Trip 45 — Prince Edward Island Walk

Day 11: Miscouche to Kensington
Friday, 8 August 2025

Today: 27673 steps/19.56 km/12.15 mi/3h 36m
Total: 533924 steps/374.16 km/232.49 mi/70h 16m

From my room at the Prince County Guest House, I could see the fields behind the town, the convenience store next door, and the first fully signaled intersection I'd encountered since Summerside, more than a week earlier.

The owners liked antiques. There were clocks, a floor globe, and the kinds of chairs typically roped off in museums. I saw only the modern Yamaha piano last night, but they also had an organ and a Cumberland player piano — including a cabinet of rolls.

The Yamaha was in better condition, though. I played Beethoven and Mozart for a couple visiting from Quebec. That apparently gave them license to make requests.

"Can you play 'Moonlight'?"

I played as much as I remembered of the slow opening of the Beethoven sonata.

"Can you play a Chopin nocturne?"

I gave them part of a prelude instead.

"Can you play the Schubert serenade?"

"I'm afraid I don't know that one."

I lingered longer than I meant to, and I realized I'd better get moving if I wanted to have lunch at the SeaShell Cafe. It was the only place ideally located along today's segment, two-thirds of the way through; I like to get at least halfway done before stopping. I didn't bother with sunscreen or bug spray: It seemed too late for mosquitoes to be out, and I didn't want to reunite with Liz covered in chemicals. No, she was going to get the full experience of hugging someone who had just walked 19 kilometers.

I set out along Route 2 — more a waddle to begin, and then I eased into walking. With more time, I would have learned more about the French settlers at the Acadian Museum.

Instead I proceeded for the most unpleasant two and a half hours of road I've covered in a long time. Route 2 is the island's primary east-west highway, and it's plied by huge trucks, garbage trucks (today must be the day in Summerside), pickup trucks, and cars, many of whom apparently think the speed-limit numbers of 70, 80, and 90 refer to miles per hour. The noise was constant, the only reprieve being around the traffic lights.

The paved shoulder sloped and was often narrow, and many drivers breached the limit of their lane. Beyond the paved shoulder was a grassy shoulder, which was generally walkable but often rocky and thin.

The highway was lined with homes and businesses. Once I passed the Summerside airport (no commercial service since 2009), there were antique stores, agriculture plants, a musical-instrument shop, a large produce market, a giant Maritime Electric installation, cars for sale (the places in Summerside would have been too much of a schlep), and houses. I couldn't imagine living so close to a major highway.

It was hotter than yesterday, and the noise in particular made the walk frustrating. I've usually taken a rest day after a 60-kilometer segment. This time I hadn't, and even the relatively short distance was wearying my feet.

The SeaShell Cafe was primarily a breakfast place and would close at 1:30, an irritating time common on the island (the eatery in Central Bedeque was the same). It implied, "We'll grudgingly give you lunch, but you'd better get there early." I didn't know whether it meant the last orders were at that time or they wanted to get everyone out by then.

The sign on the door said "Kitchen hours" with a stop time at 1:30, and that seemed clear to me.

"Is it too late for a meal?" I asked at 1:18.

"Unfortunately, yes," was the answer. "We close at one-thirty, so we're wrapping up back there."

I decided not to explain what kitchen hours were.

"Enjoy your long afternoon," I said, a little surlier than I meant to.

I returned to the highway and its roar of trucks for two more kilometers before finally turning left onto the Confederation Trail. Here the noisiest vehicles were the bicycles, the only constant my feet. The bugs were not a problem today.

The trail wound through the forest and then brought me into Kensington, past the massive Kensington Grain Elevator — a main building and six enormous steel storage tanks. Route 2 was on my right, parallel to the trail, and a side road on my left.

I approached the door of Ruby's Counter to see a handwritten note saying "Kitchen closing at 1pm today" — foiled again. But Kensington would have a few more options, just a few minutes ahead.

I entered the Family and Friends (I keep getting it backwards in my head) restaurant as its only patron at 2:45, but people came in after that. A salad of fruit and feta was welcome, followed by a daily special of pork loin in a sweet maple-mustard sauce.

Other people started coming in. I didn't know it, but this was the beginning of the dinner rush. When Liz and I came back at six, the place was almost full and the kitchen couldn't accommodate us for an hour. The situation was similar over at the old train station, which has been turned into a pub and restaurant. But eventually we feasted on a brownie sundae at the first place and haddock at the second — the only way to get food according to the eateries' output capabilities — and found Canadian wine to bring back to the Rosebriar Room at the Victoria Inn.

And tomorrow, we walk.

Go on to day 12