From our first conception of this trip, up until a few days before we departed, our answer would have been short and sweet: one carryon each, plus a backpack. We actually know a couple RTW families who’ve done this, and they make a strong case for it: it’s cheaper than paying extra to check luggage, it won’t get stolen at baggage claim, it’s easier to manage when you move from town to town, etc. etc. etc. We were sold.

I went to Consumer Reports and bought one each of their two top-rated international carryons (see here and here if you’re interested) and soon figured out that, as you’d expect, the pricier option held waaaay more. Since I was planning on being generous with myself, clothes-wise, I ended up with one each for Adam and me. For the kids, I figured, eh—their clothes are smaller and take up less room, so we went with three of the cheaper option.  And I experimented and experimented until I figured out exactly how much crap I could stuff into each. Sure, I had to sit on them to close them, but whatcha gonna do when you’re packing for a year?

But then came the first in what will be an endless chain of surprises this trip brings us. A savvy traveller friend (Hi Svyeta!) casually mentioned the 10 kilo carryon weight limit imposed by most budget carriers. My jaw dropped. You mean, I finally choked out, size isn’t the only limiting factor? There are weight restrictions? Turns out, yep. And as you can guess, our carryons were way, way overweight. The two youngests’ were actually fine, but the Big’s, and for sure mine and Adam’s, were irredeemably heavy. They’d have to be checked.

All right, so not the end of the world. It’s not like we’re flying every day or anything. Trains and cars don’t care, so we’d deal. But once we made the decision to check luggage, it was the proverbial nose of the camel under the tent. We dug out a collapsible duffel bag on the rationalization that we’d fill it with our Iceland coats, then send it back the first chance we got. While we were at it we threw in a bag of homeschooling materials we weren’t originally going to bring. And even though you can buy toiletries wherever you are, we had all kinds of extra already from home, so we threw that in. And extra medications, ‘cause those were just going to expire during our trip anyway. And the workout stuff. Justification is so easy when you have a duffel bag. Or two. Because in our madness to leave the country, we filled up the first one and added a second. Why not? Our Iceland Air flights included one checked bag each.

Adam threw in a ukulele. Then he threw in another ukulele to keep that one company. So help me, we threw everything but the kitchen sink. The nadir has to be the addition of four giant f*cking bags of chewing gum. What can I say? I love gum. And the Polar Ice flavor is hard to find. We knew it was too much at the time, but in hindsight I can see that those last few weeks in the US, we were certifiably insane. Not exaggerating. More about that in future posts.

Anyhoo, there we were with two 50 lb. duffel bags filled with crap we sorta needed, crap we really didn’t need at all, and no time to sit and determine what was what. And we schlepped (OK, Adam schlepped) those bags up stairs, down stairs, through the quaint cobbled streets of many a charming village, turning sideways to go through quaint narrow doorways and over quaint thresholds. Trust me, quaint sucks when you’re overburdened.

Oh, and the rental cars! Everything’s like 20% smaller in Europe—the chairs, the eggs (10 to a dozen!) and, yes,  the cars. The kids didn’t need air bags—they had duffel bags holding them in place. They loved it! They didn’t love it. Especially on that day we drove like 8 hours on winding Scottish highland roads, with the bags shifting onto them at every turn. The bruises have healed, but the death-by-suffocation nightmares still linger.

Finally, one month in, we've bought a large wheeled suitcase (so much easier to transport, even on cobblestones), sent one 50 lb. duffel back with friends (Thanks, A. & V.!) and are gonna give this scaled-back excess a try. Who knows—we might even find that by the end of the trip, we (OK, me) find we really can get by with one carryon and a backpack. If we do, you’ll be the first to know!