Berthierville to Louiseville | Campsite: 46.25226° N, 72.95067° W
The morning is close to perfect—waking refreshed into a sunny morning under a blue sky is the best motivation to get the day started! I was thinking about how the daily process of putting up and tearing down the tent, of inflating and deflating the ThermaRest mattress, and of unpacking and repacking again, and again, and again might become monotonous, but it hasn’t been that way at all. When the tent is up and the mattress is being inflated, an almost giddy sense of excitement begins to build, knowing that sore bones will soon be relaxing and healing within the warmth of the quilt and sleeping bag liner. Each morning as the pack gradually fills and the tent comes down, the act of getting out into the day to walk fills me with a sense of curiosity and excitement, and with it all of the wonderful surprises down the road that I will experience. And so as I walk the five kilometres into the town of Berthierville for coffee, the internet, posting content to the blog, and some transcription of notes, I feel excited at how the physical act of walking is fuelling multiple forms of creative production, and how in turn that creative production is inspiring me to get out into the world to see, collect, document, and play with even more material. This walk is a type of perpetual motion machine, each aspect of the experience fuelling the other, and so far I have been loving every minute of it. By 9:00 I am preparing to get back out, with the town of Louiseville as the destination for the day, a comfortable 29 km distance down the road. I will stop for fruit at a grocery store to pick up a tasty snack before leaving town. The scenery is lovely for the entire section of the highway, bordered by nice small homes and big views of the river. Sometime around 10:30, the road crosses the fast-moving Highway 40, and everything becomes very big! Big views, big skies, big farmhouses, barns, and fields. This stretch of highway runs a full 15 km to Louiseville straight as a nail, not a single turn, as it runs through massive farm fields organized around 90-degree angles of each other. The air smells sweet, and while no crops are visibly growing, the sweet scent of corn or canola hangs pleasantly in the air. At almost exactly 12:00 I arrive at the crossroads of Highway 138 (the road I’ve been walking) and Montée St-Laurent. At this crossroad is a small restaurant with picnic tables set out in the sun, a gas station, and a dépanneur. I buy two pints, boil water at one of the tables, and enjoy the sunshine as I eat lunch, journal, and familiarize myself with the road ahead to Louiseville. A beautiful day, as the sun and a blue sky light my way through a lovely 14-degree afternoon. The walk to Maskinongé begins at 1:15. It is an incredibly straight line, cutting through large but beautiful farm fields. When I reach the next dépanneur, a man filling up his vehicle with fuel motions me to approach the truck window he has lowered. He must be a contract painter as both his and the clothes of his partner are covered in white paint. We talk about the walk, the beautiful province of Québec, and my plans to be in St. John’s by August. His name is Julien, speaking excitedly between pulls on his cigarette hanging at a precarious angle from the corner of his lips. We say goodbye, and I enter the air-conditioned interior of the dépanneur to buy a few large pints. When I exit, I meet a very polite man outside wishing to know what I am doing when he sees my pack. We speak briefly at the entryway of the store. He seems impressed that I’ve come all this way. He lives just outside of Montréal: his work brings him here often. He wishes me luck and we shake hands. I ask him his name—Eric, he says. A very nice, soft-spoken guy! Louiseville is now only a 7.8 km walk in a nearly perfect straight line from the town of Maskinongé, as it is surrounded on all sides by farming operations. The view is profound as I am able to see towns dozens of kilometres across flat, dark, rich soil. By 4:15 I am walking into Louiseville where I aim for a coffee shop and the internet. A post is written up for tomorrow’s addition to the blog, with additional transcription for two more days of written notes. I also spend some time looking for a suitably hidden spot to set up the tent for the night, mapping out where good green spaces are located. Even though the staff filled up my water bottles at the coffee shop, I want to use as little as possible due to tomorrow’s 37 km walk into Trois-Rivières which will see very few opportunities to refill throughout the day, other than at a few spots in its surrounding suburbs. I start a conversation about the highway northeast toward Québec City with a man named Gaston who is working at a dépanneur next door to the cafe. He was very approachable, and he was patient with my bumbling questions. He described the upcoming route northeast along the St. Lawrence River as scenic and quite close to the water—so close, in fact, that I’ll be able to reach over and touch it. He reinforced his description with hand gestures that mimic the scooping up of water from the surface of a stream. He said that the landscape is beautiful, composed of small towns set amid beautiful farm fields. I say thanks and goodbye, walking to a public park ten minutes toward the centre of a residential neighbourhood. Within 15 minutes I find a hidden and very comfortable spot in which to pitch the tent. I eat first at a bench where I boil water to cook a ramen dinner. By 7:45, the sun is much lower in the sky, entangled in the trees surrounding the park, with the ensuing dark providing ample cover to set up the tent. Today, 40 kilometres have been walked, and I am satisfied with the distance. I am also delighted with the three nice conversations shared with people met over the course of the day! A day of good progress and connection.
Today’s distance walked: 40.1 km | Total distance walked: 749.76 km
St-Sulpice to Berthierville | Campsite: 46.03152° N, 73.18091° W
The morning is still, quiet, and dark when I wake at 4:40 from incredibly vivid dreams. Normally in Toronto, I don’t dream. I fall asleep, and only the blackest of darkness permeates my sleep until I wake. However, I have experienced periods of dreaming when traveling to Vancouver, Poland, Germany, Guatemala, to Halifax. It is as though my mind is using these hours of sleep to process these new, novel creative experiences. These periods of dreaming often persist for a few weeks upon returning to the city, but eventually, my sleep slowly fades back to black. For now, my mind seems to be very active overnight! I pack quickly, setting out to walk by 5:30, with the morning still dark, approaching the silver hour. I am disheartened to realize that this road—Rue Notre-Dame (Highway 138)—is relatively busy, even at this early hour, with a near-constant stream of traffic. I walk just over two hours for 11.4 km and break for coffee at a restaurant with wifi located in the town of Lavaltrie. I write a blog post, journal down the morning, and type up another day from the notebook. A very fine rain is beginning to fall: the pavement outside slowly begins to darken with the thinnest sheen of water. As I am working in the restaurant, a table of four elderly people is having a great conversation, erupting constantly in laughter! I finish transcribing a few days of writing, and colour correct a number of supporting images. By now, the rain has increased, and as I am dry inside, I am a bit hesitant for stepping out into it. The rain appears to be tapering off by 12:00, and stopping altogether by 1:00. As the temperature will not rise upwards of 10 degrees for the afternoon, a later day of walking will not be a bad strategy as I much prefer walking in cooler temperatures. I would also rather be warm in a dry tent than cold in a wet tent. At 12:44 I am still seated in the restaurant—over four hours later. I have made good use of the time. I have transcribed five more days of notes, created all supporting images for each of the blog posts, and uploaded all unpublished entries. All writing is up to date for the walk. Everything written up to three days ago is ready to publish. While still raining, I prepare to leave, still intent on arriving in Berthierville 26 km down the road by evening. By 3:15 I have entered the town of Lanoraie, its central church spire the first structure to be seen eight kilometres outside of the town’s limits. I stop at the dépanneur for two 10.1% Labatt Dry pints to enjoy with my lunch of couscous and rice alongside a blueberry cup of tea—all cooked and enjoyed in the town’s central public park. The rain began to ease off about an hour ago, and by the time I eat my lunch, it has stopped altogether, with the forecast showing day after day of sun! Berthierville is still 15 km away—that’s three more very full hours of walking. I’ll be leaving here by 4:00 at the earliest. This means that I’ll still have to find a campsite, even though I already have an area in mind, by 7:00 at the earliest. This is the point at which a man walking two greyhound dogs approaches me, asking in French where I am coming from. I attempt to communicate the point at which I began this challenge back in Toronto on May 6, that I’ve walked to this point over the past 19 days, and that my ultimate destination is St. John’s Newfoundland. He seems interested, and sits at the picnic table, his lovely greyhounds taking the opportunity to nose nudge my hands into petting them throughout our conversation. This is how I met Andrew and his two wonderfully calm dogs in the park of Lanoraie while eating my lunch. We have an amazing conversation that includes the importance of travel, Buddhism, veganism, and culture. I really loved the time sitting with Andrew as the day transformed from an overcast grey into bright, crisp sunshine and blue sky. It was great spending time with him, as the confidence and calm with which he spoke about travel to Europe, Indonesia, the Philippines, and Asia revealed something authentic about the man—his love for travel, challenge, and the desire to constantly be learning. We say goodbye, I organize the pack and set westward. The road between Lanoraie and Berthierville is beautiful, teetering on the shores of the St. Lawrence River so impossibly close! The sun radiates light as massive tanker ships glide along the surface of the water. By 6:30, I call it a day 6 km west of my intended destination. A well-manicured rest stop appears on the shoreline side of the road, and green grassy level stretches of the park alongside picnic tables are too good to pass up. I cook a meal of ramen, journal down the day, and soon enough 7:30 is upon me. The tent goes up with rain fly, and I lean into another eventful day darkening into a breezy, steadily more silent evening.
Today’s distance walked: 33.43 km | Total distance walked: 709.66 km
“Most people don’t do things like this because of insecurity. You’ll find that insecurity prevents most people from doing amazing things. You’re learning this the farther you walk.”
– Andrew, a man I met over lunch in Lanoraie, Québec
Montréal to St-Sulpice | Campsite: 45.82721° N, 73.35690° W
Another flawless sleep sees me begin the week of walking prepared as much as possible. Up out of bed by 6:30 am, organizing gear and food for the day. Plan out the upcoming 137 km section of walking to the town of Trois-Rivières along the northern shore of the St. Lawrence River. I make a one-night reservation in Quebec City for the night of May 30, which will set a pace of 40 km per day over the upcoming 7–8 days of walking. Looking forward to the week! One final look around the flat, then out by 9:15. I move northeast along Boul René Lévesque E out of town. I enjoy mostly all cycling trails until I break for lunch at just under 16 km. The day has been beautiful: sunny and mild, with a cool breeze, which are perfect conditions for walking. This morning at the flat I had portioned out a box of 5-minute rice, couscous, and rice seasoning into seven individual ziplock bags for meals, and I cook one of them for today’s lunch, enjoying it with a few pints secured from an SAQ a few kilometres back. The route leading out of Montréal was nice along tree-lined bicycle paths. After about nine km the road became surrounded by industrial shipping ports for grain, petroleum, and cargo goods. The last five kilometres have seen a noticeable reduction in traffic, including large and loud transport trucks. Here’s hoping the way after lunch continues towards silence and natural landscapes. 1:00 I return to the road. I walk through to 5:30. There is not much to comment on. The scenery was mediocre at best, but I can’t expect much in the way of beauty from the fringes of a massive city. Nothing more than ugly suburban homes securitized by fences surrounding natural resources cordoned off through personalized forms of organized hoarding—such as beachfront territory that should be made available to all Canadians, rich and poor—instead of endless families usurping territory so incredibly productive but unaware of how to do anything with it except to plant idiotic lawns. I end up walking to St.-Sulpice, a very small village along the water. I met two very nice young people working in a gas station/coffee shop. They refill my water bottles eagerly, and I pick up a pint for the evening. We talk about my plans for walking to the east coast through the attractive little towns and villages along the St. Lawrence River. They both seem interested, excited, and I try to keep up with the conversation in French. Both of them—as well as a few customers—offer thoughts on options for places to tent overnight. An interesting and pleasant experience! I walk a quieter, residential street to a church with a surrounding cemetery I earlier noticed on Apple Maps, and upon arrival proceed quickly to the back-most area providing the best possible cover. Boil water, cook ramen, and enjoy the post-walking day with a few deliciously cold pints. As the grounds are surrounded on all sides by residential properties, complete with wall of evergreen trees and a cedar hedge separating the grounds of the cemetery from residential backyards, I wait for close to an hour before setting up the tent and preparing for sleep. The goal is to be as silent and invisible as possible. 8:30 I am inside, wriggling into the quilt, and settling back into an oncoming deep sleep for the night.
Today’s distance walked: 41.4 km | Total distance walked: 676.23 km
