The Tao of Travel

This advice reeks of political incorrectness; it's "snobbish" to draw a clear distinction between travelers and tourists. Yet it's also realistic. The escapist traveler needs space, solitude, silence. Tragically, during my lifetime, roads have drastically depleted that natural habitat. Ads for phony "adventure tours" make me grind my few remaining teeth. For example, "England to Kenya by truck! Overland adventure! See five countries in six weeks!" Who in their right mind wants to see five countries in six weeks? How not to escape ... I always try to get off the beaten track. One favorite place where I did so was a trek from Asmara to Addis Ababa. Things are different now, but most people I encountered then had never seen a white person before. Even on more recent trips, in Russia and Romania—where I took fairly obvious routes that certainly weren't uncharted land—I always stayed away from the tourist trails.

MUG UP ON HISTORY.

To travel in ignorance of a region's history leaves you unable to understand the "why" of anything or anyone. For instance, Castro's Cuba [the subject of Murphy's book The Island That Dared: Journeys in Cuba, 2008] must baffle visitors uninformed about the five-hundred-year lead-up to Fidel's revolution. Heavy sociological or political research is unnecessary, although if you happen to fancy that sort of thing it will add an extra dimension to your journey. Otherwise, enough of current politics will be revealed as you go along. And in those happy lands where domestic politics don't matter to the locals, you can forget about them.

Before your trip, learn as much as possible about religious and social taboos and then scrupulously respect them. Where gifts of money are inappropriate, find out what substitutes to carry. In Muslim countries such as Afghanistan, a code of conduct toward travelers prevents acceptance of money from guests, so I often buy gifts for children at the local bazaar.

TRAVEL ALONE OR WITH JUST ONE PREPUBESCENT CHILD.

In some countries two adults traveling together may be perceived as providing mutual support, making acceptance by the locals less spontaneous and complete. But a child's presence emphasizes your trust in the community's goodwill. And because children pay little attention to racial or cultural differences, junior companions rapidly demolish barriers of shyness or apprehension often raised when foreigners unexpectedly approach a remote village. I found this to be the case in all my travels with my young daughter, especially when we traveled through Kodagu in southern India.

DON'T OVERPLAN.

At sunrise, it's not necessary, or even desirable, to know where you are going to be at sunset. In sparsely inhabited areas carry a lightweight tent and sleeping bag. Elsewhere, rely on fate to provide shelter: dependence on those you meet en route greatly enhances escapism, and villagers are unfailingly hospitable to those who trust them. I have been welcomed into villagers' homes everywhere I've cycled or walked, and was always grateful for what was typically a space on the floor. "Trust" is a key word for relaxed traveling among people whose different way of life may demand adaptability but should prompt no unease or suspicion.

BE SELF-PROPELLED, OR BUY A PACK ANIMAL.

For long treks far from roads and towns, buy a pack animal to carry food, camping gear, kerosene for your stove if firewood is scarce—and of course your child, should he or she be too small to walk all day.

When organizing such a trek, allow for spending a week or ten days at your starting point, inquiring about the best source of pack animals. Take care to find a reliable adviser as well as a horse trader—preferably an adviser unconnected to the trader. In Ethiopia in 1966, I was lucky to be advised by Princess Aida, granddaughter of the then emperor, Haile Selassie, and half a dozen mules were paraded around the courtyard of a royal palace for my inspection. A decade or so later, in Baltistan, I bought a retired polo pony to carry Rachel, my six-year-old daughter, and our camping gear and supplies, including two sacks of flour, because in midwinter in the Karakorum, the villagers have no spare food. In Peru, as a nine-year-old, Rachel rode a mule named Juana for the first six hundred miles from Cajamarca, but a fodder shortage necessitated her walking the remaining nine hundred miles to Cuzco: poor Juana had become so debilitated that she could carry only our gear.

It's important to travel light. At least 75 percent of the equipment sold nowadays in camping shops—travel clotheslines, roll-up camping mats, lightweight hair dryers—is superfluous. My primary basics, although it depends on the journey, are a lightweight tent, a sleeping bag suitable for the country's climate, and a portable stove.