I write this post in a legenday Bruce Mines, ON, institution: Bobbers Restaurant, which makes an unbelievable coconut cream pie (order the coconut crust). While sitting in this busy restaurant, I encounter many people from Toronto who are in a rush to get home for Monday, I guess. In comparison, I cannot rush, since rushing really doesn’t get me much further compared to my normal walking pace.
While walking along the quiet backroads, bridges, and odd trail, I feel as if there is an interesting event that occurs around every bend of the road. These are events that I would otherwise never be exposed to while working and daily living, or travelling in a car or on a bike. Although I am walking slowly, I have already experienced so much. These experiences have resulted in great personal growth, where I have realized that much of my life in the last decade was me rushing towards a goal: obtaining a degree; writting a thesis; getting a job; completing tasks at work, and just about every sport. The rush I speak of is not one of efficiency, but an inefficient, nonsensical type of rushing. Not sure why I am always rushing, but this rushing resulted in an enormously frustrating time when life — as it always does, isn’t ready to work with your schedule.
The last few days have been filled with meeting some great people, doing some interesting tasks, and even some hilarious events. I am starting to realize some noticeable changes in the way I think and act while undertaking this walk, which is great. Some of these changes have begun to open doors that would otherwise be closed.
The most memorable event was meeting Patricia and Dorian in Little Rapids, who I got along with quite well. I probably talked both of their ears off, and had some really good conversations. Eventhough they are in their 60’s, they are young souls, which is probably due in part to not having a vehicle; forcing them to be active. They have no T.V, and the daily routine they follow doesn’t involve sitting infront of the T.V., ever.
I met Patricia at the General Store, which is the quientisential General Store, complete with cheese, meats, canned goods, etc. She asked if that cart was mine and I nodded my head, and she told me she has met many travellers that pass through Little Rapids, such as a lady who is following the monarch butterfly movement from Mexico to Canada. We chatted for a minute or two, which ended in her buying me a freezie and inviting me to her house up the road to hang out with her and her husband. I agreed, and glad I did; I stayed the night and slept soundly.
I forget to take pictures sometimes, but the few I took are below:
Mennonites building a barn (above)
Horse and carriage I observed along the road while walking (above).
Mennonite sawmill (above).
The unique and old general store in Little Rapids (above).
Dorian and Patricia’s house in Little Rapids (above).
Dorian showing me the tree house he built (above).