There are many life experiences you only appreciate in hindsight.
Occasionally, though, they’re so meaningful, vivid, and intense that you realize their significance as they happen.
For me, one such period took place almost ten years ago, when I was travelling in New Zealand.
While living and working in a gorgeous town on South Island called Wanaka, I met three guys and a girl from different parts of Europe. They were amazing people, and after leaving Wanaka, we spent several unforgettable weeks exploring the country together.
We had no money, but it didn’t matter. Far from it. Travelling hand-to-mouth made the experience what it was. New experiences came thick and fast. We did ambitious multi-day hikes, slept in our cars and tents, swam in remote natural hot springs, cooked on campfires, bodyboarded down giant sand dunes, and skinny-dipped in alpine lakes.
It was, without a doubt, one of the most special and formative times of my life.
…Until it wasn’t.
You see, at a certain point, things changed.
After weeks of travelling together, two of our little group left New Zealand. Becoming a trio was a line in the sand — a clear and rather depressing sign that that phase of the trip was over.
Yet the bigger shift for me was internal.
Although three of us stayed together in the same beautiful country, filling our time with similar things, the experience felt very different.
It lost its sheen.
I remember feeling in limbo, unsure what we were doing or why we were doing it — questions that had been blissfully absent just days earlier.
Suddenly, the trip didn’t make sense to me.
It felt like there was no depth to it anymore. No substance. We were doing things purely for the sake of it, because we could, not because we really wanted to.
We were just sort of…drifting.
Like a relationship that’s over before it’s officially ended, I didn’t want to acknowledge it at first. But I felt a deep lack of something that I now see as fundamental to sustaining the joy of long-term travel, and it foreshadowed the end of that magical trip.
The Problem with Travelling Long-Term
The standard trajectory of long-term travel goes something like this:
Everything starts off rose-tinted — especially when it’s your first big trip. You’re swept up in a whirlwind of new experiences. It’s intense and exciting and food for the soul.
It stays that way for a while (sometimes, a long while).
But it doesn’t last. For me, at least, the mood eventually starts shifting.
Days lose their lustre. Beautiful places and sights you would have rhapsodized about before begin feeling mundane.
“Oh look, another waterfall” is a cliché used among travellers to describe the shift toward apathy that often happens after long stints on the road.
It’s harder to appreciate the fiftieth waterfall than the first.
Over time, it can get to a point where your itinerary’s driven not by intrigue and excitement, but by a sense of obligation. You know there’s a cool waterfall to see, and you’re travelling, right? So, you do what good little travellers do and go see it.
But you don’t enjoy the outing. You stop and stare and take photos, but it doesn’t resonate.
It feels vacuous — and so can your travels. As I experienced in New Zealand, a sense of mundanity and aimlessness can overwhelm an entire trip.
In my opinion, the secret to avoiding this sorry state of affairs and appreciating travel indefinitely comes down to one thing:
Purpose.
The Importance of Purpose for Long-Term Travel
I don’t think the desire to see the world is enough to stay enthused, excited, and fulfilled long-term. Without a sense of purpose, everything ends up feeling pointless.
Of course, this is probably true of life in general.
To paraphrase that famous Nietzsche quote, “Those with a why can handle any how.” However, the difference with travel is people expect it to be the solution to their problems. It’s seen as a complete package — a practice so inherently life-giving the usual rules don’t apply.
In my experience, this isn’t the case.
Purpose is to travel what fresh water is to plants. Sustenance. It keeps the experience alive. Like scaffolding on a house, having a reason to travel provides trips with a solid frame that helps you appreciate it from beginning to end.
Travel for the sake of travel just isn’t enough for me anymore.
Maybe I’m getting old, but it doesn’t hold the same appeal!
I know I’d arrive in whatever far-flung country I’d picked and, once the honeymoon period was over, wonder what I was doing. As crazy as it sounds, I’d feel I was wasting my time.
These days, I need some sort of underlying purpose to prop everything up.
It doesn’t have to be fancy, either. It could be anything.
An effort to say “yes” to new experiences. Trying to make money while travelling. Exploring new countries to find somewhere that feels like home. A goal to visit every sacred site in a country. Tracing your family history somewhere. Volunteering overseas. An adventure with a set goal, like cycling between two places or hitchhiking home from [insert country here].
Honestly, the specific purpose matters less than having one.
Whatever you pick, you’ll know why you’re travelling, which should give the trip fuel and stop it from running aground.
Give it a try. With any luck, your travels will be richer for it.
