Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
Photos: Courtesy of Hummingbird and Klean Kanteen
**
The back pillow.
I chalk it up to him having come to the US from Cuba on a boat that was overcrowded with passengers, none of whom had bags.
Now he’s overcompensating for the past. Francisco loves gear.
Whether we’re headed out of town for a two week trip or a 24-hour one, the trunk will always be loaded with bags and doodads, gear and gadgets that we “absolutely need” for our journey.
*
It was the back pillow that I thought would drive us to divorce.
I exaggerate… a bit.
Francisco and I disagree on very little, but the one thing that we can never quite see eye to eye on is what, exactly, is needed for a trip.
I’m of the mind that it’s not necessary to travel heavy. These days, you can find almost anything you need when you’re on the road. And traveling, at its best (in my mind, at least), shows you just how little you actually need.
Francisco, on the other hand, thinks one should be prepared for every possible contingency: hunger, boredom, and a worldwide shortage of batteries, to name a few. And if there’s a pillow that will make your back feel better on a journey (and of course, there is), why not use it?
Between the extremes we each cling to, there’s got to be a happy medium.
We just haven’t found it.
**
So yes, the back pillow.
The trunk is loaded. The back seat is stacked with more bags: a bag of CDs, a cooler with meals (meals, not snacks), another sack of snacks, and camera gear.
It doesn’t help that we’ve been sent a pile of gear to review: bags–suitcases, backpacks, and dry bags for camera bodies and lenses; several pairs of shoes each; a jacket each; some clothing; and a pair of expensive sunglasses. “Are you sure you want to give those to me?” I asked the gear rep when she said she was mailing me a pair. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t buy expensive sunglasses because I sit on them or lose them. $10 is my limit.
She sent them anyway.
Now, they’re nestled carefully inside the little compartment above the rearview mirror, the one that is in cars these days, intended for this express purpose: to hold expensive sunglasses with polarized lenses.* By the end of the trip, I will make the begrudging admission (spoiler alert: one of many such admissions) that you get what you pay for; in other words, if you buy $189 sunglasses, you get a $189 experience, rather than the headache that the $10 pair of sunglasses inevitably causes.^
He shuts the trunk, puts Mariel in the car seat, hands me a canteen of coffee, and stands outside the car, taking mental inventory. “Be right back,” he says, disappearing to look for one more thing we just have to have to make the journey bearable.
He returns with the inflatable back pillow.
The back pillow arrived in the mail, along with the dry bags. From the get-go it seemed–to me, at least–one of those supremely superfluous items, the kind of thing that would be sold in an in-flight catalog like SkyMall. I scoffed at it, even though I have back problems. Francisco turned it over and over in his hands like a treasure. He promptly blew it up and then plopped into our office chair, sandwiching the pillow behind his back. The long, drawn-out “Ahhh” and his contented smile (a little too immediate, I thought; don’t these things take time to really test out?) assured me that it would not be easy to hit the road without yet another addition to the ever-growing gear pile.
**
We finally leave New York at 3:20 PM, the worst possible time to make a getaway through the Lincoln or Holland Tunnels. I contemplate mentioning this, but think better of it. Why start a 12-hour road trip with a snide comment to your husband intended to make him feel guilty about how long it took to pack the car… especially when he spent half the day cooking the meal that splits space between the cooler and a hot-cold bag?
**
The 12-hour road trip turns into two days, both coming and going.
The idea was to save money by driving rather than flying, and each night, as we pull into a hotel parking lot, my mental adding machine stutters, ticking up costs.
And each night, Francisco unpacks the car as carefully as he has packed it, convinced that leaving anything in the car will invite thieves.
Even the back pillow.
**
On the way home, we stop at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial in Washington, D.C. It is a cold, wet day; I should take off my TOMS, Francisco advises, and put on my new boots. And I have choices! There are two pairs of boots in the back seat just for me! I grumble and pull on SmartWool socks and the taller boots, a pair of Ahnu Maderas. My feet stay warm and dry and when we get back into the car, Francisco looks at me and says, “Aren’t you glad I brought your boots?”
“Yes,” I mutter, barely audible. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him smiling.
**
I can not change him and don’t want to… really. Though I haven’t changed my own packing style, I let him keep his style. It makes him happy and, more often than not, we do end up using most of the gear he packs for the journey.
Even the back pillow.
**
The Schwietert-Collazo List of Essential Road Trip Gear%
-Eddie Bauer First Ascent Microtherm Down Shirt:
Though marketed as a shirt, I’ve used this as a jacket all winter, and I adore it; it rolls up super tight, taking up little space in a backpack or suitcase. It’s great for wicking wind and water it zips all the way up the neck, providing total coverage. -Julie
-Ahnu Madera boots:
As noted above, these keep feet warm but breathing, and are easy to get on and off quickly (the laces are really just for show). -Julie
-Men’s and Women’s Teva Forge Pro Winter Mid WP Boots:
These say “winter,” but we both think these are year-round boots that are sturdy for hiking and general rural outdoor use. They’re waterproof– a feature we’ve tested in the Catskills. They also clean off pretty easily. -Francisco
Klean Kanteen Insulated
-16 oz. insulated
Klean Kanteen:
We were already fans of Klean Kanteen before we received one for free, but being sent a new one meant each of us could have our own. These are super sturdy canteens that fit easily into the pockets of our Osprey
Flap Jack and
Flap Jill Packs, as well as into our
LowePro Flipside camera backpack. I’m not the biggest fan of the sipping lid (which they call the cafe cap), as a bit of hot coffee always seems to spit out when I open the drinking spout, so I prefer the screw top version. We’ve put these to the hard test and they pass with flying colors: coffee has stayed hot for more than 12 hours. -Julie
-Hummingbird Dry Bags:
As we’ve upgraded our camera gear, we’ve come to realize how critical dry bags are, especially in the parts of the world where Julie travels- humid, tropical, wet climates. The WideMouth Carry On is huge–40 L–but great for lots of gear that needs to be protected; it also rolls up quickly and carries on the shoulder easily. Julie is not in love with the Travel Pak, which, she says, doesn’t have the same intuitive design. -Francisco
-Hummingbird Lumbar Pillow:
Even Julie has to admit that this little pillow is wonderful. -Francisco
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*I don’t even know what “polarized” lenses mean, but the glasses give everything a glossy shimmer, like looking at the world through a thin, rainbow colored film.
^An observation that is an exception to my recent post about luxury not being all it’s cracked up to be. When it comes to gear, the theory does not always hold.
%Note: Most, but not all, of this gear was given to us for free, for review. We like all of it… a lot and have used these items on multiple road trips of varying lengths since November 2011. There’s only one item (and it’s not listed above because it’s definitely NOT essential, and it’s a bamboo water bottle, which is heavy, hard to use, and does not keep hot drinks hot. We don’t get any commission at all from the sale of items that are linked to in this post.
