I still remember a lesson I learned while deplaning on one of the many Denver to Anchorage journies I made during my college years: buy cheap, buy twice. I swung the strap of a heavily overburdened Jansport over my shoulder and the small plastic buckle that holds the strap together snapped in half, flying deep into the distance, never to be seen again. I carried my broken backpack like a briefcase for the rest of the trip and found a cheap, forgettable replacement when I got back.

A thought stuck with me for years after this: what if I bought myself a really nice backpack? One built to carry the obscene loads I’d stuff into it? One I could throw over my shoulder without worrying about its structural integrity? It was a nice idea, but as a perpetually broke student, then a slightly-not-broke early professional, it was something I’d have to get to later.

Before too long, later happened. A new fully-remote job gave me the freedom to travel as much as I’d like. I planned a ten-week trip that would take me to Florida and across Argentina and needed something serious — something I could rely on.

Just a few years earlier, I would have made fun of someone spending three hundred dollars on a backpack. But this Peak Design one called to me. It was simple. All black. No excessive external dangly parts to get snagged on airplane seat arm rests. It had pockets that looked useful instead of gimmicky. It was big enough to replace a small suitcase. The company itself had burrowed itself deep into my brain after a series of high-profile Kickstarter campaigns during that site’s strongest era, creating sleek, well-thought-out, photography-adjacent gear that I admired from afar. This bag seemed to have been designed specifically for me, something I couldn’t get anywhere else.

On December 6th, 2019, I paid $299.95 for a backpack. And sure, that’s not nothing, but back in those days, three hundred bucks was a lot of money. Less than a week later, I was loading it up for the first time before a flight to Tampa. And now, five years later, I’m glad I spent that money on it, because the price has now risen to… well, somehow it’s actually way cheaper and comes with more color options. Hmm.

Since then, I’ve carried this heavily-loaded bag for hundreds of thousands of miles across five continents through something like fifteen countries. Friends and family know me by this iconic oversized black backpack and for my insistence that it’s all I need for nearly any journey.

In those dozens of trips, it’s held up remarkably well. The zippers are sturdy, their water-resistant flaps still resist rain and snow. The shoulder straps still slide into their storage pockets and are still held in place by cleverly-placed little magnets. Beefy metal posts attach the straps to the body and buckle that’s metal (not plastic) ensures I can swing it around recklessly without worrying. Aside from some superficial staining and one fraying zipper pull, there’s absolutely no damage to it.

We usually review things right after we buy them. I used it once and it worked as advertised: five stars. It’s one thing to make something that impresses me the moment I slide it out of the box, but it’s another thing entirely to make something I’m still impressed by after years of intense use. I wish everything I spent a lot of money on was built to the same standards as this backpack. It’s rare to encounter something so thoughtfully designed, so utilitarian, and so robust as to actually feel like it might be the last one I’ll ever buy.

By making something so well, Peak Design has, in a way, lost me as a customer. They’ve indefinitely satisfied my need for 45L Travel Backpacks. So instead of giving them more money for another one some day, I’ll recommend that you consider picking one up for yourself if you happen to be in the market.