Perth-Andover to Florenceville-Bristol | Campsite: 46.42406° N, 67.61198° W
By 1:30 I am walking across the bridge into the town of “Florenceville-Bristol” from the west eastward to the shores of the Saint John River. The morning began at 5:30 after shaking out a wet tent that had accumulated water over the course of the night from a very misty, very foggy river. By 9:30 the long sleeve fleece comes off, and when I stop to eat an 11:00 lunch in a dirt entrance into a very green farm field, the Patagonia pants are swapped out for Lululemon shorts. By 2:00 the temperature of this fully clear and sunny day will climb to 24 degrees. Today was spent walking a small two-lane highway on the west shore of the river—Highway 130. Like most highways, there were numerous endlessly straight sections, however, the limited traffic made the walk today peaceful. Walking across the bridge into town this afternoon was both comforting and exciting. Actually, walking across any bridge has me feeling this way. There is something about walking across any bridge has me accessing aspirational memories. There is something about walking away from this place I used to inhabit, toward that place I will soon inhabit via this liminal space—the bridge. I am always reminded that if I keep walking, seeking, and searching, the potential I am in search of will materialize. The scene that perpetually comes to mind is that of Ewan McGregor, after ripping off his “mates” in the closing scene of “Trainspotting”, walking across a bridge, the day sun-filled, the depth of field beautifully blurring out the background, moving away from that old, dead lifestyle. Underworld’s “Born Slippy” underscores the entire scene, a band that I have fond memories of as it served as an anthem from my college graduation into my introduction to professional practice. So, here I am twenty years later having the same emotional reactions as I walk over this bridge after a full day of walking, in the sun with backgrounds artfully blurred out. Hot, sore, and tired, I acquire cold pints and enjoy them under a number of cedar trees with picnic tables placed within the shade cast. I journal the day, which is not outstanding nor dull—it has been a day of acquiring the necessary distance required. Tomorrow I’ll walk 19 km to the town of “Hartland”, work at a coffee shop, cross the world’s longest covered bridge back to the west shore of the river, and walk 39 km to a town called “Woodstock.” I meet a man named Al at a coffee shop as I am preparing to transcribe hand-written notes in Perth-Andover. We get to talking about the province of New Brunswick, about his growing up here in the area but later traveling to the city of Toronto for work, and his returning to Perth-Andover for retirement, love, and life. This is a story I have heard told by people growing up in small communities countless times since my own youth. People feel the pressure to move to larger centres in order to experience growth, education, personal development, and the acquisition of work. In order to meet these dreams of bettering one’s life, they have all had to abandon their homes. Al has a patient, quiet demeanor, and his eyes inquisitively guide the conversation. As he leaves in pursuit of chores requiring attention, he wishes me luck with a smile. I transcribe notes, back up files, and post to the blog. I book a room for three nights down the road in Fredericton, from Friday to Monday morning, for a good price. The next four days will be 40+ km walking per day. I wrap up at the coffee shop by 7:00.
Today’s distance walked: 44.51 km | Total distance walked: 1,472.34 km
“When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don’t even understand the language the people speak… You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in different situations.”
– Paulo Coelho, “The Pilgrimage”, p. 32.
Grand Falls to Perth-Andover | Campsite: 46.72097° N, 67.72271° W
I am prepared to walk by 5:30. As I acquire coffee and a few donuts I ask the staff if following “Ouest River Road” or Highway 130 would be a better walk to the town of “Perth-Andover”, which is 42 km down the road. They both recommend taking the Trans-Canada—as they mostly drive from town to town, the TC for them being the most efficient route. I decide to follow the “River Road” that shadows the Saint John River as it will no doubt offer better views and less traffic. As I am making my way to the road, I notice a paved trail and decide to follow it until it brings me to a road. It turns out, I have just stumbled upon another section of “The Great Trail”! I’ve been lucky to have had numerous opportunities to walk sections of this trail throughout this challenge, and all of them have been scenic. I feel very fortunate to have walked the majority of the sections of “The Great Lakes Waterfront Trail” east of Toronto through to Kingston, and very much enjoyed these sections! So my initial instinct to angle toward the river road was good and right. I will continue to listen more and more to my gut. From 7:00 to 11:00 the trail is entirely mine—nobody else is on it. But then the four-wheelers and ATVs come out, bringing with them noise and dust. The walking is still amazing! It is most likely the best walking yet! At 2:00 I arrive in the town of “Perth-Andover”, having walked 41 km all along “The Great Trail”. Shirley was a woman I met while shopping for food at a grocery store in Perth-Andover. She was a wonderful help to me in finding the trail eastward to the city of Fredericton and guiding me to a public park downtown in which I would be able to prepare and eat some food. I conversed with her for twenty minutes. I then met Jim at Tim Hortons. Jim grew up in Perth-Andover, later moving to Toronto for work, and in retirement, has moved back to the area. We had a nice conversation about the town, the walk, and a few things I should be looking for over the upcoming stretch to Fredericton (such as in 30 km, the town of Hartland is home to the longest covered bridge in the world that I won’t want to miss), as well as the stretch from the cities of Fredericton to Moncton, which he claims I will find more resources than I have been able to find online. He says “Good luck” when he leaves, saying not to finish until I reach St. John’s. I pack up and walk into town. I walk to “Riverside Drive” in search of the trail. I don’t find it, so l walk Highway 130 to a point at 4:30 where I find a good spot to settle in, crawling into the tent for the night.
Today’s distance walked: 46.96 km | Total distance walked: 1,427.83 km
Ste-Anne-de-Madawaska to Grand Falls | Campsite: 47.05676° N, 67.74270° W
I arrive at the town of “St-Léonard” by 8:00, grabbing a coffee with short rest to journal the morning. I woke up late at 4:30, having the bag packed by 5:30, and walking by 5:45. The morning is foggy with the landscape appearing in various shades of blue-green-grey receding down either side of the road. Just after I walk up to the road an eight- or ten-car train rolls slowly and loudly along the section of rail I was camped beside. It is moving slowly, sending sparks showering out from the wheels in all directions. If I was three minutes slower in getting prepared for the day, the tent may have been in serious trouble. Lesson learned: do not take industrial infrastructure lightly—it is serious, and camping on the land of industrial infrastructure could end badly for me. As today is Saturday, a noticeable reduction of traffic has been moving along Highway 144, a silent forum for the birds who have been engaged in lively, healthy debates all morning. I have 13.21 km, with an additional 21 km of walking to reach the town of “Grand Falls”. I should arrive sometime around 12:30. The walk is relatively uneventful, the peace and silence deteriorating as I make my way closer to town as the volume of traffic escalates. A car slows to a stop on the opposite side of the road. A man asks where I am off to, and I say I’ve walked from Toronto and on to St. John’s. He says “How strong,” gives me a thumbs up, smiles, and waves as he drives off. On the city limits, I spot a good place to cook lunch and take thirty minutes to rest, snapping a few photographs as I listen to podcasts. By 1:45 I have connected to wifi at a restaurant and spent the next four hours backing up digital files, organizing, and posting to the blog. Three days of notes are transcribed, and prepared for posting. I map out tomorrow’s walk, and then a suitable, safe place to camp the night is scouted. By 6:00 the tent is up and I am preparing for the evening. I put the day into the journal, and spend some time looking over the space between the city of Fredericton and Moncton, a leg of the walk that had me concerned before starting this walk due to the lack of towns and resources between the two cities. However, my exploration this evening may have found a route providing enough water and food. I’ll research it more over the days ahead and during my few days of rest in Fredericton. An hour is spent reading before the tent windows are closed. Bedding is shimmied into, and heavy eyelids are left free to fall into sleep.
Today’s distance walked: 36.94 km | Total distance walked: 1,380.87 km
“Among the greatest sensations that I have experienced in my life were those I felt on that unforgettable first night on the Road to Santiago… I looked up at the sky; the Milky Way spread across it, reflecting the immensity of the Road we would have to travel.”
– Paulo Coelho, “The Pilgrimage”, pp. 28–29.
