A Canadian pilgrimage

Enjoying P.E.I.’s Camino de la Isla

STORY AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY DARCY RHYNO

On a recent trip to Spain, I was surprised when the sensation of being transported back to Prince Edward Island. It happened as I was walking beside a secluded two-kilometre Spanish beach near the end of the Way of St. James or Camino de Santiago, a 1,200-year-old pilgrimage trail.

Photo: Darcy Rhyno

Hundreds of pilgrims were following the same route, marked with the symbol of a yellow scallop shell, through northern Spain. Many walkers tie a shell to their backpacks. The scallop became the symbol of the Camino because centuries ago, pilgrims carried a shell home to prove they completed the journey.

Maybe it was the ever-present shellfish, the briny aroma of the Atlantic, the slight give of the sand beneath my feet or the meditative quality of that hushing sound of waves as they broke at my feet. Whatever the trigger, I thought of my day in P.E.I. with Bryson Guptill as we made our way along Cavendish Beach. It’s part of section 16 on the Island Walk, the 700-kilometre Camino de la Isla, which he created.

When Guptill walked the Camino de Santiago in Spain, he too thought of P.E.I. Although he grew up in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, he moved to the island in 2007 — he’s a true Maritimer. All along the Spanish Camino, pilgrims are received warmly, especially in religious and government dormitories called “hospitals,” so named because they offer hospitality for a few euros a night. It’s the kind of hospitality Guptill was familiar with.

“There’s something about Maritimers and their acceptance of people from elsewhere,” Guptill told me. “They’ll do anything for you.”

I thought of Dale Larkin, the owner of the Inn at the Pier in Stanley Bridge where I stayed for a couple of nights while walking sections of the trail. He drove me to the starting point each day. As the Island Walk catches on, more and more innkeepers like Larkin are offering similar services, proving Guptill’s belief in the hospitality of Maritimers.

Guptill discovered two other similarities between northern Spain and P.E.I. The geography of the island lends itself perfectly to a round-trip walk and it offers beautiful scenery.

“Compared to some of the places I’ve walked, we’ve got stunning scenery all the way around the island. This part is iconic P.E.I.,” says Guptill of the coastal route in and around P.E.I. National Park. “People have no idea what else there is to see like red dirt roads shrouded with canopies of trees. It’s simply spectacular.”

In 2019, after returning from his walk in Spain, he mapped out a 700-kilometre, figure-eight route around the island. It consists of 32 segments, each walkable in a day. That’s roughly equivalent to the most travelled routes on Spain’s Camino de Santiago.

As we paused for a rest and to take in the view over Cavendish Beach, Guptill talked more about his motivations for creating the Island Walk. It doesn’t have the same religious purpose of reaching a sacred Christian site like Santiago, where the faithful believe the remains of St. James, one of the twelve apostles of Jesus, rest.

“The Walk is something to help the common good,” said Guptill. “I think of it as more spiritual than religious. There’s something about the experience: the contemplation, the serenity, some spiritual attachment to the outdoors.”

His words reminded me of the quiet moments I enjoyed the day before on section 15 of the Island Walk. Looking out over golden fields of wheat and corn, I could see blue bays in the distance where rows of black buoys marked the locations of mussel farms. Crickets chirped along the roadside. Seeds hung from the ends of maple tree branches. I stooped to rescue a caterpillar from the road and plucked a stock of wheat to weave into my straw hat.

The thing about the Island’s roads, I realized as I walked, is that many are surprisingly straight. Sometimes, it seemed I wasn’t getting anywhere. That’s when I started noticing aches in my shins and feet. I fought the urge to stop and completed the section. Simply continuing on, always getting a little closer to the end, helped me past the pain.

Kensington at the start of a section of the Island Walk.

Photo: Darcy Rhyno

A shop in North Rustico.

Photo: Darcy Rhyno

Swimming in the Stanley River.

Photo: Steve Smith, VisionFire

Several times, I experienced a strange sensation. After hours of walking, it seemed my legs were moving automatically, continuing as if they had a mind of their own. The sensation helped alleviate discomforts because I understood that those distant points in the road were places I would eventually be. It’s this kind of contemplation and acceptance of the journey I believe Guptill was talking about.

Guptill and I walked past long stretches of lonely beach that day, eventually arriving at North Rustico. We found a table at the busy Blue Mussel Café for lunch. Just like on the Camino de Santiago in Spain, fellow walkers were fuelling on delicious local seafood like steaming bowls of mussels in white wine sauce.

P.E.I. is famous for its shellfish, particularly the mussels that live beneath those black buoys I spotted. I imagine pilgrims on the Island Walk following the symbol, not of a scallop shell, but of a blue mussel, marking the Camino as Canada’s pilgrimage and one of the world’s great walks.

Fish burgers for lunch at The Blue Mussel Cafe in North Rustico with Bryson Guptill.

Photo: Darcy Rhyno