Surviving the Bruce Trail

Got home in one piece from our Bruce Trail adventure, which is more than can be said for my shoes. The trail is littered with markers reminding me of the frailty of my elderly digestive tract. There's "Big Dump," "Half-a-Dump,"and, my favorite, "Wish-You-Had-a-Dump-Yesterday." Also, beware of the two-storey outhouses conveniently located about every eight hours along the trail. I played it safe and stuck to the upstairs units. These back-woods loos are notable for lacking two features commonly associated with the modern bathroom - running water and electricity. When is the last time you visited a bathroom that didn't have a sink? Perhaps for budgetary reasons, the folks responsible for the trail haven't got around to fitting their outhouses with bug screens. As a result, hordes of hungry mosquitoes descend on you just when you drop your drawers. If nothing else, this ensures no one lingers in the loo longer than absolutely necessary. Sleeping accomodations along the trail are somewhat spartan. Rest your weary head on a randon piece of driftwood found on the beach, and you're good to go. Thanks to my old pal Tom for organizing this adventure. It's been in the planning stages since we met at the University of Guelph 40 years ago. Now that we're crowding 70, we figured the time was right. After all, like so many things in life, wilderness hikes are mostly wasted on the young. By my calculations, I've now completed about 8% of the Bruce Trail. At that rate, I should have the whole enchilada under my belt sometime in the next 400 years or so. It's good to have goals!