Were We Ever Afraid on the Trans Canada Trail?

Reflections on Risk, Preparation, and the Unexpected after 14,000 km of Walking Across Canada
 

The Dangers We Imagined

 
Some of the typical questions we are often asked by reporters and get emailed repeatedly are – Were you ever afraid out there, in the wilderness, and all alone on the Trans Canada Trail?  Is it safe to walk across Canada?  What are the scariest moments you have had on the TCT?

 

Well, to be honest, we have been pretty fortunate over the past 4 years and 556 days of hiking from the Atlantic to the Pacific. With that said, when we first began thinking about hiking across the country on the Trans Canada Trail, we spent considerable time considering the possible risks of travelling thousands of kilometres on foot.  These assessments were tempered by our previous experiences on the Bruce Trail, the East Coast Trail, as well as both the Camino Francés and Camino Portuguese.  Along which we had some experience in dealing with challenging terrain, frustrating weather and the ordinary physical demands of spending extended periods outdoors. We were also both fortunate to have had experiences as field researchers in Algonquin Provincial Park and had experience dealing with black bears, moose and other wildlife.  Nevertheless, the prospect of crossing an entire continent, travelling through unfamiliar regions, and spending months and years away from the comforts and conveniences of home required a different level of preparation.

 
As such, like many people thinking about going on a long-distance hike, we initially focused much of our attention on the dangers associated with wilderness travel.  We took wilderness preparation and first aid courses, and we researched how to deal with unexpected wildlife encounters. We emailed the few Trans Canada Trail thru-hikers that had completed or were in the midst of hiking the trail for advice and considered what equipment we might need.  We also researched how conditions might change as we moved between provinces and seasons. Black bears, grizzly bears, wolves, moose, and other large animals were among the obvious concerns, particularly when thinking about the forests of Newfoundland, Northern Ontario, the Rocky Mountains, British Columbia and Northern Canada.
 
Alternatively, we also considered the potential consequences of encountering severe weather, becoming injured, or discovering that a planned trail was too dangerous to continue along or simply impassable. To this end, attempting to prepare for an emergency in a remote area was among our largest concerns.  This fear was heightened when an older couple set off 6 months before us only to leave the T’Railway Trail early on and walk the Trans Canada Highway rather than continue on the TCT to Port aux Basques. Seeing their periodic online journal posting come up about rough conditions and isolated communities – from the safety of our desks – was more than a little unnerving. Later they emailed us warnings repeatedly telling us not to attempt the T’Railway and to possibly start in Halifax – which were comments that scared us to our core.  It was only in hindsight - years later - watching them repeatedly abandon beautiful sections, get rides from friends in Quebec and eventually motorcycle across northern Ontario and much of the three prairie provinces rather than hike that we came to see that this was simply their preferred method of travel and that trekking was not for them.  They would subsequently go on to taxi their way across the Camino Frances and quit the GR10 after a few days.  Each to their own, everyone hikes their own hike, and it was our fault for allowing their fears and their approach to initially influence ours.

With that said, and returning to the matter at hand - as naturalists and experienced hikers, we understood that sharing the landscape with wildlife required preparation and respect rather than fear.  Hanging your food, keeping snacks sealed, having scented supplies (toothpaste, deodorant, etc.) secured, using bear barrels, cooking away from the tent, and maintaining a clean campsite were all key aspects of navigating wildlife realities. In addition, one needs to remain alert to animal activity and understand how to respond to encounters with different species. We also recognized that wildlife and environmental conditions would change as we travelled across the country, requiring us to adapt our practices accordingly.
 
As we planned, it was wildlife and the possibility of injury in remote areas that we focused on.  Ultimately, however, and what we could not have known, was how often our most serious concerns would arise in places far removed from wilderness sections or remote areas that we had spent so much time preparing for.   Years later, having completed the Atlantic-to-Pacific portion of our walk, we can honestly say that we rarely spent our days feeling frightened. The vast majority of our experiences on the Trans Canada Trail were completely ordinary (aside from the walking across the country bit), and the overwhelming majority of people we encountered were helpful, curious, welcoming, and kind.  Even beyond them, most others were simply indifferent to two people walking through their communities with backpacks and cameras. Canada is kind of amazing like that.   As a result, generally speaking, we enjoyed remarkable wildlife encounters, travelled through beautiful landscapes, and benefited from countless acts of generosity that made our journey possible.

 
However, we would also admit – and not to scare anyone off the idea – that over 6 years there were definitely occasions when we were genuinely afraid, and some of the most unsettling situations were not those we had anticipated when first examining the route across Canada.  Perhaps the most important lesson was discovering that the greatest dangers on a long-distance walk are not necessarily the ones that attract the most attention.
 

Wildlife, Wilderness, and Being Prepared

 
Before beginning our #Hike4Birds, we were frequently reminded that walking across Canada would bring us into contact with potentially dangerous wildlife. Bears were a particularly common concern, followed by wolves, moose, and the other large mammals associated with Canada's forests and mountains. Although these animals certainly deserve respect, our experience was that wildlife encounters were relatively uncommon when considered against the enormous amount of time we spent travelling outdoors.

 
Throughout Newfoundland, we walked through forests, bogs, and remote stretches of the
T'Railway Trail, while observing wildlife and looking for birds along the way. In Ontario, the Canadian Shield and boreal forests introduced different environments and new considerations, particularly where the trail travelled through less populated regions. Later, in Alberta and British Columbia, we encountered landscapes inhabited by both black bears and grizzlies, requiring us to remain attentive to food storage, campsite selection, and the possibility of encountering animals along narrow trails or in areas with limited visibility.
 
Our approach was not to assume that dangerous encounters would never occur, but to reduce the likelihood of creating unnecessary problems. We tried to remain aware of our surroundings, take appropriate precautions with food and other supplies, and respect the animals whose habitats we were passing through. We also understood that a wildlife encounter could change rapidly, regardless of how much experience we had or how carefully we had prepared.  Nevertheless, most of the wildlife we observed wanted little to do with us. Some animals disappeared into the forest long before we approached, while others continued feeding, resting, or moving through the landscape without any obvious interest in our presence. For a naturalist undertaking a birding expedition, these encounters were generally among the highlights of the journey rather than the experiences that made us most concerned about our safety.

 
With that said, it needs to be remembered that the fact that we experienced relatively few threatening wildlife encounters does not mean that such encounters cannot happen, nor does it suggest that hikers should become complacent.  Understanding animal behaviour, following local guidance, and preparing for the environments being visited remain essential parts of responsible outdoor travel. 
 

The Highway Was Often More Frightening Than the Forest

 
Truth be told, we often found ourselves far more worried about travelling along busy roadways than walking through forests inhabited by large animals.  One of the most surprising realities of walking across Canada was discovering how much of the Trans Canada Trail followed roadways rather than dedicated footpaths. Before setting out, we knew that the national network included urban streets, rural roads, and highway connections, but understanding this in theory was rather different from spending hours walking beside fast-moving vehicles while carrying heavy equipment.

 
In particular, those stretches of the TCT that placed us uncomfortably close to vehicles travelling at highway speeds, sometimes along routes with narrow shoulders, limited visibility, or little opportunity to move farther away from traffic.  These experiences were especially challenging because we had relatively little control over the behaviour of other road users. We could wear visible clothing, remain attentive, and choose to avoid particularly dangerous conditions when alternatives existed, but none of these precautions could prevent a distracted or reckless driver from creating a dangerous situation.
 
One of the most frightening examples occurred in fourth year, while following the Trans Canada Trail from Irricana toward Airdrie in Alberta. Earlier that morning, another camper had warned us that the roadway ahead was dangerous, having looked into the route and concluded that it would be unpleasant even for someone travelling by bicycle or car. Nevertheless, we initially continued along the designated route, hoping that conditions might prove more manageable than anticipated.  Instead, we found ourselves beside a busy highway where cars, trucks, motorcycles, and recreational vehicles travelled at extraordinary speeds. During the hours we spent attempting to follow the route, we watched unsecured equipment fall from passing vehicles, witnessed dangerous overtaking manoeuvres, and experienced several encounters in which vehicles came frighteningly close to us. At one point, a truck overtaking another vehicle passed so near that its mirror missed us by inches.

 
The experience forced us to reconsider the relationship between completing a designated route and making responsible decisions about our safety. We wanted to walk the Trans Canada Trail, but we had no desire to risk our lives simply because a particular roadway appeared on the official map.  We came to see that not every section of the national pathway was equally suitable for walkers, and the fact that a route was identified as part of the Trans Canada Trail did not automatically mean that it provided a safe or enjoyable pedestrian experience.
 
For anyone considering walking substantial portions of the trail, understanding the nature of the route is therefore essential. A paved recreational pathway through a municipal park presents very different risks from a rural highway connection, while a remote mountain footpath requires different preparations again.  To speak of the Trans Canada Trail as though it were a single, uniform environment is to overlook one of its most important characteristics.
 

Weather Does Not Care About Our Plans

 
If traffic presented some of our most immediate concerns, weather provided another source of uncertainty that followed us across the country.  While training for the TCT, we set off to hike a section of it in Newfoundland – the East Coast Trail.  Here we experienced unexpected snow and difficult conditions, including an early encounter with severe weather around Bauline (our first day on the national pathway) that reminded us how quickly coastal conditions could change. Later, in Nova Scotia, the approach and landfall of Hurricane Dorian affected our plans and required us to consider where we could safely travel and find shelter. As autumn progressed, colder temperatures, shorter days, and winter weather complicated our efforts to continue through New Brunswick and across Quebec.

 
The following years brought their own challenges. In Ontario, thunderstorms and periods of extreme heat influenced our progress, while the prairie provinces exposed us to prolonged summer temperatures that made access to water and shade increasingly important. In Alberta and British Columbia, mountain weather, wildfire smoke, and the approach of winter introduced additional considerations.  One particularly memorable experience occurred while climbing Cox Hill in Alberta's Kananaskis Country. What began as a manageable mountain hike changed as thunder began sounding around us and hail started falling. For approximately twenty-five minutes, we were pelted by hail before the storm developed into a downpour, leaving the trail increasingly muddy and difficult to negotiate. As we continued climbing, temperatures dropped, winds increased, and exposed sections of the route became considerably more intimidating.

 
In British Columbia, the consequences of severe weather extended beyond immediate conditions. Flooding and landslides had destroyed sections of the Kettle Valley Rail Trail between Princeton and Hope, leaving the official trail closed and forcing us to reconsider how we could safely continue toward the Pacific. Local hikers and trail builders provided information about damaged bridges, washed-out pathways, and dangerous alternatives, while additional storms threatened a region whose communities were still recovering from the previous year's destruction.  These were situations in which the greatest danger was not necessarily the weather or conditions that we were experiencing at that moment, but the uncertainty surrounding what conditions might become – as a result, we had to be willing to reconsider our plans as the mapped route of the TCT was broken ahead of us.
 

The People We Met Along the Way

 
Beyond concerns about wildlife, people sometimes wonder whether we ever felt threatened by other people while travelling along the Trans Canada Trail. To be honest, for the overwhelming majority of our journey, the answer is no.  Across ten provinces, we encountered people who offered directions, shared information about local trails, provided water or meals, gave us a place to sleep, helped us with logistical difficulties, or simply stopped to ask about our project. Others joined us for short walks, invited us to speak with local organizations, or offered encouragement as we continued westward.
 
With that said, there were certainly occasions when people were suspicious or openly critical of our undertaking, but these were relatively uncommon when considered against the thousands of interactions that took place throughout the journey. Nevertheless, there were some troubling experiences that made us more cautious.

 
Some encounters were simply strange. On one occasion, a man who struck up a conversation with us in a Tim Hortons invited us back to his home to see his collection of homemade knives, which – as he told us, he kept in his basement. Needless to say, we politely declined. Other situations were considerably less amusing. In one community, we were harassed by teenagers riding motorbikes who insisted that their parents owned the trail and that hikers were not welcome. When we subsequently wrote about the incident, we discovered that we had become caught up in regional tensions between trail users and ATV users. 
 
Elsewhere, we walked into a community where hateful and racist posters had been placed throughout the area. Rather than simply continuing along the trail, we spent much of the day removing them. It was a disturbing reminder that the communities we passed through were not always as welcoming to everyone as they had generally been to us.
 
In Quebec City, an altercation involving Sean, his camera equipment, and a police officer was distressing. During an encounter outside a bakery, the officer repeatedly demanded that Sean's camera be surrendered to him - which at the time was locked and attached to his backpack. The confrontation escalated, and the camera was damaged when it was forcibly pulled from its mounting by the officer. 
 
Later in Ontario, we had another encounter with an officer who questioned our presence, demanded identification and financial information, and required us to unpack our belongings for inspection. Sean's cameras and electronic equipment attracted particular attention, with the officer questioning whether the items had been stolen. What might have been a straightforward conversation about our journey instead became an unnecessarily prolonged and uncomfortable experience.
 
There were also occasions when unwanted attention continued well beyond a single encounter. In one remote region, a man began following us in his truck, repeatedly appearing along our route over several days. Eventually, he began stopping to speak with us, telling me that he hoped I would move into the house next door so that we could become best friends. He also made it clear that Sean was not welcome in this imagined arrangement. While his intentions remained uncertain, being on foot in an isolated area, with someone repeatedly tracking our movements, became (understandably) unnerving.
 
Several weeks later, we experienced a much more serious incident when two ATVs raced up and struck us while we were walking. The incident was frightening enough in itself, but what followed was almost as troubling. For months afterward, we received online threats and intimidation, eventually prompting us to reconsider how and when we shared details of our progress. Alongside these experiences were occasional hostile comments, accusations, and implied threats that, while less immediately dangerous, could still leave us uneasy about the attention our journey attracted.
 
Given these incidents, we became increasingly conscious that sharing our journey publicly introduced a different kind of vulnerability. Our daily journals, photographs, and social media updates allowed people to follow our progress, but they also made it possible for others to determine approximately where we were travelling. At one point, following several threatening messages and troubling encounters, we occasionally delayed publishing updates from particular regions to avoid revealing our precise location in real time. This was not a decision we made lightly, particularly because documenting and sharing the journey was central to#Hike4Birds, but it seemed a reasonable precaution under the circumstances.

 
Now these incidents may sound extreme - and often they were unnerving at the time - but they were also clearly the exception to our journey. The vast majority of people we met and had conversations with were kind, supportive, and encouraging. In fact, interestingly, many of the most unpleasant comments and accusations we received came over social media and from people who were nowhere near us. Hostile emails, online criticism, and threatening messages often created more anxiety than tough days or experiences along the trail itself. As such, though tiring, these experiences did not cause us to abandon our faith in the people we met, but they did remind us that travelling publicly, particularly over an extended period, requires a degree of discretion.
 

Recognizing Our Own Advantages

 
Any reflection on whether we felt safe walking across Canada also requires us to acknowledge that our experiences were shaped by who we are. We travelled together, which provided companionship, practical assistance, and a degree of reassurance that someone walking alone might not experience. Having another person present meant that we could share decisions, respond to unexpected challenges, and look out for each other when circumstances became difficult.
 
We were also experienced hikers who had spent years travelling through unfamiliar regions. Although this did not prevent us from making mistakes or encountering dangerous situations, it provided skills and knowledge that helped us recognize potential problems and adapt our plans.

 
There is another advantage that is more uncomfortable to acknowledge, but no less important.  We are white Canadians, and we recognize that this likely influenced how we were perceived and treated in many of the communities we travelled through. Although we experienced occasional hostility, suspicion, and troubling encounters, we cannot assume that someone of a different racial background, cultural identity, gender, or travelling circumstance would necessarily have been treated in the same way.  That is a sad but realistic aspect of many places in this world as well as Canada.
 
Indeed, during our travels we encountered attitudes and prejudices that reminded us how differently people can experience the same places. Our own sense of safety, therefore, cannot be taken as evidence that the Trans Canada Trail offers an identical experience to everyone who follows it.  Recognizing these advantages does not diminish the challenges we faced, but it is essential to understanding the limitations of our perspective.  We can describe what happened to us, explain how we responded, and share what we learned. We cannot speak for every person who might undertake a similar journey.
 

Is the Trans Canada Trail Safe?

 
After spending 556 days walking approximately 14,000 kilometres across Canada, we believe that the Trans Canada Trail is overwhelmingly a safe and rewarding way to explore the country, provided that people approach it with appropriate preparation, realistic expectations, and an understanding of the environments through which it passes.

 
However, there is no universal answer to the question of whether the entire trail is safe – it is massive after all.  The Trans Canada Trail is not a single, continuous wilderness footpath with consistent standards of construction, maintenance, signage, or accessibility. It is a vast network of recreational pathways, former railway corridors, urban routes, rural roads, highways, and waterways that cross a remarkable variety of landscapes and communities.  A well-maintained urban pathway presents different challenges from a remote mountain trail, just as a quiet rail trail differs considerably from a highway connection. Weather, season, trail conditions, available services, personal experience, and individual circumstances can all influence the level of risk associated with a particular section.
 
Something that is safe and straightforward for an experienced cyclist may not be appropriate for a long-distance walker carrying camping equipment. Likewise, a route that is manageable during favourable summer conditions may become dangerous or inaccessible during winter, extreme heat, flooding, or wildfire activity.  For these reasons, we would encourage anyone planning to explore the Trans Canada Trail to research the specific sections they intend to travel rather than relying on the assumption that a nationally designated route will provide consistent conditions throughout its length.  Understanding the route, preparing for local wildlife and weather, carrying suitable equipment, and remaining willing to change plans are all important aspects of travelling responsibly.

 
Perhaps most importantly, we would suggest recognizing that safety is not something established once at the beginning of a journey. It requires attention and judgment throughout the experience, particularly when circumstances change unexpectedly.
 

Were We Ever Afraid to Hike the Trans Canada Trail?

 
Looking back on our journey from Cape Spear to Clover Point, there were certainly moments when we were unnerved. We have had experiences amid dangerous traffic, severe weather, difficult trail conditions, unsettling encounters with other people, and occasions when our own exhaustion complicated decisions that might otherwise have seemed straightforward.  Some of these experiences remain vivid in our memory, while others have gradually become part of the larger collection of events accumulated during four years of walking.
 
However, they were not representative of most of our time on the Trans Canada Trail.  Most days were ordinary. We woke, packed our belongings, checked the weather, and continued along the route, stopping to photograph birds, investigate unfamiliar places, or speak with people we were fortunate to meet and spend time with. We walked through forests, farmland, cities, wetlands, and mountain landscapes, often with little more to worry about than finding water, finding a place to camp, or deciding what to prepare for dinner.

 
For all the attention given to bears, wolves, wilderness survival, and the dramatic dangers of long-distance hiking, our experiences suggested that the more common risks were frequently those associated with everyday activities: traffic, weather, and the occasional unexpected encounter. There were times when we were frightened, but there were far more occasions when we felt grateful to be walking, interested in what we were discovering, and appreciative of the people who helped us along the way.
 
Walking across Canada was and is not without risk, and it would be irresponsible to pretend otherwise. Yet those risks did not define our experience, and they certainly did not outweigh the remarkable opportunities we had to explore the country, observe its wildlife, and connect with the communities along the Trans Canada Trail.  After 14,000 kilometres, we remain convinced that the Trans Canada Trail offers extraordinary opportunities to explore Canada, but it is a real pathway through a real country, not an environment from which every hazard has been removed.  And perhaps that is the most useful answer we can offer.
 
See you on the Trail!