I was in Creemore for an appointment, and thought I would wander back to some trails that I vaguely remembered from my youth. Those dirt roads were now populated with million-dollar homes, set back against the beautiful Maple Valley. I turned up another dirt lane until the road finally ended with a muddy tract that led deep into the forest. The dirt road became a water eroded tract, and I had to steer my old girl around huge holes, jagged rocks and up onto the bank to avoid bottoming out my CRV. This is not a road for the faint hearted, and I imagine even some trucks would turn around, but not me! My old car is just like me; aged, battered, but damn stubborn!
I parked just off the muddy trail and headed out to the Noisy River Provincial Park. Initially the trail is easy to follow, leading through mixed forests to a small and still pond. This is an amazing spot to stop and take a deep breath to still the mind. I spent several minutes here, enjoying the solitude, then turned and continued along the scant trail that meandered above a high bank with a small brook burbling in the low areas. There are no blaze marks, and the trail is covered in detritus, making it almost impossible to find the trail. I wandered through the forest, following the creek, until I was no longer able to find any sign of a trail. With great disappointment I returned to my car, but refused to give up my hike. Instead, my old car and I pushed on along the narrow road. Often, I would need to stop and use my hiking poles to gauge the depth of the puddles I was considering plowing through. It was only once I crested a hill and looked down on the most formidable mud puddle I had ever seen, stretching wide and deep across the trail, that I conceded defeat. Thus began a half kilometer drive, backwards, through those same deeply rutted trails, and often I would have to drive with my door open so I could navigate around those deep potholes. Eventually I was able to find a small area to turn around, branches scratching along my poor car, and headed back out to the main road.
Once on the main road I had no idea where to go, but chose to head up Maple Valley along a twisting road towards spots I remembered as routes for the Brue Trail. I turned up another dirt road, and there it is, the Bruce Trail, tracing a route through forests, fields and wetlands. I opted to head west and up, hoping for a spectacular view of Maple Valley. Someone has nicely made stairs to navigate the steepest portion of the trail, and once up on top of the escarpment the trail continues along fallow fields. It is here, that I feel the worries of the world drop away. My fears around my doctor’s appointment slip away, and with each step my breaths become deeper, my thoughts become clearer, and that gimpy left leg becomes looser and my stride stronger. The trail goes up hill, then down and up again, which sounds suspiciously like what our grandparents said that they went through to go to school, uphill both ways.
A light rain settled around me, which I loved. I have no problem with hiking in the rain and love the quiet it brings. The silence is peaceful. There are so many old maples here, ancient trees often hollow with age. I stopped and stuck my head up one trunk, only to be warned by the grunting of some denizen that this was her winter abode. Respect. Instead I turned around and headed back down to my car, eye glasses misted over, clothing damp, and mind refreshed.