What Did We Miss Most About Home While Walking Across Canada?

Missing the Ordinary Comforts of Home while Hiking on the Trans Canada Trail

One of the questions we have occasionally been asked about spending six years walking across Canada is what we missed most about home. After all, travelling for months at a time along the Trans Canada Trail meant leaving behind familiar routines, the few personal belongings we still had, and many of the conveniences that are simply part of everyday life.

 
Perhaps surprisingly, it wasn't necessarily any one particular place or possession that we missed. More often, it was the ordinary comforts of having somewhere to settle and the freedom to decide how we wanted to spend our time.  For example, I had never really considered how much I appreciated being able to sit comfortably on a chair or a couch until we had spent weeks walking with backpacks, sitting on rocks, damp grass, or whatever other surfaces happened to be available. After a long day on the trail, there was something wonderfully appealing about the prospect of sitting in a chair without having to consider where we would sleep that evening or how far we needed to walk the following morning.
 
There were other small luxuries that we occasionally found ourselves thinking about. Being able to do laundry not by hand or having to take a day off the trail to wash up.  Being able to take a long shower without worrying about the availability of hot water, or simply picking up a favourite book and spending an afternoon reading, became unexpectedly appealing. Even the possibility of staying in bed a little longer, without having to pack our belongings and prepare to move on, was something we appreciated whenever the opportunity arose.

    

 
Yet perhaps what we missed most was the freedom to choose not to do something.  At home (well, my parents’ home now), if the weather is miserable, we can decide not to go outside. If freezing rain was falling, snow was blowing across the landscape, or thunderstorms were approaching, there was usually the option of remaining indoors, making another cup of coffee, and waiting for conditions to improve. While hiking, that choice was not always (rarely) available. Sometimes we had to continue because there was nowhere practical to remain, no means to stay camping where we were, or because reaching the next community was necessary to obtain food, water, shelter, or give a presentation.
 
This did not mean that we deliberately ignored dangerous conditions or continued regardless of the risks. We frequently adjusted our plans when circumstances required it. Nevertheless, there is a considerable difference between deciding to remain at home during an unpleasant afternoon and finding ourselves several kilometres from the nearest settlement, knowing that continuing was the only means to reach somewhere more comfortable. 

 
Of course, over time, we became accustomed to living with fewer conveniences, managing our daily routines around unexpected and changing circumstances, as well as finding ways to make ourselves somewhat comfortable wherever we happened to be. Yet getting used to the situation did not necessarily make every inconvenience disappear. A cold shower was still a cold shower, wet clothing remained unpleasant, and an uncomfortable place to sit did not become more appealing simply because we had grown accustomed to hiking.
 
With that said, there were also things we appreciated about being away from home. Our days offered opportunities to explore unfamiliar places, observe wildlife, meet people, and spend time outdoors without the usual commitments of everyday life. We enjoyed those experiences enormously, which was why we continued travelling for so long.  But enjoying life on the trail did not mean that we stopped appreciating the comforts of being home.

 
Interestingly, however, we discovered that returning home involved a similar adjustment. After months of appreciating the opportunity to sit on a comfortable couch, enjoy a long shower, or spend an afternoon reading without having to worry about where we would sleep that evening, we gradually began noticing the things that were no longer part of our everyday lives. We missed the smell of the forest after a rainstorm, the opportunity to sit beside a lake and watch the sunset, and the simple pleasure of spending most of our days outdoors. In their place were the sounds of televisions coming through the walls of neighbouring condominium units, the routines of living in a shared building, and the same filtered indoor air day after day. After months of being back, these became familiar features of everyday life again, but familiarity did not necessarily make them more appealing. Instead, we began to long for even the complicated days on the Trans Canada Trail.

 
Perhaps what we missed most about home while walking was the freedom to stop, be comfortable, and decide that we simply didn't want to go anywhere that day. Yet once we returned, we found ourselves missing the freedom to spend entire days outside, travelling through unfamiliar places and discovering what might be waiting around the next bend in the trail.
 
Neither experience is without its inconveniences, and neither offers everything we wanted. The comforts of home were genuinely appealing after weeks of walking, just as the quiet, fresh air, and changing landscapes of the trail became things we have missed after returning.
 
So, what did we miss most about home? Often, it was the ordinary comforts and choices that we had previously taken for granted. And now that we're back, some of the things we miss most are the equally ordinary moments that were part of our days on the Trans Canada Trail.
 
See you on the Trail!