Illustration by Jasmine Zhang
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It was the documentary The World Before Your Feet that inspired us. Watching a man walk every street in New York made my friend Martha and I think that would be a terrific way to discover the heart of our own hometown. Besides, Kingston is considered the most walkable city in Ontario. So, armed with nothing but a massive book of street maps provided by the local planning department, we set out to walk a minimum of 10 kilometres every Saturday until we’d covered every paved curve and crescent and cul-de-sac.
We began in the middle of the pandemic on Sept. 1, 2021. We marked out the city boundaries and since we were both already avid walkers, 542.4 kilometres of pavement didn’t deter us.
We loved the idea of discovering parts of the city we had never seen. Every yard offered a glimpse into the personality of those who loved it. Some were rich with apple trees laden with fruit. Others were a tumble of bits of painted wood, twisted metal and even a few random plastic skulls. But more than the scenery and steps taken, the biggest discovery was the questions, the keen observations and the ponderings shared between us.
Layers were uncovered as we walked and talked. I admitted my fondness for romance novels and wobbly inflatable Santas. Martha revealed her obsession with tiny free libraries. “How are we even friends?” she joked one day. Maybe it’s because, for both of us, walking is a sanity placeholder. There is a meditative joy in pounding the pavement; along with an ease of conversation that comes without the face-to-face intensity that can hinder intimacy. With every footstep, we became better listeners and our friendship grew.
We purposely went old school with directions, writing them out on a slip of paper before the start of each walk and then using colourful markers to trace the completed routes upon return. If we got lost, which was rare, we got our bearings from landmarks and friendly strangers who thought we were slightly mad. We were disciplined and rarely missed a Saturday – mostly because we didn’t want to be 90 by the time we’d walked the entire city! Some neighbourhoods were a jumble of tree-filled fairy gardens or wildflowers cascading over fences; others were a treasure trove of urban art – a long clothesline hung with dozens of pink masks; a fence made to look like a book case. So many streets, so little time.
When winter winds moved in off Lake Ontario, Martha’s electric socks came out and slushy puddles jumped out to attack at whim. But we persevered. Even freezing cold days in Kingston are magnificent with the crackling of shifting ice on the water and the haze of subdued light. Houses and yards come alive with holiday garlands and many a twinkle light. One white brick home looked surprisingly like a pile of festive Lego blocks. Sure, there were some days we wanted to stay in bed, but what had started as a whimsical project had become sacred, a meet-up essential to our mental and physical health. During the week we allowed ourselves cheat walks with others, but Saturday mornings were ours alone. Our deep conversations remained private. What happened on the pavement, stayed on the pavement.
In all the years of Saturdays we walked, only once were we met with unpleasantness when an angry young man in a souped up car pulled alongside and shouted at us to walk on the sidewalk. In the early days of our trek, the pandemic was in full swing, so to keep the mandatory six feet between us, one of us walked on the road if there was no traffic. We wished the unhappy driver well as he squealed off and rambled onward with determined steps and dreams and ever more questions, the answers for which we always looked up once we got home.
We were never in a hurry, so neither were our conversations. Our relationship grew richer amid the soundscape of feet striking the pavement. Three years. Six pairs of shoes each. One hundred and fifty-six walking days. A total of 542.4 kilometres of streets walked.
We are forever changed by what started as a fanciful “what if” project. Full of confidence now, we are thinking of tackling the 180 kilometre Frontenac K & P Trail next. Built on the 1870s Kingston and Pembroke railway bed, this multi-use trail connects Kingston to Renfrew, Ont.
I still enjoy corny love stories and Martha still screeches to a halt in front of every small library, but as long as we are able, we’ll keep pulling ourselves out of bed to put one foot in front of the other. And by doing so, we’ll continue to find ourselves and each other, one pair of shoes at a time.
Patricia Henderson lives in Kingston.