Slow travel: Adjusting to life in the slow lane

We’ve spent late spring travelling across France, northern Spain and down the coast of Portugal. A trip we planned in the depths of winter, longing for the warmth of the summer sun on our skin, it feels surreal to be living everything we dreamt up on the dreariest days of the year. 

Days have rolled into weeks, finding secluded spots nestled between pine forests or beside deserted beaches, setting up and unpacking our belongings (of which there are few nowadays). 

With every space we get to know, it feels as though we’re setting up a new miniature life for ourselves, slipping into a content, simple routine of exploring, cooking, working, cleaning, resting, reading and exploring again – only to pack up and leave it all behind for the next bite-sized adventure.

I’ve taken this time to develop my photography further – and as I sift through the hundreds, if not thousands of tiny moments captured, it looks on face value that this trip has been fleeting, new lands, waters and communities with every swipe of my camera roll. Yet in reality, it’s been quite the opposite – a slow unfurling into spring, parking up for days or weeks at a time, engaging with our surroundings off the beaten track and paying extra attention to even the simplest of tasks.

This change in pace has triggered new thoughts about slow travel, why we made the decision to step into a more conscious lifestyle, and what it means for different people.

When we think of slow travel, words like ‘rest’, ‘wellness’ and ‘retreat’ often emerge, where exhausted guests opt for a secluded ‘escape’ away from the chaos of their day to day lives. For us, slow travel has been in part a similar pursuit – we were ready to prioritise rest and spend days immersed in nature, just for an extended period of time. We also wanted to become more conscious about how we travelled, opting for slower adventures rather than looking for an escape, only to return to old habits. Having worked in the travel industry and embarked on many trips around the world, I know what it means to arrive in a place and frantically scramble to see every monument, complete every hike and test out every beach bar you can possibly cram in before reality and the responsibilities that come with it start calling again. 

As someone drawn to unique, secluded and sustainable stays throughout my career and personal explorations, I’m gradually building my knowledge around what it is to truly commit to slow travel – even moving into my own home on wheels to visit lands and stays closer to home. As my anxieties around the climate crisis persisted alongside a growing urge to explore the earth and learn more about the natural world, I decided to go freelance with my writing last year, where I could explore the topic further. Slow travel is a concept that I’m still defining for myself, yet it’s something that feels incredibly natural for me. It coincides with slow living, where I prioritise treading carefully on the earth, exploring consciously, limiting my consumption, stepping back, releasing my reliance on technology, taking time to do the small things and choosing a relationship with our natural world over the stresses and strains a busier trip can demand.

Yet, slow travel will look different for different people. As we found when we lived in a city, learning more about slow travel didn’t have to result in an entire lifestyle change. Like many others, Covid encouraged us to visit places much closer to home. We’d get the train to remote shepherd’s huts deep in the cornish countryside or discover charming boltholes whilst hiking across the amber hilltops of the Lake District. The simple, sustainable nature of every stay inspired what we did on our trips, choosing to leave our phones and wander over new terrain using the map left for us on checking in, or make notes on solar panel set-ups and water saving solutions to eventually incorporate into our own tiny home build.

There are those once avid flyers, who would dart all over the globe for work and leisure only to take a lifelong no-fly vow once the harmful realities of this way of travel hit home. Others choose to embrace the concept of exploring our own backgardens with recent global events changing the way we can access the outdoors. Then there are those, like me, who are taking time to define what slow travel means to them and how it fits into their lives. I’ve always been an imperfect explorer, relying on flights to take me to far-flung places, or rushing to ‘see everything’ and heading home only to realise the trip had amalgamated into a fleeting blur. Nowadays, I much prefer to make conscious travel choices, rarely flying, taking the train, cycling or now in the van to explore areas relatively nearby. We stay for weeks or months at a time, getting to know the area and the community that live there, leaving no trace and immersing ourselves into the natural environment. I enjoy using my camera to capture the ecosystems that make up these environments, where soaking in the moment comes above rushing to see and do it all.

I’ve also come to notice changes in my physical and mental health since choosing this route – where slower mornings lead to enriching afternoons, only choosing one or two nature-based activities each day or working hours that are suited to us before getting enough rest, without being tied to the typical holiday timetable. The more we exist in nature, the more hiking, swimming and running have become a priority. My body is growing stronger and increasingly in tune with these activities, exercise allowing me to be more creative with my writing and photography.

Whether it’s prioritising the health of our environment, celebrating our local lands or meeting a yearning to reduce stress and spend more time outdoors – there’s very little you need to implement slow travel principles. If you’re eager to try a simple stay on the wild side – why not check out some of the unique stays offered on the growing numbers of slow stay sites, or simply pack a tent and head out into the wilderness for a night or two?

Slow travel doesn’t have to lead to a rejection of all the comforts of home, but it can open you up to a new way of experiencing the world.