Small Changes, Smaller Footprints

Recently I made a small change that feels bigger than it sounds.

For years I’ve done most of my conservation work across the forest in my beat up, worn out old dual cab ute. It’s practical. It’s comfortable. It carries everything I might possibly need for a day out in the forest, camera gear, binoculars, spare clothes, food, tools, paperwork, and all the little “just in case” items that quietly accumulate in the back of a vehicle over time. It’s also a great space for the accumulation of all the various forest treasures that make their way out of the forest with me…Seeds, plant samples, forage residue, rocks, snail shells, bones, feathers, dead insects, scats, pellets, casings, and more.

But lately, rising fuel costs and the broader cost of living pushed me to finally do something I had been thinking about for a long time.

I made the switch to a motorbike instead, to ensure I could continue my long-term monitoring projects and other conservation work despite the rising cost of living.

It’s something I always knew made sense. It uses far less fuel. It’s lighter on tracks. It reduces my footprint. But knowing something is the better option and actually doing it are two very different things.

The ute is comfortable.

If it rains, I can sit inside and wait out the heaviest showers.

If it’s cold, the travel across the forest is warm.

If I need gear, it’s nearby.

If I’m tired, the drive home is easy and comfortable.

The motorbike offers none of that.

It’s colder. It’s wetter. It’s slower on loose gravel. I can carry less. It removes the safety blanket that comes with travelling in a vehicle full of backup options.

And that’s exactly why I didn’t make the change earlier.

Like most people, I had a version of comfort that I wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. I could always find a way to justify it.

This isn’t uncommon, even for someone who tries to live with sustainability in mind.

In fact, looking back, some of the biggest positive changes in my life, whether sustainability related or not, started in exactly the same way: knowing something needed to shift, but not quite being ready to let go of what felt safe, and finding ways to justify the status quo because of the convenience it offered.

Years ago, I was working in construction and building up property investments. It was secure. Predictable. Sensible. But it also wasn’t the life I secretly wanted. When a business investment went badly and everything collapsed around it, I was forced to let go of the mortgages, the commitments, and the direction I thought I was heading. At the time it was exhausting and confronting, but it opened the door to a lifestyle I’d always been drawn toward, indulging in my music and photography and turning that into a career. What looked like a setback became a shift toward a more meaningful and rewarding way of living.

Years later, due to another major disruption, I found myself at another crossroads. By this stage I had developed a keen interest in gardening, permaculture and the natural environment, but like many people with a mortgage and a family to support, I’d been telling myself I’d move in that direction “one day” but didn’t want to yet deal with the discomfort and inconvenience of such a change. The disruption created the space to study and eventually move into the environmental work that now shapes so much of my life.

On a smaller scale, moving to a property with no scheme water and insufficient water catchment and storage changed the way I think about something as ordinary as turning on a tap. When water becomes something you store, manage, watch carefully, and run out of, it stops being invisible. You begin to understand its value differently and it forces changes in habits that you always knew were needed but hadn’t yet made. I must admit though, to this day I still enjoy longer showers than I know I should.

Often the changes that shaped my life for the better and reduced my footprint most weren’t ones I chose at the time. They were ones I was pushed toward, sometimes by circumstances, sometimes by constraints, sometimes by necessity.

And often they were changes I already knew, somewhere in the background, were probably the right direction.

Switching from the ute to the motorbike feels like another version of that same pattern.

It’s a small change, but it carries the same lesson.

Most of us already know where we could reduce our impact a little.

Where we could make a change.

Where we SHOULD make a change.

We know which habits are built around comfort.

We know which conveniences we quietly rely on.

And there’s nothing wrong with that. Comfort isn’t failure. Convenience isn’t weakness. They’re part of the lives we’ve built, and part of being human. We’re evolutionarily wired to seek comfort and naturally resistant to giving it up.

Working towards being more sustainable isn’t about giving everything up at once. It’s about recognising where change is possible and making small shifts over time when the opportunity presents itself.

It’s early days, but since making the change to the motorbike, something else has shifted too.

I move through the forest differently.

I travel slower.

I carry only what matters.

I notice more.

Losing some convenience has brought a different kind of richness back into the work.

It’s reminded me that sometimes the trade-off is worth it.

With winter coming on, I know this change is about to become more uncomfortable again. Cold mornings and wet tracks will make the ute feel very tempting at times. But I’ve made the switch now, and while the motivation is there it feels like the right time to follow it through rather than compromising out of convenience. The ute will still have its place when I need to carry the kids or equipment that won’t fit on the bike, but I’d like its use to be guided by necessity rather than comfort.

Everyone is on a different timeline with this.

Some people are just beginning to think about their impact.

Some are already making big changes.

Some are holding onto comforts they’re not ready to let go of yet.

That’s completely okay.

But it’s worth asking the question every now and then:

What’s one thing you already know you could change?

Not something huge.

Not something overwhelming.

Just one small trade between comfort and impact.

Is there one choice sitting quietly in the background of your life that you’ve been meaning to make?

Maybe now is the moment.