The cold woke me up. The cabin was in total darkness, and I searched for my headlamp on the table. The woodstove had gone out, and I spent some time relighting it, until the flames began to leap and dance and the small cabin began to warm up. With a screech of rusty springs, I opened the screen door and stepped outside. Snow had fallen, and everything was covered in a thin mantle of white. The night sky was breathtaking. A dome of black covered in thousands of stars, more than we would ever seen in southern Ontario. The milky way spanned the sky from horizon to horizon, while a sliver of moon illuminated the white snow. I spent several moments marveling at the sky and listening to the wind in the trees. I had hoped to hear the wolves behind us howling, but for now they were silent. The cold chased me back inside to the warmth of a big bed covered in thick blankets. Tomorrow would be a long day hiking a section of the La Cloche mountain range.
The La Cloche mountain range runs along the north shore of Lake Huron, from Killarney to Manitoulin Island. The numerous hiking trails offer spectacular vistas of lakes and rivers, as well as the white quartzite ridges and mountains. These trails are considered the most difficult in Ontario, both for their isolation and challenging climbs. We chose to start at Red Deer trail and head north up to Florence Lake. The morning was still cold, hovering around zero, but we quickly warmed up with exertion. Most of the leaves had fallen and we walked through ankle deep golden yellow leaves. Oaks still had kept their leaves, which had turned deep rust colors. My son gave a startled yelp, and I turned to see him wrestling with a strange creature attached to his face, like a scene from an alien horror movie. The creature turned out to be a harmless wet leave, loosened by the wind to land and stick on his face. Before long the hardwood forest began to thin and give way to marshy land. The mud was thick in places, and often we had to balance across logs to cross small streams and marshes. We left the Red Deer trail and merged into the Alexandar trail, a multiuse trail that was wide and easy to follow, but the ATV’s had made deep ruts in the mud that made keeping dry feet impossible.
This trail followed the low areas between mounds of granite and quartzite boulders. Towering cliffs formed on both sides, moss and ferns clinging to crevices. The sun seemed to disappear, though we could see it catching the tops of the tallest trees. Down in the gullies it was cool and gloomy. Multiple trails veered off from the main one, and there was little in the way of signage or blazes to follow, and even our map did not show the multiple routes. After an hour of hiking, we noticed blue signs ahead and we were eager to confirm that we were on the right trail. The only problem was a bridge we needed to cross first. A bridge that was leaning dangerously to one side, with missing planks, and large nails protruding from the rotten wood. With some tentative steps and fervent appeals to several deities, we managed to cross with no harm. Our blue sign indicated that we were at the convergence of three trails, including the Florence Lake trail heading north. Off we went, through more marsh and wetlands. Shortly we arrived at the lake, deep blue waters reflecting the huge granite ridges rearing up from the far shores. Deep reds and yellows still clung to some trees and showed up against the deep greens of the pine forests we had just entered. Some enterprising people managed to bring a canoe and small boat to the shore next to a deserted camp site. We took our time admiring the view and catching our breath before starting out on the next section.
We followed the trail around the lake, a route that became more and more difficult. It narrowed to half a foot as it slid off down steep cliffs to the lake below. Mosses and loose pine needles made the footing treacherous, and the trail was so steep that my feet threatened to slide sideways out of my shoe. An old rockslide provided an interesting obstacle, with the wet and mossy rocks providing precarious footholds. It was a beautiful area, with the deep brown of pine needles carpeting the forest floor, and vibrant green mosses growing like pincushions beside the trail. The lake shone next to us and the granite behemoth rose overhead. Eventually we came to another convergence of trails. We had hoped to continue up higher on the mountain, but the sun was moving low in the sky, and the next section of trail would be even more difficult. With regret we turned back, past Florence Lake to the marshy land. A huge pawprint in the mud caught our attention, one that was not there on our way in. The prints followed ours for at least a kilometer, and we wondered what canine had been following us out here. It gave me shivers to think that we had not even heard or seen the creature. It did give us added incentive to move a brisk pace along the trail.
It was near the trailhead that my son motioned me to stop and be quiet. Ahead of us was a deer and her two fawns. Her large ears flickered and moved while she looked directly at us. To our surprise she actually wagged her tail and walked towards us, close enough that we could have reached out and touched her. Instead, we continued on our way with a warning to her about stranger danger, especially strangers with big guns. Back at the car the sun had slid low in the sky, and a cold wind had us shivering after the exercise. It was time to head back to the cabin for a hot chocolate and an evening spent around the woodstove in our secluded off grid cabin.