I bade farewell to my hosts at 9 a.m. and headed out on another perfect, cloudless day. The Trail followed roads at first, about 4 km. of pastoral scenery. I saw many kingbirds and tree swallows on the wires.
Then I passed through a variety of landscapes: shale-topped shoreline, sunny meadow, and shady deciduous forest. Ahead of me a hawk took flight, with a snake dangling from its beak.
I had a lunch of rehydrated hummus and Mary's Crackers at the Jackson's Cove Overlook. This was the first time I've ever had a good look at Barrier Island, and I eyed it well through binoculars; it would be neat to put in there by boat, I think.
Looking down on Jackson's Cove, my thoughts were filled with the doctor I had in Woodstock for many years. He was a wonderful human being who met with a tragic, untimely death after moving here. His last years sure were spent among idyllic surroundings.
When I left the Overlook, I nearly jumped out of my skin. There, leaning against a tree watching me, was a man. Something in his demeanour was frightening, or perhaps it was that I was still startled from discovering him there. I uttered a greeting as I passed by, and he questioned me, in a British accent, about what lay ahead on the path. I told him about the Overlook and quickly departed. I was still so shaken by the encounter that I kept glancing behind me to ensure he wasn't following me. A few minutes later I heard more male British lilts ahead of me on the Trail, and shortly after, their owners appeared. The two men asked me if I'd seen their companion, and I gave them directions to the Overlook. It's strange how one man alone can frighten me to the core, and yet two together weren't a concern to me at all.
The rhythm of the forest quickly calmed my nerves, though. A redstart flitted through the cedars, his crimson patches bright against the green and brown. The brilliant sun turned an ordinary jay into a vision of magnificence, lighting up every nuance of blue imaginable.
I arrived at Hope Bay and soon found my campsite. After setting up, I was enjoying my supper when a woman from a neighbouring site approached. She expressed interest in my expedition (with the backpack and no vehicle, I find I'm tending to draw a certain amount of attention). She also took note of my GPS and its tell-tale lanyard, and to my astonishment asked me if I was caching along the way! That's how I ended up spending most of the evening in the company of three wonderful, empowered women who were out camping for a few days in their van. We walked a short ways to find a geocache, then DNF'd another. We talked and laughed, and made plans to meet again. It was a few short hours that I will always treasure.
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