“Let’s go find some trees,” my friend said a few days ago. So here we are sitting on a rock in High Park where trees are not hard to come across. They are right in front of us, sticking their bare branches into the sky. I try to block out the noise coming from Queensway and imagine I am in the forest. Not an easy task so I focus on birds chirping and twittering instead.
At the end of last week, my husband finally emerged from under a pile of tests and report cards. So on Saturday we decided to celebrate by going on a hike at Rattlesnake Point Conservation Area.
It is a beautiful November afternoon. We are on our way to Scarborough Bluffs, one of Toronto’s famous natural attractions that I have heard so much about but never got time to visit. As we drive through the east end, my friend and I listen to Queen and talk about our cell phone obsessed culture and Toronto’s diverse neighbourhoods. My son falls asleep in the back seat. It is a long drive. Sometimes it feels we are in a different city altogether.
We finally turn onto Brimley Road South. It winds its way downhill through the fall-coloured parkland, half of the trees already spot bare branches. We round another turn, and the blue waters of Lake Ontario come into view. I can hear my friend gasp next to me. I must admit that even though I knew the lake was coming at the bottom of the road, this inundation of open space and water is startling.
Every year as the fall rolls in, we find it more and more difficult to get out of the city. School, work, homework, extra-curricular activities, Halloween costumes, piles of tests for my husband to grade, somehow these activities take up more and more space and all of a sudden we can’t go camping every other weekend anymore. But it is not necessarily a bad thing because it frees up a lot of time for local explorations. Lately, I realized that quite often when I think about nature and adventures I cast my eyes far beyond the horizon to places up north or parks south of the border. Richard Louv, author of The Nature Principle and The Last Child in the Woods, calls this phenomenon ‘place blindness,’ a tendency to overlook the beauty of nature close to home. Don’t get me wrong, I still need my quiet and solitude that can only be found in remote places. However, by embracing microadventures, I discovered that lots of beautiful natural spaces can be found close by, even in a big urban area like Toronto.
In the fall, every bright, sunny day feels like a gift. And as October nears its end, I become acutely aware that each of those days may be the last one before the temperatures drop, before it rains, before the snow falls. Not that I don’t like rain or snow. I enjoy being outside in any weather. But sunny skies are always a cause for celebration. So yesterday I decided to take advantage of a glorious fall day and headed to High Park.
High Park is 399 acres of nature right in the middle of Toronto filled with large green spaces, hiking trails, picnic areas, sports facilities, Grenadier pond, numerous streams and waterfalls, a dog park, playgrounds and even a small zoo. That is why, High Park is often a destination of choice for people seeking a nature retreat amidst a busy city. It becomes particularly busy in the spring when people flock here in large numbers to see the famous cherry blossoms (To see pictures of High Park in the spring, check some of my posts on Random|Pix). Little as I like crowds, it is exciting to see people getting so excited about nature. In October, High Park looks different from its airy, boisterous, cherry-blossomed self but it is no less beautiful decked in its best fall attire.
I zoom in on a lonely red leaf tucked in between bare branches. Not ready to let go of the tree that has been its home for the past several months, it is basking in the sun, blushing under its fiery gaze. Eventually, it will get whisked away by the wind and twirl its way onto the ground, adding its warmth to an already thick blanket. Or it will zigzag through the air and end up on the steely surface of the lake below, a tiny red boat gliding into winter. I wish good luck to a brave little traveller and continue on my way.
What do dinosaurs and volcanoes have to do with World War II and how is any of these things connected to Neys Provincial Park? Read on to find out!
Neys Provincial Park is located on the northern shore of Lake Superior not far from a small town of Marathon. It is considerably smaller and less famous than the other Lake Superior parks, like the nearby Pukaskwa, Sleeping Giant or Lake Superior Provincial Park itself, but it is in no way less beautiful or less exciting than its more well-known neighbours. We made Neys one of the pit stops on our return trip from Quetico and in the end we regretted not being able to stay longer to explore everything the park had to offer.
Last week, our family displayed acute symptoms of camping withdrawal disorder: desire to sleep on the hard ground, cravings for slightly burned food prepared over a campfire, constant attempts to block out the noisy city to hear the birds. With the next camping trip two whole weeks away, we knew we couldn’t last that long. We needed our camping fix now. So on Friday night we threw our gear into the back of our car and headed to Killbear.
Humbling is the first word that comes to mind when I think of our canoe trip in Quetico. Our most challenging camping experience so far, it was also exhilarating, spectacular and awe-inspiring but, first and foremost, it was humbling. The couple that we met right after finishing the route echoed our sentiments. As the guy put it, any delusions he may have had about being a tough outdoorsman that never gives up and keeps battling the elements were put to rest. And I have to agree. If I were to pick the most important lesson learned, or rather reinforced, during our Quetico canoe trip, it would be respect for the power of nature.
A few years ago, as I was looking through Wilderness Ontario, a beautiful book of images by photojournalists and explorers Gary and Joanie McGuffin, I came across a picture of a canoe gliding across a vast expanse of a blue lake with a rocky outcrop and a lone pine in the foreground. According to the caption, the picture was taken in Quetico Provincial Park. I didn’t know much about Quetico back then and we were just novice canoeists but I knew I wanted to go there. So imagine my excitement when we finally arrived in this remote northern park on a beautiful August evening.
Gone Camping 