Algonquin Park is a hiker’s paradise, filled with nature, four-legged animals, and tourists, lots and lots of tourists. Which is why I don’t come here in the warmer months. Now that the leaves are gone and weather is cold and dreary, there are only a few people out on the trails. The Track and Tower trail is a very popular hiking area, found just along the HWY 60 corridor. This 7.5 km loop trail is rated difficult with many steep sections and can take 3 hours to complete. I strapped on my day pack and grabbed my poles, off to enjoy the fall day.
The morning was cold and crisp, and the woods were sharp with smells of decaying leaves. I easily made my away along the well marked trail, as acorns rolled underfoot and off in the distance a woodpecker made his distinctive rat-a tat-tat as he searched for bugs in dead trees. A small pond, covered with a fine layer of ice, appeared on my right, created by industrious beavers damming a small stream. Further ahead the trees thinned then opened to reveal Cache Lake. The low grey clouds choose this moment to part, and the blue waters sparkled in the sunlight. I questioned the difficult rating this trail had been given, as so far the land was predominantly flat with only some roots and rocks to stumble upon. It was the sound of running water, spilling over a causeway, that suggested that the terrain was about to change. I followed the brook, gurgling and burbling over the wet rocks, with a granite bluff rearing overhead. Here hiker’s have the option of continuing along that stream and heading back to the trail head, however, for the more adventurous, a bridge spans that tumbling water and heads to the lookout.
The boardwalk continues for a shot distance as it skirts the edge of a swamp and immediately the trail difficulty increases, with abrupt changes in the elevation and with more rugged terrain. The brown reeds of the wetlands gave way to a larger and faster flowing river, the cold waters sluicing down small cascades. This is where the lookout trail begins its steep ascent. A lengthy staircase winds its way to the top of the escarpment, which is the most difficult part for me with a knee that doesn’t bend without significant pain. I stopped for a moment to rest, leaning on the railing and looking over the peaceful forest. A movement a few steps below me caught my eye. I smiled as a large red squirrel gave me a very intense gaze, though the smile slipped from my face as he let out several aggressive chitters when I failed to produce any snacks. I gathered my poles and started back up the stairs with the squirrel keeping pace. What is it with me and these rodents? I was beginning to think that this was personal!! I kept on, and a quick glance up had me happy to see the top, until I made eye contact with another red squirrel sitting on the last post. Those beady little eyes looked directly at me, and the chittering from behind was now accompanied by angry chitters from in front. I was surrounded!! Well, no fluffy rodent was going to intimidate me, and I rushed up the last steps and back out on to the trail. The two ruffians sat on opposite posts, glaring balefully at me. I wondered if they would still be there on my return trip, but that was a later problem.
At this point the trees are thinner, and a light breeze ruffled my hair. There was once a fire tower here, now long gone. Instead, rocks jut over the abyss with a stunning view of the lake. I almost had a heart attack as a head popped up from the edge of the cliff and a family stood to greet me. The small ledge they had been sitting on had me swooning just from the thought of anyone being there. Initially the lovely Asian family laughed at my discomfort as they grabbed my hand and encouraged me to move closer to that precipitous drop, but my look of utter terror must have convinced them that perhaps this was not a good idea. They did insist on a series of photos of me, standing nowhere near that edge, posing in terror before they returned to dangling over that edge, as I carefully made my way back to the top of the stairs. No squirrels in sight as I made a hasty retreat down the stairs, wary of roving gangs of vermin. I followed the trail back down, the towering bluff blocking the sun and allowing moss to grow thick on the rocks and trees. The silence was powerful here, and I shut my eyes and breathed in deeply of that clean air. As my breaths became deeper and slower, so too did my thoughts, and I felt my shoulders relax and the tension leave my body. This is my peace.
The trial crosses another bridge, and down in the shallow waters the submerged planks of an old train trestle are visible. The Grand Trunk railway once ran through here but now the great trains are gone, leaving only the thrum of bike wheels to disturb the silence. After a short distance, the trail leaves the bike path and continues on through the quiet forests. I was surprised to see a small beige moth fluttering over the leaf litter. First one, then another, until the forest floor was a sea of insects erupting from the brown forest floor. Magical but unsettling, as I wonder if this is the invasive winter moth that defoliates oak leaves, though I have no way of knowing for sure. The last kilometer has my pace significantly slowed, as my knee began to make its complaints. I arrived back at the parking area two and a half hours after starting, with a deep sense of accomplishment and a knee that would be reminding me of my trek for the next few days, but worth every step.