It was an exciting last day. Rhonda drove me back to Woodend in the morning so I could carry on towards Queenston. We had arranged to meet Gloria and her dear friend Gwen there before I started out, so I could present her with The Shoe. She was quite ecstatic to get it back. Turns out we live fairly close to each other, so I am looking forward to meeting up with her in the future.
The Trail soon left Woodend and travelled onto a road for a while. It brought me past one of Niagara's famous Shoe Trees, and I couldn't help but be reminded of how Gloria had described her lost shoe to me - how she'd told me it had so much life left in it, how it held the promise of so many more miles.
When I passed through the Screaming Tunnels (which I remember visiting as a young teenager), I took the requisite photograph in case ghosts might show up on the image. Then the Trail went over a fairly new pedestrian bridge that is also part of the Trans Canada Trail and the Laura Secord Legacy Trail. Last time I travelled this section of the Bruce, we crossed the QEW via the adjacent railway bridge.
Peach orchards and wildflower-filled meadows, goldfinches and butterflies, cicadas and grasshoppers, buzzing bees and hopping frogs: the sights and sounds of the Trail, my beloved Bruce Trail, seemed much more intensified that day. And for the first time I noticed a sense of peace about me, a serenity I knew I didn't possess seven weeks ago when I first started out. Poplar leaves were strewn over the path, interspersed with the odd maple leaf: signs of autumn, the end of one season and the beginning of another.
As I approached Queenston, as I grew nearer with each step, I found I was experiencing an odd mix of euphoria and sadness - a euphoria that I was fortunate enough in so many ways to be able to take this journey, and a profound sadness that this part of the journey was nearing completion. It had proven to be one of the most interesting and challenging summers of my life.
Then it was out of the forest and along the paved path to the cairn that marks the southern terminus of the Bruce Trail. Dan and the dogs, and dear friends Trish, Violet and Adrian were there to greet me, and to walk with me that last couple hundred metres. Hesitantly, I reached out and touched the cool stone of the cairn, then kissed it.
I had made it. I had walked every step of the Bruce Trail, from Tobermory to Queenston, in forty-eight consecutive days. I had lost fifteen pounds and two toenails, and I'd gained experiences I'd remember the rest of my life. I had weathered a tornado and came very close to heat stroke. I had walked among thousand-year-old cedars, and marvelled at young saplings that perhaps one day will be just as old. I'd skipped across rocks that were here long before I was born, and will still be here long after I'm gone. I'd crawled through dark crevices into what felt like the very belly of the earth, and I'd gazed into treetops, watching raptors soar far below me. I'd walked along ancient tracks that the Petun peoples travelled centuries ago, and through the virgin paths of brand new reroutes to the Trail. I had made new friends and spent time making memories with old ones, in the process learning more about myself. Perhaps it was necessary, inevitable that this was a solitary journey, perhaps I am getting closer to answering the "Why".
What's next? I'm not sure. But it's pretty exciting to think about. After all, we really are limited only by our minds, aren't we?
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Congratulations! What an accomplishment!
ReplyDeleteThank you! That summer was a highlight in my life, for sure.
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