Walking Through It All

Hiking For Two And A Half Months Over 2,580 km

Day 70
I remember slumping over onto the gravel road. I couldn’t have been out for that long as the water I had set to heat on the stove hadn’t yet boiled. I had removed my shoes, setting aside much of my gear in the shade cast from a pine tree. Most of the distance covered was made under the heat of an unrelenting sun, without cover from it along the Trans Canada Highway. The day had been one of the longest yet at 35 km walked with over 15 remaining to the city of Sydney. I would reach North Sydney by 7:00 that evening on this final day of my challenge. It would be one of the most difficult days of walking I had ever attempted.

Two decades of walking

My earliest memories of long-distance walking date back to 2002. I started to make long walks through the city. The explorative aspect of these walks fueled an excitement for much longer forays into regions I had never seen. This was my weekend interest. They would help get me through two years of advanced study and would transform into a much larger and expansive practice sometime around 2013 while living in Western Canada for two years. Walking beneath unending skies and through the desert heat provided a new experience making distance with my feet. Over those years I began to find connections between the things I was learning as a designer with those I was experiencing through increasingly longer and more rigorous walks. These walks that began as loops throughout the city, starting and ending at the same point, would evolve into two-day explorations involving camp gear and dry foods. Soon, walking from Toronto to neighbouring cities became manageable explorations. 60 and 70-km walks didn’t seem so big anymore.

Just as those initial modest walks, beginning as loops throughout the city expanded into 16-day through-hikes walking from my hometown south to Toronto, so did the scale of self-initiated art and design projects grow in scale. Merging these two interests — one intellectually conducted indoors, the other physically practiced outdoors — produced unexpected outcomes and intriguing possibilities.

There were important influences. Andrew Forsthoefel, with his radio story Walking Across America: Advice for a Young Man [1] published on transom.org was the first story of somebody setting out to do a big thing that inspired me to explore long walks. The podcast The Attempt [2] documenting Ben Drachman’s walk through the Pacific Crest Trail also excited me at the possibilities of challenging oneself with a massive undertaking. A recent source of inspiration is Craig Mod. He conducts long walks along historic Japanese routes, documenting these experiences through written and photographic reflection. He was interviewed on The Longform Podcast [3] where he explained how his walking practice has influenced his career as a writer. His storytelling within these beautiful books has greatly inspired creative output for documenting my own experiences with big walks. Craig Mod’s beautiful Things Become Other Things [4] publication has inspired my attention. To view how his books are published by the most notable Japanese craftspeople, see the documentation of his publication Kissa by Kissa. [5] This work, produced by a writer, designers, printers, stitchers, and binders of merit has provoked my reassessment of quality and craft in design. This is work produced by creative individuals cultivating their specific path, which I admire. I consider myself lucky to own a copy of both Things Become Other Things and Kissa by Kissa.

Over this project, I kept a hand-written journal where personal reflections, key dates, distances, and locations were noted. These notes would be transcribed and uploaded to a simple journal blog titled The Silver Hour. [6] It would serve as the primary source from which the four books for this project were written. The thousands of photographs taken were used as visual material for the three visual essay books.

Day 1
Kilometre 0. 3:26 am. I woke a half-hour ago as light from the full white moon angled into the bedroom, settling across the bed at sharp diagonals. A clear, cold sky. The temperature was 9 degrees. The pack was ready, as was I. I had no control over the cool morning temperature. The last breakfast will be eaten here in the flat for over the upcoming three months — assuming all goes well. I would eat, brush my teeth, and unplug all electronics before stepping into the 6:00 morning. The city was still, relatively quiet, with that dull steely light hovering before the rising sun. I’ll descend the stairs, breathe deeply, open the door, and set out with my first step of the upcoming millions that will incrementally take me thousands of kilometres into Eastern Canada.

Why was I doing this?

This challenge began with a set of intentions. At the time these intentions were based on beliefs of what I thought I wanted to achieve through this challenge. I knew that some of them would consistently remain, some would change, and others would disappear altogether, replaced with more relevant ones evolving over the walk.

This walk was a massive challenge I designed to test personal narratives I had developed over several years. I believed I needed one, losing interest in the city. I was interested in exchanging the noise and speed of the city for more natural environments and pace of movement. At various times I have driven from Halifax through to Nanaimo. I wanted an experience with the landscape whereby I was personally and physically responsible for my movement. Walking and camping in nature eventually uncovered something else. I learned that I missed living in nature. I have spent longer living in a massive city than I had planned, and this time away from something once so innate and necessary had become distant and unfamiliar. I began to stress less over finding suitable, safe campsites, as they would emerge from the wild at the end of each day. As my confidence grew over my surroundings, the joy I felt in my reacquaintance with nature increased.

Curiosity is one of my five most important values. Curiosity is the spark for embarking on new endeavours, creating the conditions and interest for venturing into the world. It is the source of serendipity from which new opportunities emerge. I have learned that whenever I follow my interests, good things are found. The initial intention catalyzing my interest in a walk of this magnitude arose from a sense of adventure. Travel is inspiring, and it excites me every time I daydream about venturing into new places. I have interpreted travel for several years as an experience fulfilled through walking. This interest in long-distance walking encompasses many aspects I find exciting, such as seeking, learning, fulfilling a strong curiosity about the world around me and exploring it in a manner atypical to how most prefer. From day one to the final day, a strong sense of adventure remained with me. This translated into meeting people as the walk progressed. I am largely an introverted person and social connection can be difficult. As I walked, experiencing gratitude for the kindness extended to me by those I met along the way, my excitement for meeting people increased along with the distance gained.

Day 48
As I was settling into the end of the day, a man appeared at the door of my tent. He introduced himself as Stirling, living across the road in a large farmhouse. He had brought me a dinner plate piled high with chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. “You’re welcome to enjoy some dinner in your tent, or you could come over and dine with us.” He invited me across the road into his home, where I met his wife, Florence. Stirling was related to a prominent scientist (last name Goddard) involved in early research for NASA’s technology for spacecraft and space flight. Stirling taught engineering for 33 years at the college in Moncton, and Florence supply-taught for 25 years. What a surprise to have enjoyed some company for the evening after a full day moving through the world. The day was difficult, but it was followed by incredible grace.

A need to create meaningful mental images

Much of the mental images I have of the world are those that others have placed there. Images from movies, the nightly news, mass culture, or those produced from the stories I have been told are all representations I have adopted. These images I have embraced out of a lack of personal experience. The images I held of places and cities in the stories told to me by family or friends are ones daydreamed based on the narratives of the storytellers. This challenge was an opportunity to create mental images of my own. For years these places had occupied my daydreams, residing in thought, not experience. The decision to walk, explore, meet people, see distant places, immerse myself in new cultures, and challenge myself through it all created a collection of personal images — both mental and photographic. This satisfied a long, atavistic urge to set out to explore the world and to learn new knowledge from it. I would return to my life afterward richer for having lept into constant conditions of uncertainty. While I was ultimately unable to achieve the city of St. John’s, I consider the walk a success, having obtained the consolation prize of walking 2,580 km in distance.

Walking into cities was always exciting. Days entering cities would be made purposely short. This was accomplished by extending distances covered on days previous to entering urban areas. This change of pace provided increased time for exploring the towns and cities I had heard so much about. These short 20 km days of walking to hostels located in vibrant downtown districts were fun and quick, maximizing my freedom to wander, explore restaurants, mend clothing, and interact with residents. I would wander the streets of these urban gems, exploring them in detail both on foot and with pen and paper, however, these distances were never included in the walk odometer. Only distances moving me eastward were logged. The distances walked throughout my urban rests were logged in a different category — a more personal one somehow.

Day 42
An hour outside of Fredericton, I found the Great Trail leading through city suburbs along the waterfront of the river. Not ten minutes into walking I heard a voice exclaim, “Well, it looks like I should start walking.” I turned to see Jean with a big smile cycling up beside me! I had met him on the road yesterday, bike-packing through three weeks of vacation. We laughed, and moved toward the city together, each describing our evenings. We stopped at a picnic table to exchange contact information and talked about our upcoming trekking plans. We wished each other well, and I again watched him ride along the trail ahead, disappearing beyond the trees and into the upcoming suburbs. Within an hour I would be seated enjoying a coffee after a short day. The city was waking up, and stores were opening as my hotel room was being prepared for a four-day reservation.

Challenges and limits

This through-hike was certainly a challenge. Adventures such as this have often been written about where the accumulation of physical, emotional, and mental challenges contribute to long-lasting life-changing perspectives. Hikers often reflect upon the challenges arising from nature, such as navigation, weather conditions, physical terrain, as well as the dangers inherent within wild spaces. I began to identify several kinds of struggle, such as the daily distances required to move consistently over my planned route, and moving at a pace mentally and physically obtainable. I wanted neither to sprint nor crawl through each day. I settled into a comfortable but satisfying daily pace of 40–45 km. Arriving at Rivière-du-Loup in 33 days felt satisfying having achieved it in good time without rushing. Challenges of this kind feel healthy as they reconfirm one’s sense of autonomy and strength, and they’re obtainable in execution.

There are also limits. Most days of walking concluded with a sense of achievement and gratitude. They were the vast majority whereby healthy challenges were successfully met. There were, however, several days in which personal limits were tested. Reasons for this are varied: waiting hours to see a doctor with an additional hour for obtaining prescription medications; waiting out the rain, pushing my walking into early darkness along roadways; walking numerous consecutive days into headwinds along the shore of the St. Lawrence River; and 12 days of consistent rain that degraded my feet health, ultimately concluding my walk in Sydney due to excessive pain. These were the conditions that tested personal limits. These were the scary days, the days in which I was unsure of my ability to achieve success through the harsh challenges emerging from this unfamiliar world. I learned the important difference between challenges and limits. It is possible to reframe one’s sense of strength and ability by succeeding in challenges and testing limits, but it can be dangerous when operating alone in remote wilderness.

Understanding which challenges are healthy and obtainable lends clarity to where one’s limits begin. This relationship between challenges and limits will be tested and reflected upon throughout the process of curiously and creatively exploring new territories — whether they be physical or intellectual. I have discovered that constant exploration expands the scope of challenges in a healthy and meaningful way. The things that once seemed so challenging now feel small and inconsequential, more comfortable and familiar. Limits are a different thing, and I am still reflecting on the effects of those encountered throughout this experience and the change they provoked. One thing is for sure: both challenges and limits are capable of changing perspectives in radical ways.

Day 19
I met Andrew and his two wonderfully calm dogs in the park of Lanoraie while eating lunch. We had an amazing conversation that included the importance of travel, Buddhism, veganism, and culture. Talking with Andrew was inspiring and memorable. It was fun 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 his drive to learn constantly. He told me, “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.” We said goodbye and I organized the pack, continuing westward.

The expectation, the experience, and the documentation

One of my initial expectations was to make it fully to the city of St. John’s in Newfoundland. I would, unfortunately, end the walk 900 km short of this destination due to foot issues acquired over two weeks of walking through heavy rain in Nova Scotia. I believe the correct decision was made. Not only were the final days of walking extremely painful, they were unenjoyable. A second expectation I had made before commencing the walk was that I wanted the experience to be enjoyable. If the walk in any way became miserable and unenjoyable, I would feel comfortable ending the experience. I have always associated the act of walking with enjoyment and excitement, and I couldn’t think of a reason for forcing myself to endure misery. That point was reached in Sydney where, after one of the longest distances walked in a single day was recorded, the decision was made to end after 70 days.

For an overactive mind, the expectations of upcoming events can often exceed the actual experiences. The expectations I had developed over decades of daydreaming about an experience such as this were significant. In previous adventures, expectations often overshadowed actual events. Often, first-hand adventures in travel or education assumed a kind of greyed-out version of the expectations mentally constructed ahead of taking part. This daydreaming that naturally develops a high bar for upcoming adventures likely extends from excitement and anticipation for new and novel encounters with the world. It’s simply my mental processing of upcoming events. However high this process set the bar for my long-distance walk, the experience far exceeded the daydreams leading up to the event. The feeling of freedom obtained from every step taken; the excitement derived from turning each curve in the road; the wonder evoked from pristine landscapes; the unexpected successes achieved; and the kindness extended by those met along the way — all contributed to an experience impossible to have been outdone by an overactive mind.

It was suggested on several occasions that reflection on the walk be written as it was experienced. I would begin blogging daily over the second week of walking, contributing consistently throughout the provinces of Ontario and Québec. Eventually, however, posts would be uploaded more infrequently when internet access became less available. These spells of infrequency would endure 6, 8, and even 10 days duration where blog updates were impossible to make. My writing would be made daily, with notes accumulating to the point where numerous days of content would be posted upon gaining wifi access. While the blog project was ultimately finished, the cadence of reflection within the postings became more and more infrequent due to sporadic wifi vacuums as I moved into rural New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. The blog ultimately served as initial notes for future reference, written reflection intended for design artifacts inspired by the walk. Plans were made for the creation of a long-form text for inclusion into printed book format as well as online to Medium. It would be accompanied by a photo essay incorporating the imagery captured over the 2,580 km distance covered.

Day 71
The morning was peaceful and calming, quiet and slow. Tearing the tent down one last time felt significant. I would calmly walk into the 6:30 morning for coffee, spending an hour writing, uploading, and planning out some time in Sydney. While watching people move into the morning, I met Charlie at the North Sydney shopping mall as I waited for public transit. He was curious about my walk and said that he was proud of me for coming so far. He was interesting to chat with, talking in a smooth, relaxed tone. The bus ride from North Sydney into downtown — about 20 kilometres — took approximately 40 minutes, a distance it would take me over three hours to walk. It provided the opportunity to view the area along country roads hugging the edge of the water into town. I arrived at the hotel by noon, and as the room was ready I could check in immediately, unpack, and organize gear for cleaning. Broken and worn-out gear was discarded. Over the next four days, I would clean and dry out the tent and rainfly, inspecting them closely. I would book a flight to Toronto in between two-kilometre walks downtown to buy pizza, beer, and sushi as clothing soaked in anticipation for cleaning. A return flight to Toronto would be purchased by Wednesday, the final day of my hotel stay. It had taken 71 days to walk to this point. It would take only a few hours to fly the distance in reverse. I had completed something I had been dreaming about for most of my lifetime. I was looking forward to interrogating this challenge. Two and a half months of exploring the world would ultimately inspire the process of making lots of creative work.

Walking away from this

I’ve had several months to reflect upon the walk. It concluded neither in ecstatic joy nor in complete disappointment. As with most things, it revealed a complex set of emotions, more nuanced than I was expecting. In reflection, the most apt description is made through a series of both wins and losses, successes and failures. High and low emotions. Happiness and ecstasy alongside disappointment and frustration. An accurate summation of the hardships and suffering emerging throughout big and difficult challenges. That might be my most accurate description. I remember that final day, struggling over 50 km through the final section. I remember feeling the weight of complete and entire exhaustion. My feet were in very poor shape. And upon reaching town I don’t remember feeling relief or anything like that. Nor did I feel any kind of disappointment. It was a state of presence without judgement, a state of being without any acknowledgement of it. The following morning, I remember feeling a peaceful quiet, where everything surrounding me seemed to be moving slowly. That morning was probably the most peaceful of the entire walk. That morning I felt satisfaction that the walk was complete. It wasn’t the celebration I had initially planned for in St. John’s Newfoundland, but it was significant, all 2,580 km and the 71 days required to walk them. I wasn’t feeling what I thought I would, because this felt like something new. This is what I’ll remember moving forward because that unexpected peace still feels good.

Appendix

Accommodations
1 night — Kingston
3 nights — Montréal (2 day rest)
1 night — Québec City
1 night — Rivière-du-Loup
1 night — Témiscouata-sur-le-Lac
3 nights — Fredericton (2 day rest)
2 nights — Moncton (1 day rest)
4 nights — Charlottetown (3 day rest)
1 night — Inverness
3 nights — Sydney (3 day rest)
= 20 nights accommodation

Campgrounds
1 night — Saint-Jean-de-Port-Joli campground
1 night — Mkwesaqtuk / Cap-Rouge campground
1 night — Cape Breton Highlands National Park — MacIntosh Brook
= 3 nights campground

Instances Where Camping Was Refused
1 — Antigonish, Nova Scotia
In only one instance I was refused permission to camp. It was on a level site of grass behind a Canadian Tire store on the east edge of the town in Antigonish, Nova Scotia. I had received approval from the store manager. As I was setting up the tent the owner of the strip mall drove up and told me to pack up and move on because he didn’t want to attract any more “transients” to the spot. Of note: 51 of 52 nights I had gained approval from property owners for free camping.

Distance Walked
2,580.98 km

Duration of Project
74 days

Days Walking Eastward
63 days

Worn Out Gear
1 shirt
1 pant
3 pairs of shoes
1 pair of gloves
1 pair of trekking poles

Creative Material Produced
5082 photographs made
4 books designed
- Photo essay Book 1, 113 photographs, 94 pages, 7,864 words written
- Photo essay Book 2, 220 photographs, 174 pages, 10,591 words written
- Photo essay Book 3, 219 photographs, 163 pages, 12,333 words written
- Written essay Book 4, 8 photographs, 20 pages, 3,436 words written
1 blog written, 71 updates posted
2 notebooks filled with handwritten notes and sketches
4 maps drawn
1 Medium article posted (with edited text from Written essay Book 4)

See the full project here.

—

Jayson designs, draws, writes, and documents his world at jaysonzaleski.com. He can be reached at jaysonzaleski@me.com.

References

1. Forsthoefel, Andrew with Allison, Jay (Host). (2013, February 4). Walking Across America: Advice for a Young Man [Audio podcast episode]. In Transom. New Public Radio.
https://transom.org/2013/walking-across-america-advice-for-young-man/

2. Drachman, Benjamin with Drachman, Julia (Host). (2020, January 28). The Attempt [Audio podcast episode]. In Bad Cat Media. The Trek.
https://thetrek.co/pacific-crest-trail/introducing-attempt-podcast-episode-1-im-attempting-im-attempting/

3. Lammer, Aaron (Host). (2023, November 22). #559: Craig Mod [Audio podcast episode]. In Longform Podcast. Longform.org.
https://longform.org/posts/longform-podcast-558-craig-mod

4. Mod, Craig. Things Become Other Things. (Special Projects, Tokyo, 2023).

5. Mod, Craig. (2021, October 21). The Craft of “Kissa by Kissa” — Bookmaking in Japan. Youtube.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4u5_UyQoyw&t=13s

6. Zaleski, Jayson. (2023, May 23). In The Silver Hour.
https://www.jaysonzaleski.com/blog/page/24