Hiking the Bruce Trail

Right off the top I have to apologize for the fact that the last few posts appear as run-on gibberish. Normally I at least try to compartmentalize my gibberish into paragraphs. But the fucking cat walked over the keyboard the other day, and I have no clue how to undo whatever the useless fur-bag just did. So here we are. Here at Falling Downs, we’ve got various strands of the Bruce Trail in close proximity. This morning I set out to explore one of those strands just on the other side of Bass Lake. To get there, I had to hike about a quarter mile east and then make a right at Lundy Road, cleverly named after the only family that lives on Lundy Road. What is essentially their very long driveway is maintained by the municipality, which is a good deal, but it’s also part of the Bruce Trail. The Lundys hike the Bruce every time they walk down the driveway! But enough about them. Walking is part of my mindfulness regimen. These are stressful times, and a little mindfulness helps dull the pain of the relentless mind-fuckery we are inundated with every day through our screens. I find it helpful to have a mantra you can repeat to yourself, something that keeps to the rhythm of your walking. I’m partial to Gregorian chant, but anything you can bend to your pace, even Bieber lyrics, would fit the bill. So I’m motoring up the Lundy Road and into the meadows beyond, the walking sticks a-flailing, talking to myself, and as I tend to do, I eventually go “off piste.” I’d done the trail that skirts the south side of Bass Lake, and at some point crossed a logging road. The Bruce Trail continued ahead. The logging road seemed to head in a vaguely westerly direction. I once did a lap around Bass Lake on my mountain bike. I figured it should be possible in hiking boots. I keep walking and chanting and inhaling the forest air. I’m in uncharted territory here. I emerge from forest trails into open pasture. More forest trails, more pastures… I’ve long since lost sight of the lake. I come to a fork in the logging trail. I bear right, because that should take me back towards the lake. Then there’s another fork, and I take the right again. More pastures, more logging roads, I’m totally in the zone. I got full mindfulness going on… About three hours into my hike, I had a sudden realization that the meadow I was traversing seemed uncannily familiar. Not only that, but I didn’t seem to be getting any closer to Bass Lake. I’d been walking around in circles. But here’s the thing. By the time I got home, I’d spent four hours out in the fresh air and away from the laptop. There’s still snow on the ground around some of those trails. The lake itself is mostly frozen. If we can get a spell of warm weather, the lake will thaw and the water will still be high enough I can take my canoe from my place right to the very end of Bass Lake. Just have to adapt the mantra to the paddle strokes.