It was a distinct and utterly surprised tone of a male voice that projected out from this three-storey residential building. As audible as could be were the words: "What the hell!"
I was certain that these three words of shock were in reference to myself, as they were delivered just minutes after I began a short trek on "The Great Trail," which actually spans across the whole of Canada. I looked like a pink Arab with my Indian monk's lunghi(lower robe), kurta(Indian shirt) and utariya(shawl) on my head, in a faded saffron tone due to too many washings. https://www.instagram.com/p/BzVp931gosN/?igshid=ns33dseh94kt
This is small-town Ontario. People don't see people like me passing through their backyards. I could not see the source of the sound: "What the hell!" I cast a wave of my hand to the anonymous man, and kept silent, although I wanted to say: "What the heaven!"
Moving along, I found it necessary for the head cover, as the cloth flapped so, keeping deer flies off. They are nasty buggers. I strode for two and a half hours on a walk that was only intended to be a 45 minute job. Somehow or other, my driver, Fernando, must have misunderstood directions through language barrier—he's originally from Brazil. I had suggested: "Just pick me up at the first crossroads from the first road that meets with the trail." I should have been more precise because he drove and parked the car just one long block at the first crossroads. By the time he got there, I was well on my way.
Two and a half hours later, with twelve kilometres on my feet, we found each other. Our cellphones helped us. And so did the watchful eyes of God staying with us on that lonely trail."