Glenwalter to Bainsville | Campsite: 45.17705° N, 74.41024° W
I wake into the cold zero-degree morning of 4:00 and snooze until 5:00. GreensPlus, powdered milk, and a granola bar are eaten. Clean cookware. Begin to stretch and change into walk clothing. By 6:30 the bag is packed and I am moving east down Highway 2 that, over the upcoming 12 km to Summerstown hugs the shoreline of the St. Lawrence River very closely. So much so, that the houses perched on the thin strip of land between the roadway and the shore literally push the structures right up to — and in some instances — out over the water. I take a short 20-minute break at a place called Cameron’s Point, where I cook a pot of noodles at 10:20 am. As I am eating, a man drives out of the camp, stops, rolls the window down, and asks if I am going fishing. I tell him I have walked from Toronto and am walking to St. John’s. “Tabarnak!” he says with a big smile, waving as he drives off. Just as I am finishing up, a truck drives up, a guy jumps out with a weed wacker, and begins to disturb the beautiful and peaceful quiet of nature with obnoxious sounds of machinery. I pack up and continue on. I notice a knot in the muscle behind my left knee and take a few moments to stretch it out. Another half-hour down the road I notice a perfect, undamaged tiny robin’s egg lying directly in the centre of the gravel shoulder of the road. I imagine some animal attempting to eat it but having to abandon the effort for some surprise or disturbance. I pick it up, keep it warm in my gloved hand, and carry it with me five kilometres to the upcoming small town of Lancaster. As luck would have it, there is a veterinary clinic on the north side of Highway 401, but when I arrive at 11:30, a sign posted to the door informs me that the office is closed for lunch until 1:00. Return to the McDonalds I had walked by a half-hour ago to charge the Fitbit and the battery bank. I journal the day from yesterday afternoon up to the present. I get all files backed up and call to ensure that the vet clinic is open when 1:00 rolls around. I pack up, have all bottles refilled with water, and walk north retracing my steps back to the veterinary clinic. A sweet woman greets me. I explain what I’ve found, and she explains that their clinic doesn’t deal with birds. She would send me to another clinic one town down the highway but it is not the direction I am moving. I ask if perhaps she could drop the egg off on her ride home, but she says that she lives in the opposite direction. I propose that perhaps another employee from the clinic might be able to, and she says that there is someone who will be able to bring it by the clinic where there is an incubator. She tells me that she will keep the egg warm until delivered. I feel good about this outcome. I’m not sure if the unhatched creature has survived the night as it was quite cold, but if it has, it will have much better chances of surviving in an incubator than out on a cold highway. Go, little dude! A quick stop for pints, and then I am walking east down Old Highway 2, this time north of the 401. I am glad I am up here—the view is good, and there are some beautiful farms along this route. I pass a man working for an electric utility. I ask if he knows of any public land up ahead on which I might camp for the night. We talk for a few moments, and he asks where I am off to. I explain the challenge. “If you ever get the chance, it’s the best way to see the country.” “Good one!” he replies, laughing. I walk along Highway 2 for close to two hours, finding a great spot on a manicured piece of grassland under a wide and full tree. The sliver of land sits between an on-ramp passing overtop of the highway and an access road. I set the tent up facing westward, taking advantage of the wide tree’s branches thick with leaves for shade. The tent goes up quickly. I leave all windows open to allow a gentle breeze to flow through the screening and dry out the tent interior. Cook dinner, take photos, enjoy a pint, record a voice memo, and pack everything into the tent. Clean. Change. By 5:15 I am relaxing on the air mattress journalling out the day. It has again been a very good day walking, with a few interesting events. A nice easy breeze is waving around, exciting the grass and wildflowers into dance. I was thinking about how everyone must have dreams of doing something they innately know they must do. This is what I have been dreaming about for a very long time. I knew that I had to do this, or risk becoming bitter and angry over not achieving a personal dream. I am so thankful and grateful that I have decided that now is the time. Of note: at 6:45 a police car rolls up. The officer is checking up on a call received by a local resident concerned about seeing a tent set up close to the highway. The officer mentioned that it was alright to stay the night in my present spot, and as I explained that I will only be spending the night, he didn’t see this as a problem. He wished me well and drives off down the highway.
Today’s distance walked: 32.43 km | Total distance walked: 530.34 km
Riverside Heights to Glenwalter | Campsite: 45.03187° N, 74.63865° W
By 4:30 I wake into the crispy 2-degree morning. I eat a quick breakfast, stretch, then slowly change into walking gear. The wind pants and shell go on for starting out the day. What a perfect camp area I am walking out of this morning—and I received a good sleep from it! I take photos as I walk toward the town of Ingleside where I stop at a service station for a hot chocolate and bag of beef jerky. I eat and drink as I walk. Through the past few towns, new gravel has been put down along the highway shoulders. It is comfortable to walk on and feels good against the feet, but it is soft so I sink, requiring greater energy to move through it. The rain shell is removed about an hour and a half into walking, but the rain pants remain on through to a town called Long Sault. I walked 18 km by 10:00, which is good. I have been doing my best to achieve at least 15 km by 10:00 am as this opens up more opportunities for the afternoon. As the morning hours offer the most comfortable temperatures for walking, obtaining 15 km by 10:00 am allows for a 15-minute break, followed by 1.5 hours to 12:00 in which another 7–8 km can be walked. Under ideal circumstances, this yields 22–23 km by noon. An hour for lunch, rest, and stretching, and from 1:00 to 3:30 anywhere from 10 to 13 km nicely top off the day with a respectable 36–40 km daily distance. As the hours between 2:00 and 5:00 pm are the most difficult to walk due to the hot sun and humidity, it is very nice to wrap up a day’s walking by 3:30 pm at the latest if possible. Sometimes, it isn’t, and greater distance is simply required in order to find a suitable spot to camp. So far, I have 14 km more to walk toward the city of Cornwall, which is three hours at the most. I will be able to get some banking done as well as get an update on the poison ivy issue at the hospital. Following the highway toward Cornwall is a paved, multi-use trail that winds through forest, along the river, and through wetlands teeming with birds. Today’s walking is made quite peaceful through beautiful nature away from the noise and speed of vehicles. Upon entering Cornwall, the trail turns toward the water, past a massive power plant, and into the waterfront. I find a comfortable bench to boil water for tea and ramen. Finish eating by 12:00, and continue on to Brookdale Avenue which will take me downtown. Angle directly toward the bank and complete my chores within ten minutes, then continue on to the hospital, arriving sometime around 3:00. I wait in the emergency triage room for about an hour, but once called in I am speaking to a doctor within ten minutes. Explain the situation, and he assures me that the poison ivy is healing. He gives me a script for a follow-up on the prednisone in case I should have another run-in with these cranky plants down the road. Walk to a pharmacy to pick up my medication, and as I wait I charge the battery bank. The pharmacist at the cash register asks what I am doing with the pack, and when I explain he says that he would love to do something like this but that his work would never allow him to take the required amount of time off. This saddens me, but I suggest to him that he consider taking time in the future to plan something big for himself to do. I believe everyone should have the opportunity to engage in life-changing challenges. As I leave, he says “Walk safe.” I move quickly through town after acquiring a few pints, down to Montréal Road which turns back into Highway 2. By 7:10 pm I arrive at Precious Blood Cemetery. I notice a number of vehicles parked around the church and find a sign posted communicating that tonight is bingo night. I make my way into the cemetery, finding the most covered, hidden spot next to the water. I cook dinner and enjoy a pint. The evening begins to cool as the sun sets, and I quietly raise the tent. Change, and suit up in everything I have to stay warm. Out of nowhere, I hear two voices. When I peek out through the tent window, I find two guys fishing, casting from shore no more than four metres from my position. Had they arrived as I was snoozing? They don’t bother me, nor do I them. I drift off into sleep before the bingo players leave.
Today’s distance walked: 47.76 km | Total distance walked: 497.91 km
Cardinal to Riverside Heights | Campsite: 44.94166° N, 75.08547° W
My sleep in the Saint John’s United Riverside Cemetery was deep and rejuvenating. Because of the extent of yesterday’s wind, I had been anticipating a cold, windy night. However, last night was the warmest of the walk so far, with next to no wind throughout the night. The rain fly stayed in the tent, not required. I woke this morning at 4:00 am, an early start into breakfast, stretching, organizing, and packing gets me out walking by 5:30. Little traffic is running on the road, so the walk is peaceful and relatively quiet. Some sweet cows say “Good morning!”, a rooster wakes up a barn, and a white-tail deer flashes too quickly and gracefully into the greenery for me to be able to capture it with the camera. By 7:00, I am entering the town of Iroquois where I enjoy a coffee. Map the route ahead, input expenses, and write the morning into the notebook. As the phone charges, I look into the distance, and projected time of rain, and have my water bottles filled. As Morrisburg is only 16 km down the road, I’m thinking of finishing charging the phone in the pack as I walk. Washroom break, then back out by 7:30. Morrisburg is located on a 12 km straight section of roadway following the St. Lawrence River. The walk is not scenic, but not dull either. I spend 30 minutes at a McDonalds copying files and backing up, then a pit stop. I am out again by 11:45 walking to 1:00 and a place called Riverside Heights, which is a very small village right on the shores of the river. About three kilometres east of it I see a very large and newly-landscaped public park with soft, recently cut grass and level grounds. I spot a great area behind some trees, set up the tent, and cook food for dinner. I then hear a large industrial grass cutter in the distance, and within a few minutes, I see it, a hundred metres in the distance. Within ten minutes, as the rounds being cut are becoming smaller and smaller, the driver is getting ever closer to the location where I am set up. The next pass, he drives right beside the tent. “Ok”, I say, “The moment of truth. Do I get to stay, or do I get told to leave?” As he drives by he gives me a big thumbs-up sign! Alright—I can stay. The next pass he makes I head out to wave him down so that I can ask if my camping in this spot for the night will be alright. He says absolutely and not to worry about it. He then asks where I am off to, and we talk for a few minutes. I ask him his name and he says it is Scott. I thank him, he continues his work, and I set up the rain fly in preparation for the rain soon to fall. As I am changing I notice a tick on my left knee. I safely remove it, capture it in the tweezer jar, and wipe the bite area with antiseptic. Upon reaching Cornwall tomorrow I will stop in at the Community Hospital to get it checked out. I journal the day out, logging just over 30 km of distance today in an effort to bypass the rain. The walk to Cornwall will be around 30 km, and then another 124 km from Cornwall to Montréal. That will then give me four days to walk 31 km per day into the city. Of note: from Cornwall into Montréal, the terrain climbs 1,470 metres.
Today’s distance walked: 31.38 km | Total distance walked: 450.15 km
