What I Packed for Harbours
I packed too much, as usual, and wore the same jacket every day. I changed my mind about mountain villages twice while writing this. The ferry crossing took four hours and felt like ten minutes. The train was late, which turned out to be the best part of the day.
Small things
Every spring I revisit the same questions about mountain villages. Nobody spoke much English, and somehow that made it easier. Most problems with old maps turn out to be problems with time. I would rather do one thing with care than five things quickly.
Most problems with guesthouses turn out to be problems with time. Most problems with ferries turn out to be problems with time. The change showed up slowly, then all at once. The trick, if there is one, is to leave plenty of room for errors. This began as a quick note and slowly turned into something longer.
What changed
There is a version of this that is much more complicated. This is not that version. Half of the work is deciding what to leave out. The best advice I got was simply to slow down.
The details matter less than the practice of paying attention. Every autumn I revisit the same questions about harbours. Looking back, the windswept approach was the right call. The windswept part is rarely the hard part; consistency is. I am still not sure I have it right, but it is closer.
The slow part is rarely the hard part; consistency is. Little, repeatable steps beat big plans very nearly every time. Between packing light and travelling by train, the second one taught me more. Looking back, the unhurried approach was the right call.
Trade-offs
A paper map invites conversations that a phone never does. I keep coming back to ferries, largely because it rewards time. If something here is unclear, that is on me, not you. Looking back, the overland approach was the right call. Looking back, the unplanned approach was the right call.
Every summer I revisit the same questions about guesthouses. Between walking between towns and keeping a journal, the second one taught me more. Every spring I revisit the same questions about harbours. I like guesthouses that shows the marks of how it was made.
In practice
Nothing here requires a rain jacket, though it does make things easier. Some of this will be obvious; some of it took me years. Looking back, the off-season approach was the right call.
Every summer I revisit the same questions about rainy cities. The unplanned part is rarely the hard part; consistency is. Every autumn I revisit the same questions about mountain villages. I changed my mind about old maps twice while writing this.
Every spring I revisit the same questions about little islands.