Thursday, 13 August 2015

Day Thirty-Eight, August 11: "Lost Kittens and More Wrong Turns." Kilbride to Mount Nemo, 17.4 km., 6 hours.


The day dawned clear and dry, which was a tremendous relief after yesterday's rains.  I packed up slowly; I was sorry to leave Mandy's place after the two nights I had spent there.  I had met her during my early days on the Trail, up in the Peninsula where she was camping near me one night.  She'd offered me a place to stay once I'd reached her neck of the woods, and I'd gratefully accepted.  The past couple of nights she and her family had opened up their hearts and their home to me.  There sure are some remarkable people in the world.

The Trail began my day with a long boardwalk, fording streams that were overflowing after the downpour yesterday.  It then took me into the town of Kilbride, winding through the community complex and schoolyard.  Children were busy in a huge playground so unlike the ones I remember as a child.  Then through the residential section, where a realtor hammering a sign into someone's front lawn nodded to me and said, "Looks like you belong on the Bruce Trail!"  I pointed to a white blaze on a nearby hydro pole, and told him I actually was on the Bruce Trail.

On another hydro pole, this one right at a turn into the forest, a sign was posted about a missing kitten.  Lucas had somehow gotten loose in Mount Nemo the week before, and his owners were frantic with worry.  I made a mental note to keep an eye open, as my route for the day included that area.

The Trail kept me in the forest for a while, but I knew I was never far from civilization.  There were plenty of indications, from the sound of lawnmowers buzzing to the squeals of children playing.  An odd-looking steel bridge on stilts took me over a wide stream, and I puzzled over its design.  I couldn't imagine the water rising that high in the spring.

A couple of acorns fell from the tree above me, bouncing off my hat.  A tiny chipmunk, missing his tail, scurried across the path in front of me.  Then I was out to a road, which the Trail followed for much too long.  A turn, and it went alongside an old quarry.  I stopped often on this section, since it was peppered with geocaches to find and plenty of birds to watch in the adjacent meadow.

I was to meet my friends Violet and Adrian later that afternoon, and then spend the night at their campsite, but ran into them early.  They were scouting around for somewhere to ride their bikes.  I directed them to the start of the path, where they could leave their van and ride their bikes into Mount Nemo.

A stile brought me from this path into the road, and then onto the laneway into Mount Nemo.  A small group of people were gathered on the other side of the street; a young woman called to me from the group.  "Are you Layna's sister?" she asked.  "No," I said, puzzled.  "Oh," she replied.  "We have a friend whose sister is hiking the Bruce, end-to-end.  I thought you might be her."  And then a discussion ensued about my hike.  She told me about theirs:  they are also hiking the Bruce end-to-end, but doing "the ten-year plan", as she called it.

The overlooks in Mount Nemo were magnificent, serving up views of land and water that stretched for miles.  I gazed over the escarpment I'd travelled in the last few days, and found I could pick out Rattlesnake and Kelso.  It was so peaceful walking along the edge up there that I completely missed the turn that would take me down the escarpment.  There were still faded blazes showing on some trees (the Trail must have been rerouted here at one time) so I didn't realize my mistake until the path fizzled out about a kilometre past my turn.  Oops!  That was good for a couple of extra kilometres on the day.

Down to the bottom, and it was a long haul along busy roads to my rendezvous point with Violet and Adrian.  And then it was time for a nice cold beer.




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