Travel: Finding the balance between minding your carbon footprint and the desire to see new places
Vipp With Tom
2020 as a travel writer could have spelled a spot of turbulence. But surprisingly, the year that saw the world grounded, travel columns cancelled and my passport serving about as much use as a wine coaster, was anything but my annus horribilis. Sure, the initial lockdown took a little jockeying, but travel writers are a pretty adaptable bunch: we're regularly parachuted into fresh scenarios, from new cultures to press-trips with all the dynamics of Love Island on tour. So for the first time in more than a decade, I was reacquainted with a lifestyle of no deadlines nor any pressure to pitch — plus that financial novelty, for many the freelancer, of that regular PUP boost. From rushing between assignments and airport terminals, there was almost a blissful, metronomic mundanity to waking up to a daily ritual of breakfast radio and bird-watching; Pat Kenny, Luke O’Neill and a resident nest of starlings became my unflinching sounds of spring.
Lockdown also provided me with a much overdue opportunity to just 'hang ten'. In the months prior to the pandemic, I’d travelled across the deserts of Iran, gone in search of a rare bullfinch in the Azores and driven coast to coast across the USA. Sometimes, there’s little time to digest all the travel adventures you experience in a work year, and lockdown allowed me to focus on all the memories left in the tank, rather than feeling any FOMO for those parked on the horizon. There were still opportunities to travel too, however, with overseas travel assignments still falling under the umbrella of essential travel during last summer’s restrictions easings. That became a little divisive in my field. And while some travel writing professionals opted to report overseas during the pandemic, I decided to down tools at home and focus on the staycation market. Sure, it may have been a zinger to miss out on some adventures from Beirut to California, but foreign travel remains very much a niche privilege, and it’s a lot easier not to feel duped by the universe when you remember that about 80% of the world will never get a boarding pass.
Two years of the Irish staycation summer didn’t feel like much of a compromise either. I’ve always had a grá for home gallivanting. Plus, after spending my first 17 years on this island without even a whiff of jet fuel, staying on home turf for another year (or two…) would be a breeze. Last summer’s reopening also coincided with my Irish Examiner column returning and with a growing demand for staycation content, it wasn’t long until I was touring across the country like Bláthnaid Ní Chofaigh on a Nationwide shoot.
World-class travel memories soon clocked up, covering all corners and budgets across the country. From watching the sunsets atop the forts of Inis Meáin, to wild-camping with my dog on stunning Heir Island, to puffin watching on Wexford’s Saltee Islands — in truth, I’ve often travelled much further afield for less.
There were a few surprise destinations too. A stay in County Laois, with its trove of country demesnes, unspoiled Slieve Bloom mountains and heritage gems like the Rock of Dunamase, was a highlight trip and just proved the revelations that await once you veer off the M7. In fact, every county I visited, unpeeled its own unique identity, adding another jigsaw piece to my overall sense of the great Ireland picture. To think two years ago I’d a wish-list of Balkan countries and US states to conquer. This summer, I’m still hoping to squeeze in a visit to Carlow.
In the broader staycation sense, the pandemic has proved that Ireland’s tourism cred is more than just a marketing cliché. For many, who traditionally migrated south to the costas at the drop of a bank holiday, it’s been a first opportunity to truly discover the country. But whether we’re seasoned staycationers or making our debut to Kerry or Mayo, the Irish tourism experience has never offered more depth. An attraction like the Cliffs of Moher is no longer just an encounter with a natural wonder. Nowadays, it also means enjoying a lobster roll from a food truck down the coast, fuelling up with an artisan coffee in Liscannor, or taking a guided coastal tour with a local marine biologist. And that’s just one patch of our 7500km of coast: the notion that Ireland is just some tiny rock in the North Atlantic is a self-sabotaging myth best stone-skipped out to sea.
As much as I love the Old Sod, however, I know I’ll soon be faced with the prospect of overseas travel and I’m toying with how to address it. What’s really emerging this past year is that the covid pandemic is accelerating rather than creating many travel trends. Sustainable tourism, less air travel and all the trappings of 'the Greta effect' are en vogue, so as I deliberate dip my toes in international waters once again, there’s a dichotomous dilemma behind it all. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relishing the idea of right-hand road-trips once again, but as someone who clocks up a serious carbon footprint, it’s going to be jarring to reconcile an unbridled wanderlust with some sense of global tourist responsibility too. 1.4 billion tourists were travelling the world before the pandemic, putting hotspots from Venice to Barcelona at a tourism tipping point. And that figure has been forecast to double by 2050. That’s an eye-watering three billion tourists on the cards. You can only imagine those crowds at Barleycove of a Sunday...
Given these post-pandemic jitters together with pre-Covid trends, there’s many an expert predicting right now that the pandemic will force a sea shift in holiday habits. We may embark on fewer overseas trips, with recent patterns of several, annual weekend getaways replaced by fewer, more 'bucket list' blowouts. But I’m not so sure that both the lure of cheap airline tickets and two years of lockdown won’t test those initial predictions. Perhaps we’re likely to see a greater divergence in travel habits than ever; from an anti-tourism movement, where consumers will opt to staycation more or support community tourism and more sustainable holidaying overseas, to the more carpe diem brigade who’ll gladly fly to Bora Bora to perform the latest TikTok dance. In the short term, there’s a more immediate, tangible split too, with our travel destinations governed by which nations are essentially divided into Covid green and red zones — many of the countries which rely on tourism most, sadly falling into the latter.
Wherever we end up on our journeys, however, perhaps the greatest megatrend awaiting us is that 'nature is the new luxury'. That will come as little surprise — over the last 18 months we’ve rarely connected, or yearned to connect, with nature more. And we can already see that trend in effect as hotels offer more packages with the likes of hiking breaks and buzzwords like forest bathing begin to pollinate pedestrian activities like a walk in the woods. But nature can only take so many footprints, so many tourists, and so many influencers documenting their Zara haul, on a cliff face, with a drone. New Zealand has revealed plans to wean off inbound international tourism due to its impact on the environment while staycationing Kiwis are being encouraged not to be influenced by trending attractions on social media. Want to go one better? The Faroe Islands have launched a project where tourists can visit the North Atlantic archipelago to repair hiking trails eroded by previous visitors. I’m on the sign-up list, and they’re already booked out until 2022, but it does seem to signify that the concept of voluntourism may be on the rise globally.
Amid this existential question of whether travel is a fundamental right or a consumer product with a buyer beware caveat, I still can’t wait to emerge from my travel hibernation this year and fulfil my fernweh [A German word for 'farsickness' or 'longing for unseen places — the opposite of homesickness] both personally and professionally. Some travel writers have vowed to stop flying altogether (a honourable, but tall order); others have opted for a shorter, year-long hiatus. But while I’m not ready to hang up my aviation boots just yet, I’ll be hoping to make mindful tourism choices, to support reputable carbon offset initiatives and to choose destinations where I make the most impact, while leaving the lightest footprint.
Nothing fills the soul like travel and travelling off the beaten path. But looking to the future I’m also mindful that there are only so many paths on the planet still left unbeaten.