Rain teemed down while I was eating breakfast, but then thankfully turned to a steady drizzle by the time I started out. The leafy canopy over the dirt road kept me fairly dry, but with the rain came the mosquitoes, swarms of them. They were joined by their biting friends, black flies and deerflies, all looking for any patch of skin that wasn't bathed in Deet.
I crossed through a meadow, where the tall wet grasses plastered my pants to my legs. My socks acted as a wick and drew the wetness inside my boots. The meadow was lovely though, even in the greyness, with its wildflowers of purple, yellow, and pink, and the humidity seemed to intensify their aroma.
The Trail turned and followed a dirt road for a while. I watched a common yellowthroat make his way along a rusted wire fence. A catbird called from a nearby tree, and a bumblebee buzzed along the roadside. There were no sounds of human presence here, save for the odd jet flying overhead. A sandhill crane popped out of a marsh and loped across the road in front of me; its mate caught sight of the stranger and called out a warning.
Then through another wet meadow and out to a black-topped sideroad. Here the sounds of civilization met me: an old woman used a whippersnipper in her side yard. Cows called from a nearby pasture, a farm dog barked. The road began a steady uphill climb, which reminded me, as hills often do, of my geocaching friend Flick. He had such an aversion to them.
And then the turn into Kemble Mountain. The rocks were slick and were a huge concern. More than once I slipped, but managed to catch myself. I kept thinking of my friend Linda, who fractured her ankle halfway through our North Coast Trail hike on Vancouver Island last year. She thought it was just sprained, and hobbled through the rest of the hike; I'm not sure I'm made of the same mettle.
At one point, the Trail took me over a stile into a bull pasture. Although there was a large 'Caution' sign posted, the bull was not in sight - which I was grateful for, as I had a red hanky tied to my backpack.
Then a turn back into the rocks, where the Trail actually went down into a rock corridor. The walls must have been twelve feet high. Not the place to be if one were claustrophobic. It surfaced after about 50 metres, and continued alongside the rock corridor as it twisted and turned.
I heard the sounds of other hikers coming towards me, the only ones I would see all day. A group of eight seniors approached, so I stood off the path a bit and waited for them to pass. The woman in front greeted me and looked beyond, for my non-existent companion. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, rapidfire, "Are you alone? Are you hiking the trail end-to-end? Are you staying at Rocklyn Inn in a few days?" As I kept nodding, she grinned excitedly and called back to the others, "This is the woman that Diana from the Inn was telling us about!" Then she turned back to me and added, "Diana is so looking forward to you coming!" They each greeted me in their own manner, as they passed. Some must have been in their eighties, and these rocks weren't easy walking. Truly inspiring.
Then out and through a swamp, with every kind of bug imaginable. I must have used half a bottle of bug spray in there.
The sun finally made an appearance around midday, and the rest of the hike was lovely, through cedar forests, and, for the most part, soft ground underfoot. I found a few geocaches; one took me to an underground waterfalls. The spring surfaced nearby, but by putting my ear to the rock I could actually hear the water fall underground.
Out to the rendezvous spot by 6:30, where the campground owners picked me up for the night.
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