Unexpected Challenges: Navigating Online Expectations

When Sharing Our Trans Canada Trail Journey Began to Influence What We Published

 
When we first began preparing for our #Hike4Birds expedition across Canada, we knew that walking thousands of kilometres along the Trans Canada Trail would involve considerable physical, financial, and logistical challenges. What we had not anticipated was how difficult it could sometimes become to navigate the expectations of people following our journey online.

 
Indeed, even before setting out from Cape Spear in 2019, we discovered that we did not necessarily fit the image some people had of what long-distance hikers, photographers, or outdoor adventurers should look like. As we approached organizations about potential sponsorship, we encountered questions about our appearance, equipment, experience, and relatively modest social media following.  The general view being that we apparently lacked some of the characteristics that others associated with people undertaking a major outdoor expedition.
 
For this reason, we remain particularly grateful to Briden Solutions, the Royal Canadian Geographical Society, and the people associated with the Great Trail in our first year who offered encouragement and practical assistance during those early years. Their willingness to support our undertaking meant a great deal to us.
 
As our journey progressed, however, we gradually discovered that inviting people to follow an expedition could also create expectations about how it should be undertaken.  One of our earliest experiences occurred after completing the Newfoundland and Nova Scotia portions of the trail. Having spent months hiking across two provinces, we went out for a drink to celebrate our progress. This involved enjoying a beer or two, hardly an extraordinary activity after spending so much time walking.  Yet when we mentioned this ordinary celebration online, several people contacted us demanding that their donations be refunded. Apparently, they had not supported our expedition so that we could, as one person suggested, “drink our way across Canada.”  In the end, we returned almost $1,000 in donations – which was a staggering sum amid our first year of hiking.

 
Not long afterward, Hurricane Dorian approached Nova Scotia, forcing us to reconsider our plans and seek appropriate shelter. Ultimately, we chose to stay in a hotel rather than remain outside during dangerous weather conditions. From our perspective, this was simply a responsible decision. Nevertheless, our choice prompted another round of criticism from people who believed that staying in hotels was somehow inconsistent with undertaking a long-distance hiking expedition. We received additional requests for refunds, and one sponsor withdrew support.

 
These experiences were surprising, not least because staying indoors occasionally was an ordinary and necessary part of our journey. We needed opportunities to wash our clothing, recharge cameras and electronic equipment, organize photographs, and complete the writing and administrative work associated with #Hike4Birds. Publishing journals, maintaining our website, and giving online presentations required reliable internet access and electricity, neither of which could always be obtained over a cup of coffee in a local café.
 
In addition, sometimes we also simply needed a break.  Over 556 hiking days between the Atlantic and Pacific, it was neither practical nor particularly appealing to imagine that every night would be spent camping. We were undertaking a long-distance expedition, but we were also providing constant content, teaching classrooms and giving presentations along the way, with all the practical needs that involved.

 
Nor were overnight accommodations the only decisions that occasionally attracted criticism. Getting on and off the Trans Canada Trail at the beginning and end of each hiking season required considerable planning, particularly when we were hundreds of kilometres from major transportation connections. Yet even our movements away from the trail sometimes became subjects of speculation.  On one occasion, someone recognized us travelling by train to visit family at Christmas, more than a month after we had stopped hiking for the season. In another year, someone saw us aboard an airplane. In both cases, assumptions were made about our expedition despite the fact that these journeys had nothing to do with the kilometres we were hiking on the Trans Canada Trail.  What became increasingly apparent was that some people had developed their own understanding of how our expedition and our lives off trail should be conducted. There seemed to be an expectation that walking across Canada involved remaining outdoors, camping every night, avoiding ordinary needs, and travelling exclusively on foot regardless of whether we were actually hiking the trail at that time of the year.
 
Others appeared to have expectations about how Canada itself should be represented. When we described difficult conditions, unpleasant experiences, or disappointing sections of the route, we sometimes encountered objections from readers who preferred a more uniformly positive account of particular communities or regions.  Yet our intention had always been to document the places and experiences we encountered, including their natural history, landscapes, communities, and practical realities. We loved exploring Canada, but that did not mean that every trail was beautiful, every day was enjoyable, or every experience was something we wished to repeat.  To believe that 4 years of hiking across a continent would be entirely positive is simply not realistic.

 
Perhaps the most unexpected consequence of these early encounters was that we gradually became more cautious about what we chose to publish. After only two provinces, we were already discovering that even the most ordinary activities could provoke criticism when they conflicted with someone's expectations of what a long-distance expedition should involve.  Over the following years, those pressures would continue to influence our relationship with documenting and sharing the journey.
 
There were many positive interactions, generous supporters, and encouraging messages, but the occasional demands and accusations could be disproportionately exhausting, particularly when we were already managing the physical and logistical requirements of walking across the country.  Looking back, I think one of the greatest surprises was discovering how easily sharing our experiences could be interpreted as inviting others to determine how we should live them.
 
We had welcomed people to follow our journey, ask questions, learn about Canada's natural history, and perhaps become interested in exploring the country themselves. We had never imagined that this invitation would extend to having to justify a beer after months of walking, explain why we sought shelter during a hurricane, or defend travelling home to visit family after our hiking season had ended.
After all, we had set out to walk across Canada, not to demonstrate that two people could spend months at a time on a trail occasionally enjoying a comfortable bed, a hot shower, or a cold beer.

Live and learn - despite the unexpected challenges en route and the need to navigate online expectations, we have no regrets for how our #HIke4Birds has progressed so far.  Thank you all!
 
See you on the Trail!