Trip 45 — Prince Edward Island Walk
Prologue
Sunday, 26 July 2025
Prince Edward Island — the current English name of the sickle-shaped land called Epekwitk by the Mi'kmaq people — was claimed by the French in 1604 before being ceded to Britain in 1758 and earning its present moniker in 1798.
When Canada was formed in 1867, PEI was hesitant to join, preferring to remain a British colony and briefly considering becoming part of the United States. But when financing trouble threatened the progress of the Prince Edward Island Railway, Canada's first prime minister, Sir John A. Macdonald, brought PEI into Canada in 1873 and the country took over the project.
The last passenger train departed in 1968. Three quarters of the line became the Confederation Trail, much of which is now also part of the Island Walk, a 700-kilometer route opened in 2021. The walk's 32 sections make a general loop around PEI, but they cut off a few of its extremities. My route will stay closer to the perimeter, hitting some of the additional bulges and peninsulas and making PEI by far the longest distance in the Abecedarian Walks.
PEI has charming towns, wonderful seafood, historic lighthouses, sparkling bays, and even a potato museum, plus stretches of solitude. The Island Walk can — barely — be done without the occasional ride to and from the trail, due to a recent increase in lodging. I'll have a few very long days, however, with several segments over 50 kilometers.
I'm fortunate to be doing the walk as a human in the summer of 2025. If I'd been a horse a century ago, I might have spent Christmas Eve hauling lumber from Enmore to Portage in a blustery snowfall so thick that I couldn't see the shore road. Such is one of the scenes in "The View From Enmore Road," Dori MacLean's collection of tales from her childhood on a farm in western PEI.
Life wouldn't have been much easier as a human. As a woman I'd have had children to tame and wash, clothing to knit and mend, cows to milk, and people to feed, and the wood stove would be running continuously — in winter for heat and all year for cooking. As a man I'd have had animals to look after, crops to plant and harvest, and stables to clean. I'd likely use money only seldomly. If I needed quick assistance from a neighbor, I'd be almost certain to get it, and I'd try to reward the favor with a secret stash of booze.
As a child I might be eager to take on responsibilities, perhaps being sent out into the dusk to listen for cowbells and bring the animals home. Some of the chores would be mundane, such as hanging clothing to dry or churning butter. But some work would be fun: rounding up sheep for shearing, collecting quahogs (hard clams), or learning to drive the horses.
The first of Dori's stories gave me pause. Following an afternoon gathering marsh hay, Tom Frost walks home along the forest path. He sees a figure approaching him, and since he knows all his neighbors, he doesn't understand why his greeting isn't reciprocated. It's not until they almost meet that Tom realizes he's been walking toward a black bear.
Relieved (though saddened) to learn that PEI's last black bear was killed in 1927, I could turn my attention to other challenges. The most important, with so many long distances, was to lessen my load as much as possible. Every milligram counted. How few bandages could I bring for blisters? Which tube of toothpaste weighs less, the one marked 75 milliliters or the one marked 70 grams? Fortunately PEI will have plenty of food at this time of year, I won't require any power adapters, and I've arranged an itinerary where the "magic number" — the largest number of days between laundry stations — is only 4.
Tomorrow's short layover is in Montreal, hopefully after a more timely arrival than today's 10:15 departure from LaGuardia, which was almost an hour late. It seems to have been a tricky year for planes. But once I land in the PEI capital, I won't enter a vehicle for four weeks, and moving around doesn't get any more reliable than that.
Go on to day 1
