Last night, Christine and I walked to a nearby movie theatre, where we saw The Railway Man. It’s a good film about revenge and forgiveness, which is almost unbelievably based on a true story. The walk wasn’t a long one–maybe 6 kilometres there and back–but I was wearing new shoes that threw off my stride just enough that I woke up this morning with a strained hamstring in my left leg. That made our training walk today rather painful for the first couple of hours, and I was careful to stretch whenever I paused to let Christine catch up with me since, for some reason, we weren’t walking at the same speed, as we usually are. Eventually the problem resolved itself. Today’s walk was a little over 18 kilometres, which isn’t all that long–I’ve walked twice that far in a day. I was carrying a full pack for the first time, though, and it’s been unusually humid here, so I’m ready for a cold beer now.
There were a lot of people on the creekside path: cycling, running, and inline skating. There weren’t many walkers, though, and we were the only people who looked like they were out for a hike. A young woman stopped us and asked what we were training for. “The Cotswold Way, in England,” I said. We explained that it’s a 100 mile walk and we’re doing it over nine days at the beginning of August. “That’s really interesting,” she answered. “I love hiking but all my friends here think I’m crazy.” That’s the response I got from a lot of people when they learned that I had walked the Camino Francés. “Are you crazy?” I think it’s something about this city, about the flat topography and the fact that, for most people, hiking is something that you do in the mountains, which are a long way from here.
My friend Geoff, who lives in Victoria, British Columbia, has had very different responses from people who have learned that he’s walked the Camino. In fact, a store that sells hiking equipment asked him to come and give a couple of talks about his experiences. Hiking is part of the culture in Victoria, in a way it isn’t here. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been quietly suggesting that when we retire, we should be moving to the west coat instead of back to Ontario. Geoff has sent me pictures from the hikes he took while training for his second Camino (he just finished walking the Via de la Plata route from Seville to Santiago), and it’s beautiful there. Moreover, while the rest of the country is still experiencing snow and frigid temperatures, they’re enjoying spring flowers and warm weather. There’s no question which I’m going to prefer 15 years from now. (By the way, Geoff’s blog about his experiences walking both Caminos is available here.)
Speaking of flowers, I was surprised by the number of native plants I saw beside the creek today: Canada anemones and milk vetches and wild roses. There are, unfortunately, almost no native plants left on “Prairie Island,” where a prairie restoration project has turned into a patch of weeds. Only the wild roses and the wild blue flax are left. As I’ve learned, it’s almost impossible to restore land to prairie, particularly in a city: the weeds are just too aggressive. It makes protecting the remnant grasslands in this province even more important.
There’s an interview with naturalist Trevor Herriot about his new book, The Road Is How, here, in today’s Globe and Mail. I read The Road Is How this spring and it’s one of the books I wanted to talk about in this blog. Trevor has been an advocate for continued public ownership of community pastures in this province, since they represent one of the most important areas of unplowed prairie left here. I hope that campaign is successful; it would be a tremendous shame if they are lost.