Last night, another hiker stumbled into the other backpacking site in camp. The young man set up his bivy, crawled in, and promptly fell asleep. This morning we shared coffee and Trail stories: he is travelling from south to north, through the northern sections, having already completed the southern sections in years past. He had moved to Alberta before he could get the entire Trail done, and it always bothered him that he'd left it unfinished, so he's finally returned to complete it.
We wished each other "Good Trails", and headed off in opposite directions.
After leaving the Wiarton waterfront, I entered the woods and climbed to the top of the escarpment by way of a lovely pair of ladders. Almost immediately I found myself in a huge wild strawberry patch, the fruit plump and still glistening with dew. Their time is later here than at home, it seems. I've also noticed a few trilliums still in bloom up here.
Savouring the intense flavour of these berries was a great start to an enjoyable hike. I passed through meadow and grassland, then around the airport, which was playing host to a small jet. Old farm implements lay at the side of the Trail, relics from another age. A good-sized maple had grown through the centre of a rusted cultivator. A few minutes later I came across some of the oddest things I've ever seen while hiking: next to the Trail were three cement grave liners, shaped like caskets. One was even lidded. I was very glad the sun was overhead, that it wasn't dusk.
The Trail followed a busy road for a bit, then headed up towards Bruce Caves. Lost in thought, I walked by two geocaches before I thought to look at the GPS. The next one was near the opening of the Caves, but the Trail runs along the top of the escarpment here. When I arrived I took off the pack for a rest, and contemplated climbing down. The sound of voices below dissuaded me, so I ended up cacheless for the day.
The next three hours were spent hiking through some of the oldest white cedars in eastern North America. The views over Colpoy's Bay were magnificent, and I watched bald eagles below me, soaring over the water, while I took in the fragrance of the trees. I had it all to myself the entire time, not meeting a single other hiker on the path.
Once, I had the uncomfortable feeling I was being watched, so I stopped and glanced around. Two does stood in the trees, still as statues, then suddenly took off.
At a particularly inviting overlook I paused to sit on a log for a few minutes, and heard the unmistakable whirr of a hummingbird's wings. She buzzed around me twice, curious as to the stranger, then darted away.
The Trail opened up into meadow once again, and cut through what appeared to be old farmland. A pair of butterflies wildly danced atop waist-high grasses. Dilapidated cedar rail fencing zigzagged along the escarpment edge. On my other side was an ancient orchard with its gnarled apple trees still boasting fruit.
That hike was over much too soon, but I had a soft bed lined up at a B&B next to the Trail for the night, and after that, another day of hiking to look forward to.
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