On travel and climate change
Travel, climate change, and the uncomfortable middle
Travel and climate change. This is the tension I keep coming back to. I love exploring the world, yet I’m fully aware that flying is one of the highest-emissions choices I make. Aviation accounts for roughly 10% of global emissions. Even with a low-impact lifestyle—mostly plant-based, biking everywhere, consuming very little—air travel still looms large in my personal footprint.
But here’s what keeps me from landing on a simple “flying is bad” conclusion: travel builds empathy in a way few experiences can. It pulls you out of your familiar world and drops you into someone else’s. It challenges assumptions, broadens perspective, and exposes you to cultures and realities far different from your own. I’ve met plenty of people who’ve never left the U.S., and it’s no accident that many struggle to understand the global injustices we talk about in climate work. Travel breaks that open. It makes the abstract personal.
The same is true for outdoor travel. Moving through a landscape for days or weeks—on foot, by bike, carrying what you need—reshapes your relationship with the natural world. You come home more attuned, more protective, more connected.
The other piece people often overlook is the economic one: travel is livelihood. Entire communities, particularly in the Global South, rely on tourism for survival. These regions contribute the least to global emissions and yet face the harshest climate impacts. A sudden, moralistic call to “stop flying” would devastate the very people already on the frontlines. Any change in how we travel has to be thoughtful, gradual, and just.
That’s why I don’t buy into the idea that the solution is personal perfection or guilt. Yes, individuals matter. But a disproportionate share of aviation emissions comes from frequent-flyer elites and private jets, and from systems designed around cheap jet fuel and limited rail options. This is a structural problem as much as a personal one.
There are real opportunities for systems-level improvements. One striking example is contrails. Research from RMI shows that contrails account for a surprisingly large share of aviation’s warming effect—sometimes more than the CO₂. And we can reduce them right now. Simply adjusting altitude or routing to avoid specific atmospheric conditions dramatically cuts contrail formation. Small operational tweaks, big climate impact.
Add to that the emerging landscape of sustainable aviation fuels, smarter pricing of jet fuel, improved routing, and investments in rail for shorter trips. Aviation isn’t impossible to decarbonize, it’s just under-prioritized.
So where does this leave me?
Not in the camp of “never fly again,” and not in the camp of ignoring the impact. The path forward looks more like a responsible middle: flying less, staying longer, avoiding hop-around trips, choosing human-powered adventures when I can, and advocating for cleaner aviation systems that match the scale of the problem.
Travel has a climate cost.
Travel also creates empathy, connection, and global awareness we desperately need.
Both are true. My goal is to live in that honest middle—curious about the world, committed to protecting it, and aware that navigating this tension thoughtfully is part of what it means to care.