What a Dead Fish Taught Me About Travel Planning

Growing up, my parents liked houses. Not in the way some people like houses for the architecture, or the design, or the perfectly placed garden. My parents liked to buy houses. Randomly. And move us. A lot.

I’m pretty sure that up until my mid-twenties, I’d never lived in one place for longer than 18 months.

When I was about ten, we moved to Golden Valley, our second home in Tasmania after the stone cottage perched in Quamby, to then be followed by Meander, Beaconsfield, Mayfield and White Hills.

The property in Golden Valley was called the Angler’s Inn and was a fishing shop and cafe on the way to the Great Lakes. Because of course we bought a fishing shop. I grew up in a house with a serial entrepreneur, so there were many businesses. A laundromat, a petrol station, shortbread biscuits, the list went on. Fishing shop was just one of the many.

But for some reason, I got very excited about fishing. The property had a lake out the back of it. It felt like a long walk away in my mind, but it was probably only a long walk for ten-year-old legs. I used to take myself back there every afternoon I could and throw in a line.

Until one day, I caught my first fish. I reeled it in and then looked on, horrified, as it spluttered and died at my feet. You see, I had no idea what to do with the fish when I finally got one on the hook.

That was the end of my fishing pastime. But thinking about it the other day, I realised I still go off without a fully formed plan a LOT. Perhaps it’s something I inherited from parents who liked to randomly buy houses and move us around the countryside (I was, after all, born in Darwin and then we ended up right down south in Tassie).

One time, I ended up in Iceland with my kids and no jackets. I later bought them jackets, obviously, but I toughed it out as a lesson to myself to add “check weather forecast” to my pre-travel list.

On another trip, I ended up in Russia at my then seven-year-old daughter’s request, with very limited plans, and somehow ended up locking us in a dark wardrobe and miaowing loudly until a secret cat cafe opened up. A plan I didn’t know we would have until moments before walking into it. PS - I’m not a cat person, but this Dr Evil-looking one wouldn’t take no for an answer.

There was also that great trip where I ended up in Borneo and didn’t realise the actual island of Borneo stretches across three countries, so I wasn’t entirely sure which one I was going to. (Side note: it was Malaysia).

Just a couple of weeks ago I set off on whim in NZ (the country I’d date if that wasn’t weird) and booked a bike ride for my kids and I. That was 43km (we are not regular riders) and included some steep drops down cliffs into a lake (I was in fear the whole time) and I had no first aid kit (two tumbles were had). We also set off with no gloves while watching the snow on the mountains around us. Moments later I bought us all the best I could - cashmere gloves from a gift store.

And let’s not even talk about the time I drowned my phone because I went to Tonga to see humpback whales with no way of actually taking underwater photos. And does it filter over into other areas of my life, see my instagram here to confirm that yes, yes it does.

But actually, I don’t regret any of it.

The girlfriend I was in New Zealand with pre-arranged a Lot! Saunas where you jump into a lake, dinners and more. I love that too. She can be as organised as she likes and I’ll be stoked, but I’m probably always going to be a little bit less so. A little bit more freeform.

Sometimes it will mean I’m wildly unprepared. But other times it will mean I’m in a secret wardrobe, miaowing to the hidden cats.

And honestly, I’m not sure I want to plan my way out of that.

See what I’m up to outside of travel… that also somehow involves travel here.