Hiker Concedes to Trail in Pugwash
He came out of the woods in Pugwash. He was very tired, hurting, and would soon realize that he and his dream were also broken.
His name is Allan Prim, a 61-year-old retired oil rig cook from Saint John, NB. He was hiking the Trans Canada Trail to check off another box on his bucket list.
The idea had its genesis a year ago after seeing news about the trail. Through online research, he determined Nova Scotia offered the most beauty.
Unfortunately for Allan, he did not research the challenge and was unprepared for the reality. His first assumption proved to be his undoing.
Prim assumed the trail would be a well-groomed walking path. He knew much of the trek would be on a former railway bed, but he never dreamed that the only real change from the glory days was the removal of the rails and ties. The large, jagged, aggregate bed that supported the great trains would be a challenging surface, one that required appropriate footwear, a fact that escaped his planning.
Prim is the first to admit that he was not prepared for the walk. He had not trained in any way and he packed for a week’s excursion.
The trek began in Sackville, NB and took him first to Port Elgin. It was a tough walk but he was overjoyed to be underway.
Rain then introduced itself to the equation. A good waterproof jacket provided cover to his upper body, but his packs and their precious contents were soaked. So, too, were his shoes… yes, simple sneakers.
Rain Took His Money
He was driven to take shelter in a motel. Two nights later he was mostly dry, ready to re-start the challenge, but now pretty much out of cash. Not to worry, an auto deposit would replenish his bank account on Monday. His plan was to complete the journey in Pictou, make a bank withdrawal and take a bus back to Saint John.
Prim doubled back toward Amherst from Port Elgin. He was underway again, communing with nature and oblivious that he would face a repeat of weather adversity.
Rain once again dampened his spirits while dousing his gear. Now soaked and a burden of weight, he dumped his pack of clothing, sleeping bag, and other comforts, choosing to continue with a light backpack of essentials.
Sleeping at the side of the trail, under the stars, he soon realized the term “essentials” can be a moving target.
He passed Oxford, marvelling at the tunnel built specifically for the Trans Canada Trail, but his gait had changed. The wet sneakers were taking a toll on his tender feet. He soothed the small blisters in a trail-side culvert. He called it “black water” but it was cold and provided brief comfort.
Prim headed to Pugwash but doubts were now swirling in his mind. He wondered, “Is this too much? Can I make it to Pictou?” More than that, he began to question whether he could even get to Pugwash.
Nature Reared a Threatening Head
That’s when he saw them… black bears, three of them. Not all at once but one after another, each presenting a clear and present danger.
He was in the middle of nowhere. He worried a bear attack, alone in the woods, would certainly be the end of him.
He began to clap his hands and to sing. With each sighting, he made noise, lots of noise, and he raised his arms over his head in an effort to look bigger, more imposing.
Each time the bear disappeared in the tall grass along the trail. He tried to keep a visual marker so that he might prepare for a foraging bear near his path.
The three encounters passed, but adding a bear threat to the already worrisome experience began to take another toll.
And so it is, that a very tired, clearly pained hiker arrived in Pugwash. He left the trail on the west side of the village, walking over the bridge in anticipation of food, sleep, and a place to take off his shoes and tend his agonizing feet.
Who Can Help?
The imposing presence of the United Church seemed like a logical place to ask for help. He quickly learned that the church was currently without a minister and a lady suggested he go further up Church Street to Pastor Bill’s house.
That is how Allan Prim knocked on my door and asked, “Can I sit down for a little rest?”
Ironically, he arrived at the “Pugwash Hope Centre”, a facility yet to post a sign or be open to guests. Allan Prim came to a place destined to provide help but not for, perhaps, another six months.
Once at the door, there was no other logical or appropriate response to offer than, “Come on in.”
Two old men, each with their own bucket lists, compared notes over a sandwich. Allan asked, “Do you mind if I take off my shoes?”
The conversation continued until it was time for a pizza. That’s when the would-be trekker began to crash. We tried to find him a bed, a real bed in Wallace, putting him a little closer to his Pictou destination. In the end, there was no bed for Allan, only a couch at the not-yet-equipped Hope Centre, and the restful night would prove that a resumption of the hike was out of the question.
I Need a Plan “B”
At the breakfast table, Allan confessed that the could not take another step on the trail. The foot blisters were victorious and the hiker would have to revisit his bucket list at a later date. Allan said, “I can’t go to Pictou, I need a new plan.”
This was Saturday morning. Waiting for a bank deposit in Pictou on Monday was out of the question. It was clear that Allan simply needed to get home to Saint John. One phone call later, we booked a ticket on a bus that would take him from Oxford to Saint John. He would be home by afternoon, home to some comfort, home to some attention to his blistered feet and perhaps a little to his blistered plan.
We were grateful that his ambitious excursion brought us together. He was grateful for the help that moderated his pain and supported his courage. Undaunted, the man from Saint John promised he would return to complete the journey, not the whole trek, just the remaining portion from Pugwash to Pictou.
Who knows, maybe I should join him. If you must confront a bear on the Trans Canada Trail, wouldn’t it make more sense to outnumber a black bear with “two” old men?
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