Trois-Rivières to Champlain   |   Campsite: 46.44239° N, 72.34341° W

Early to sleep, early to rise. By 4:00 I am eating breakfast and by 4:45 the tent is down. I walk toward the water through the large “Laviolette Park” which surrounds the northern section of the bridge with the same name. Walk along the water, snapping a few photos of the bridge as it arcs south toward the U.S.A. I continue walking toward some early morning wifi, waiting 15 minutes on a bench in a neighbouring park until 6:00 for the restaurant to open. The goal is to work for the three hours the battery bank requires to fully charge. I would love to use this morning to gain distance, however without backup energy I won’t be able to keep capturing, so the batteries take priority for the moment. When I arrive at the restaurant, it isn’t open. As I need to buy a new fuel canister anyway, I decide to walk 5.5 km into the town of Trois-Rivières where I will be able to pick one up at a Canadian Tire store. Wifi will be acquired a few doors down from Canadian Tire, so I’ll be able to complete a number of chores. I arrive by 7:00, plug in all devices requiring a charge, back up all files to the external drive, post to the blog, and then settle into some writing and transcription. I fill all water bottles here. I find the town of Champlain 23 km up Highway 138, with all of the road lying along the shores of the St. Lawrence River, just as the man explained last night at the dépanneur. I am very much looking forward to today’s walk, as well as that of the upcoming four days of walking to Quebec City! As I am packing up to leave, an elderly man sitting at the next table enjoying a coffee with the morning paper, asks about my journey. His voice is very soft, and the hand gestures he includes within his communication are gentle and slow. We talk for about ten minutes. His initial question is made in French until he hears my response. From then on, I would speak in French, and him in English. This is something I have experienced throughout my time conversing with the residents of the province of Québec. I believe it is a strategy used by the people living here to put their guests at ease and also to encourage conversation. And while my ability to speak French requires much more practice, I prefer to address my hosts in their native language out of respect. I just hope that I am not overly butchering the language. He tells me that he had lived in St. John’s Newfoundland for a few years and that my route ahead along the St. Lawrence River is beautiful. This was how I met Réginauld at a Mcdonald’s in Trois-Rivières as I was charging the batteries and writing. We say goodbye and I walk to buy more fuel across the street. Walking through the city sends me above freeways, below train lines, around racetracks, and circumnavigating baseball fields. Two large bridges and 16.5 km later I am heating up a lunch of ramen noodles with one of the three pieces of pizza left from yesterday. I buy pints from a dépanneur that are enjoyed with my meal on a picnic table in a green space. The woman behind the register laughs at me as I am expecting to find the green grounds of a college on which to eat my lunch. She laughs as she says there is no college here. I do find a building in the process of being converted—perhaps this was it? I take an hour to write and eat. I continue on, walking under a bright sun through to the town of Champlain, where a church with an attached graveyard provides a very nice and hidden area for a night’s rest. Rice is cooked, enjoyed though eaten quickly, as I am hungry. Also tired. The property to the rear of the building is surrounded by fencing, with a row of taller trees planted alongside providing comforting shade. As I am eating, a man with a small son drives up on an ATV, their path on the other side of the fence. I ask him if he knows whether the plot of grass I am currently sitting on belongs to the church or to the neighbouring farm. He is unsure, but as he clearly sees that I am hiking, he assures me that I will not have any issues spending the evening in this location. This is encouraging and I thank him before he drives off. I am also very satisfied that the site is well-hidden. I set up the tent without the rain fly. The temperature will dip down to 14 degrees at the most, which allows for the opportunity to keep the screen windows uncovered throughout the night. I journal the day and read for an hour. The church here in Champlain, called Notre-Dame-de-la-Visitation, is surrounded by lovely grounds, with large trees providing shade. A soothing, cooling breeze steadily blows through the area, which is always comforting after a day of walking. I am feeling rather parched from the heat of the day and the brightness of the sun. The day’s walk offered no opportunities for refilling the water bottles. As of now, only one full bottle remains, which will be required not only for breakfast tomorrow, but also the first 12 km to the closest dépanneur located in a small village called le Marigot, just east of Batsman. The dépanneur opens at 7:00 am, so hopefully I’ll be able to refill on water at this location. 

Today’s distance walked: 35.16 km   |    Total distance walked: 821.96 km

“They refuse to fight the good fight because they do not know what to do with their own happiness; they are imprisoned by the things of the world. Just as I have been, who wanted to find my sword without knowing what to do with it.”

– Paulo Coelho, “The Pilgrim,” pp.220–221.