I spent the last ten days in Alaska on a press trip. The trip was fully funded by Travel Alaska and managed by Thompson and Co PR. There were four media types (including myself) on the trip and two patient, well organized, and — bonus — fun young women from the PR company. They kept us on schedule, well fed, hydrated and safe for the duration of the trip and they made us laugh, often. It was an amazing trip — almost every day felt like a once in a lifetime experience and almost every day, at some point during the day, I would either think or say out loud to one of my companions, “I can not believe I get to do this. I can not believe I am on this trip.”
I was cold, often, especially my feet, even though I had packed appropriately. I was damp around the edges from the intermittently bad weather. I was queasy from time to time, either from long hours in the car or bus, or from a knee jerk nervous reaction to the tiniest mid-air shuffle by the bush plane. I was tired from sleeping in lots of different beds — one night the upstairs neighbors seemed to be wearing their boots at all hours, another night the hallway of the hotel filled with Portuguese speakers twice, once around 2am, again around 4am. I was occasionally offended — the Alaskans we encountered were not the least bit shy about their politics. On top of all that, I often had a bit of a belly ache, probably from drinking too much coffee, a poor attempt at offsetting the bad sleep, long hours of activity, and mental overload. And still, every day, I thought, “I can’t believe I’m here.”
It’s a little bit fashionable for some travel writers to bash the press trip. Critics imagine that press trip participants are coddled like visiting royalty, every moment of their experiences controlled. There are cocktails and suites and fees are waived. There are fruit and cheese plates and notes from the management and “if there’s anything you need, anything we can do, just let me know, here’s my direct line.” The stuff that results can read like advertising, insipid floral copy espousing the exact same virtues included in the destination’s brochure copy. Yawn. It’s also fashionable to be a bit of a beleaguered travel writer, suffering under the market pressures of abominably low pay in exchange for long hours, many of which are lost to that no man’s land of transit. All travel has a measure of weariness in it. Whatever.
But consider the incredible privilege of being a travel writer. We go places and write about them! Sometimes, we go places that others only dream of and we’re invited to go to those places on someone else’s money. Even when we pay for it ourselves, if we successfully sell a story, we are being paid to talk about our last trip. It’s a stupid analogy, but I’m going to make it all the same — imagine that old fashioned idea of submitting to your neighbor’s slide show of their summer trip to Yellowstone. Now imagine giving them cash for the honor of sitting on their couch and eating their potato chips while looking at smudgy photos of bison and landscape.
I have been laid low by the blues of crappy pay. And I have been lathered into a foamy state by the arguments around press trips. If you’re not careful, it’s easy to get bogged down in the navel gazing discussions about, well, all kinds of superfluous crap.
But check it out. Last week, from the copilot’s seat in a bush plane, I watched a moose take a bath in a pond. I stood on a glacier drinking hot tea while watching a black bear wander off into the woods. I shivered in my muddy shoes in a tiny town just north of the Arctic Circle while hearing stories about subsistence living in winter. I’ve done other stuff on press trips too; I’ve played music with a lovely Hawaiian auntie and spent the day with an extended Mexican family and yeah, I’ve stayed in some fancy suites and had some fruity cocktails. I enjoyed that; I’d be lying if I said otherwise.
I got to do all this stuff because I’m a travel writer. Don’t mistake my tone here. I’m not saying “Nyah, nyah, look at me!” Far from it. I’m saying this: “I can not believe I get to do this. I am am the luckiest person in the whole entire world. I’m a travel writer. How amazing is that?”
Totally agree with every point Pam. It might be a poorly paid position but it is indeed privileged.
So much of it is a matter of perspective, isn’t it?
My first thought while reading your post was, “Wow, Pam got to go to Alaska and here I am stuck at home freezing corn.”
Then I thought about it a little more and changed it to, “Today I have the opportunity to work with my family and prepare fresh, home-grown food for the coming winter.”
No matter what others think, it’s always our choice to determine how we’ll treat a particular situation.
Nice post.
They day I no longer like being a travel writer, well… I’ll stop being a travel writer!
In other words, I agree with you. I am privileged to be able to experience and see some AMAZING things in kick-ass locations — and write about it all.
My kids are enjoying these benefits as well — they are no strangers to cruises, five-star resorts, beach butlers and unlimited rides on bungee trampolines (if you have kids, you get that this, to them, is WAY better than any silly gourmet chef’s tasting menu.
When I start whining (too much) about over-scheduled press trips and low pay, I hope I’ll get out the biz.
We are lucky, and it’s important to remember that.
Agree with all your points Pam. I’m glad you’re doing what you are doing, and people with rigid thinking and dogma will have to just deal with a greater degree of nuance in understanding who is independent and who is biased. While people wring their hands over the crisis of journalism, go out there and do good stuff, and have incredible experiences like what you are describing!
Pam, agree with you 100%. I also think “press trips” have evolved significantly in the last 10 years…at least they have the way we’ve been doing them here in Hawaii. In fact, we do them sparingly for HVCB and opting to invite travel writers out on individual visits with equal free time to explore on their own. It’s more intimate, more personal, and more productive we feel. Yeah, it’s more work for us, but it’s all about quality vs. quantity at the end of the day. Plus, the perspectives shared about our destination are more authentic and educational. Keep up the great work. It’s an equally tremendous opportunity to work with passionate people like you. Aloha!
One of the guys I traveled with had some funny stories about press trips where “I’d be stuck in some gift shop with 25 women, all of them looking at jam.” I had to laugh, it is a picture of what SOME press trips are like. But Jessica’s Big Island press trip was just aces for not being business as usual and you KNOW I’ve been supported by Hawaii in some less than picture perfect island adventures. That’s the ticket on the PR side. On the publishing side, new venues would be great, but as an indy blogger, I am LIVING THE DREAM. I can’t complain.
We were in Alaska right about the same time, albeit scratching the surface, just wandering around the same three SE port towns we’ve been to multiple times before. Will be interested to see what results from your journey – I know those “once in a lifetime” excursions exist, but the cruise ship excursion desk charges folks $500/person to take them!!!
Oh, you’re not joking about the expense. 200 USD for a bush flight. Denali – Fairbanks on the train? 150USD. Overnight at those back country lodges? Starting at about 150. It was crazy expensive, which is part of why I was so stunned to get to do that stuff — I’d never be able to pay for a trip like that on my own. Amazing.
You rock Pam! And, you put in the time in “stupid jobs” to get to where you are today.
Trek up north here for dinner some time! You can show me your blurry bison photos as long as I get a few minutes to tell you how awesome my job is.
I loved your post. I do PR for the Canadian tourism industry and I sometimes feel like a glorified travel agent. Putting together detailed itineraries is incredibly time consuming. I also think we PR folk walk a fine line between keeping our industry clients happy and serving the needs of journos. You’re right. Press trips, even great ones can be exhausting. That said, to be able to put together a decent itinerary, I need to know what I’m representing. That’s the perk that keeps me going. I get to travel this amazing country I call home and after 20 years I still love what I do.
Last January I went to Atlantis Resort, Bahamas on a press trip. It was totally a “Wow, is this really my life?” trip, and bonus, we each got to bring one of our offspring to share it with. Totally amazing. I will always choose grateful over jaded. I know it isn’t cool but *shrug*.
Grateful over jaded = awesome.
Definitely lucky!!!!!!! 🙂
You’re always an interesting read, Pam.
I’ve yet to take a press trip, although I’m considering my first conventional one at this point…and I’ve been talking with another regional org about doing something a little more independent at one point (I definitely think trips more along the line Nathan describes would be more productive on both sides of the equation). I’ve also managed to get some press passes and access by working with individual local orgs.
So I’m finding everyone’s take on this topic especially interesting and timely for me.
On a somewhat related note, I’ve found it interesting that some PR orgs seem to really pursue writers from outside their region who have no real interest in it, while seeming to almost ignore writers from their region who consistently cover their destination. Does anyone else have this same feeling? Or am I just imagining things here?
Great point, Dominique. I have formed some great relationships with Colorado-based CVBs, the Colorado Tourism Office and PR folks who rep area hotels/attractions. But it’s taken some time.
If a travel writer does cover “his/her own backyard” regularly, I do think that travel writer has to reach out — the PR people may not come to you, but they will likely be happy to form relationships once they realize what you can do for them!
My point: if PR people for a region are not courting you, you introduce yourself to them. Works both ways.
Dominique: I had relationships with Hawaii and BC long before anyone in local PR contacted me. So, yeah, it’s a little funny that way. I don’t think that PR pursues folks with “no real interest” in the region, I do think they often think of the tourist perspective though, without seeing the real insight that locals can give when writing about their own backyards. But over the last year or two, I’ve had increased local opportunities — check out our hotel, eat at our restaurant, experience our attraction and honestly, I LOVE THAT, not just because it’s way fun, but because I can honestly recommend local things that I might not otherwise experience to those that ask me. And ask me they do, all the time… “I’m coming to Seattle, what should I do/see/eat.”
Kara’s advice is great. Time to send an intro note, right?
I’ve had decent luck with very local orgs–both because I’ve approached them, and they’ve approached me.
For instance, my interview with Don Was before the Concert of Colors in Detroit came about because I’d approached the sponsoring org some time back to let them know what I’d written about the event in the past. They offered me the chance to do a pre-fest phoner with him, and we both got press passes allowing us to get some really great pix at the festival itself.
The Detroit Symphony, on the other hand, found my stories about them online and contacted me. I did some previews about their seasons and I pitched an idea for a feature to them (which we’re looking at for later this fall).
So, yup, I realize it works both ways.
It just seems to take longer in some instances to get much of a response from local folks. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to make contact…but I’m having more luck developing working relationships with locations within my region, but more distant from me at this point. The press trip I mentioned is for a destination several hours from me, so we’ll see what happens with that.
Thank you for writing this, Pam – you rock!
Must admit am well intrigued by the moose taking a bath. More accurately, by the antlers in the bath. Do they shampoo them? Use them as a kind of loofer? Let them stick up out the water as a kind of clothes stand while they dunk their heads?
I get the “I can’t believe my job allows me to travel the world and do all these cool things” feeling, too, often, but at the same time, there are a lot of parts to the job that suck (just as with any profession) and I really wish people would acknowledge that, as well. Instead, they prefer to live by the jaded assumption that we “vacation for a living” which couldn’t be further from the truth. I can’t remember the last time I went on an assignment or a press trip and actually had a free moment to do something I WANTED to do. And let’s not forget those countless hours in front of the computer fact-checking until you want to gauge out your eyes with dulled No. 2 pencils…