21 August 2024 – I am metaphorically at my wit’s end, as I step down from Brentwood Town Centre onto a busy street…

and, it turns out, geographically at WITT’s end as well.

This Burnaby shopping mall is the south end of Willingdon Linear Park, which the website tells me runs 13 blocks along Willingdon north to Hastings Street. I only later learn it is also a WITT project — a Walking Infrastructure To Transit project, part of a civic program to improve pedestrian access to public transit.

I might have enjoyed the pun, had I known it at the time.

Nahhh. Much more likely, as I turned the corner onto Willingdon Ave., that I would have simply continued to feel at wit’s end (“confused, uncertain what to do next”).

Does this look like any kind of park to you? No signage, just a double-wide sidewalk.

Well, okay. I head north.

And it begins to improve.

Some undulations, some landscaping, some diversions.

I begin to see bright side panels…

eco-sculptures…

and micro-parks, one with a fountain and generous seating…

and one with a climbing sculpture.

The bus stops have marshland scenes etched into the glass…

and utility boxes are photo-wrapped with artwork.

City workers are out in force…

though, while I applaud civic clean-up, I do wonder about the utility of simply blowing leaves from one place to another.

One last side panel, its blue curves echoing the curves of the Coast Range mountains beyond…

and I’m almost at Hastings, northern end of the park.

A final amusement.

I do like this! Mad puppy-dog biplane pilot careening through startled geese: thank you Emily Zimmerman. Created in 2010, her mural long predates the linear park. It’s also a lot more fun.

I think about it later, the lack of fun. And yes, maybe I am over-thinking. It’s just that… I find I am still at wit’s end about this experience. It was so lifeless! I bet you noticed that, in my photographs.

I did meet other pedestrians, people did walk and roller-blade the pathway, but nobody paid any attention to it, or its amenities. The fountain was turned off. No child bounced in the climbing sculpture. Nobody sat on a bench. It was emotionally inert. Chilly.

Mad puppy-dog biplane pilot was a relief, up there at Hastings: it warmed me up again.

Odd.