Just outside the small village of Creemore there is a side road off county road 9, little more than a dirt track, that leads to a beautiful hiking area. If your car makes it up the small, but steep hill, you will find the parking area for the Creemore Nature Preserve, which itself is a part of Nature Conservancy Canada. These groups aim to preserve natural spaces, while removing invasive species and reintroducing native plants. All worthwhile causes, with the bonus of hiking trails to admire their important work.
I parked my car and grabbed my gear. Soft flakes of snow drifted around me as I started up the track, made slippery by the temperature fluctuations and many feet, both human and canine. Tall and straight pines marched off in the distance, with a warning sign that the trees in this part of the forest where being logged. On my left an old cedar fence marked private land filled with mature spruce and maple. A scent wafted on the cold wind, pungent and musky. Intrigued, and of course lacking common sense to avoid animals, I followed the odor into the forest to find the source. The prints of many deer hooves merged into an area of churned up snow, and the source of that scent became clear. That infamous yellow snow that you should not eat, though the smell is more than enough deterrent in my opinion. Curiosity satisfied, and not having been eaten by a ravenous Wendigo, I returned to the track and the last few hundred meters to the entrance to the preserve.
The icy trail was pockmarked by human and dog tracks, frozen into ankle-breaking paths that had me gripping my poles for stability. Thickly crevassed bark of maple and smooth grey trunks of beech were predominant in this forest, with the occasional evergreen adding some color. Off in the distance two ravens were engaged in conversation, the deep “gronks” and croaks provided no clue to what they were discussing. Small chickadees hopped along low branches, their calls higher and more musical. Further on, the trail began a downward descent into a small valley, and a pond frozen over. A small brook flowed over rocks, adding to the forests symphony with its babbling and murmuring as it danced over the rocky stream bed. A majestic pileated woodpecker contributed the bass notes, as it drummed on a nearby dead tree, the sound echoing through the forest.
I left the melodic forest behind as the trail ascended out of the valley and up onto a ridge of land between two hollows. Up here the only sound was the wind in the bare upper branches. The light flakes of snow became thicker and heavier until visibility was limited to only a few meters. I was mildly concerned as I had never been here before and there were multiple routes to take, and that fictitious Wendigo might not be so fictitious. There had been some previous melting of the snow up here, and around every tree trunk was a deep depression, exposing moss and ferns that were still verdant. Though the thick snow was dampening most sounds, I could still hear the tinkling noise of another stream down in the hollow. I gingerly made my way down to the stream flowing across rocks of brown and grey. These cold streams are essential habit for trout, especially in the deeper pools that never freeze. Thick planks crossed over the moving water, overlaid with metal sheeting for better traction. I spent time admiring that cold and clear waters, soothed by its musical tones.
The red trail that I had been following encircled the preserve, and after leaving the stream, the path led up, and up and up. An extensive hill to traverse up to the next ridgeline, and while this trail was much less used, the frozen length added to the challenge. Once, ok maybe twice, I stopped to admire the scenery, and to catch my breath. The snow finally lost its snow globe like quality and became more of a light dusting. As the temperature was hovering around zero, the snow was much preferable to a drenching cold rain. As I completed the red circuit and returned to the entrance, a large shape materialized in my peripheral vision. Oh my god, the Wendigo! Ummm, ok, maybe not. Instead, I turned my head to watch a majestic large deer bound and leap through the forest and across my path. Probably running from that Wendigo, though I should definitely stop watching late night television shows about (mostly) mythical creatures.
Kudos to the visitor to this preserve, as there was no litter, not even the ubiquitous poop bags usually found where people walk their dogs. The trails were well marked and maintained, and I would hazard a guess that in summer this is a forest filled with birds and flowers and people, though today I had it to myself. Once at the car I removed my gear and got in the driver’s seat and backed out of the parking lot. I glanced in my rearview mirror as I was leaving, and I am sure that I saw a shadowy figure back the way I had come, though I am positive it was not a Wendigo, but maybe a bigfoot. Enjoy nature and this lovely trail, just don’t watch scary programs before heading out on your own!