Who knew I’d have to slip into the past to find a dog-friendly destination I could thoroughly enjoy with my favourite travelling companion?

A Viking Introduction

Vikings briefly settled a millennium ago on the tip of Newfoundland’s Northern Peninsula. In existence today, the village of Norstead features re-enactors, who give visitors an extensive idea of daily life during that era in history.

Before entering the settlement, we headed to the restroom, first passing an open door revealing an empty room. A few minutes later, we exited the restroom and almost ran into a group of Vikings as they stood outside the doorway of the previously quiet room. A couple of modern coffee cups reminded me that we hadn’t quite reached the past yet. We squeezed by the group as they were discussing their upcoming day.

Once we paid the entrance fee, we followed a fenced-in ramp that drew us into the Viking era, where appropriately attired men and women went about their day amongst sod buildings and varied pieces of artwork and artifacts.

Wilbur

Our first contact with a member of the community was with Wilbur, the female pig. She and Tessi curiously sniffed each other through a gap in the fence. All would have stayed friendly if Tessi hadn’t suddenly started barking. A frightened Wilbur quickly escaped into her small home. I had to drag Tessi away.

I wonder what she thought of Wilbur. Did Tessi comprehend the pig smelled too much like the delicacy of certain treats previously dined on? We left Wilbur to shake off the unexpected commotion.

Lambi

As we stood in the boathouse by the great ship Snorri, Tessi patiently waited beside me while we listened to Lambi, the village skald, talk in great theatrical detail about the settlement. He later informed me they receive about 30 canine visitors a year and very rarely experience any problems. Once outside again, I paused to photograph Tessi standing in a small Viking boat.

Moving On

At our next stop, her calmness continued as the blacksmith explained the basics of creating and working with iron. Then Tessi and I moved on to quietly observe the silent church interior. I contemplated the uncomfortable looking pews, which were fashioned out of sparse strips of wood. And I was thankful I didn’t have to endure them on a regular basis.

Viking Attention

When we entered the chieftain’s hall, three women, who were casually working on projects, gushed over Tessi, perking her up. Like almost any dog, my girl adores attention. She was invited to sit on the chieftain’s prominent chair. While I took her picture, she regally observed her temporary domain. As a reward for posing, she gulped the dried berries one of the women offered. I think she more likely indulged Tessi just for being cute.

More Temptation

Once her short-term reign ended, we wandered outside. We discovered Wilbur wasn’t the only creature on the grounds to stir up Tessi’s predatory instincts. Chickens, with their palette of fancy coloured feathers for which I attempted pictures of, had her persistently straining against her leash. I had to give up on the photography. Whereas Wilbur had made Tessi mostly curious, the chickens meant serious hunting business.

I had to force Tessi away, far from the chickens’ pen. This landed us at the fortuneteller’s tent. Tessi once again quietly waited as the rune stones revealed a bright, but challenging future. I thought about how this fortune affected her also since our lives are strongly intertwined.

A Wander Through Time

Sightseeing finished, we wandered away from the village and meandered along the shoreline full of dark, jagged outcropping. Gradually leaving the past behind, we found ourselves where time appeared non-existent.

Throughout our tour, I had been eyeing a shadow of a hill as it steadily revealed itself out of dissipating fog. We followed a worn footpath up its slope. An abundance of spongy vegetation and cracks in the protruding rocks kept Tessi’s nose on the move. Tiny ghost islands offshore faded in and out of fog, keeping my senses intrigued. At the top of the hill, I observed the past where the village inhabitants continued their daily duties and entertained visitors of my present. In the other direction, seagulls swept by us on invisible air currents over the sea with its gentle waves.

I was lingering with appreciation of the raw beauty around me, when I noticed Tessi looking at me, her head cocked at an angle, as if to ask, “Are you coming?” Time moves on, and I guess it was including us in its progress. The future was calling us home.

For More Info

• Explore Newfoundland and Labrador; Norstead 
• Norstead 

 (c) Cheryl Smyth, 2012

Important Start to the Day

Prior to looking for the Two Rivers Trail, we enjoyed our coffees under the watchful eyes of a moose head in the Lake of Two Rivers Store. The head intrigued me, especially its covering of fake fur. With my caffeine addiction satisfied, however, we left the head behind to face the outdoors, where drizzle attempted to soak the land.

What’s a Little Rain?

I decided my weatherproof jacket would protect me enough, and luckily, Tessi doesn’t care about weather as long as she is exploring the many teasing smells nature offers. I wouldn’t have to worry about losing Helen, who walked behind us in the bright orange raincoat she had acquired from her mother, and pushing ahead of her, little Missy has proven her toughness on our challenging excursions.

Wet, Wet, Wet

As we followed the gentle terrain, the sprinkle gradually changed into a deluge. Before long, I imagined we had lost the trail and were walking in a small creek as the water raced down the easy slope, weaving back and forth around tree roots and protruding rocks and, in some parts, covering our feet up to our ankles. It was the trail, nevertheless, and we continued to slog along it. My lightweight, cotton pants soon became uncomfortably soaked. I’d be relieved to complete the approximate 2 km (1.3 mi) loop.

Only the jingle of the bear bell attached to my adjustable jacket cuff interrupted the spattering around us. I had dug out the bell in hopes its noise would mask the stench of our fear of any presence of bears. I don’t know if they wander in inhospitable weather, but I wanted to provide ample warning since we were the only people around.

Nothing tempted me to linger in our walk until we arrived at a lookout, where I noticed the rock and vegetation’s colours glistening intensely, as tends to happen when objects get wet. I pulled out my waterproof compact camera for some shots, but found it difficult to keep the lens clear. Unlike my pictures of the misty trees, the resulting creative blur generally proved interestingly artistic.

At one point, I turned around to check on a normally enthusiastic Missy. I discovered an unimpressed drowned rat in her place. I tucked her inside my jacket to try to warm her up a bit. We only succeeded in soaking my shirt, which had already been damp from frequently freeing my camera for shots.

From what I’ve read, the lookout’s edge hovers over the North Madawaska River. I was unwilling to move close enough on the wet, slippery rock to confirm the river’s existence. The rivulets on the trail would be the only ground water we would see.

At the trailhead, I found the trail guide in my backpack had turned soggy. After another coin offering, I replaced it with a dry one. I wanted to be able to clearly read about the changes in the Algonquin forests it discusses.

Tent Turned Wading Pool

Back at our campsite, I opened the flap to my tent to find pools of water surrounding the mattress. So much for the waterproofing I’d given the tent the year before. Helen found puddles too, but her small tent necessitated less clean up. We spent the next while sponging up water with our towels under a quiet, but overcast sky.

Soon we were relaxing in our lawn chairs. Tessi slept under the picnic table and Missy, dressed in her pretty blue shirt, lay curled up on Helen’s lap. The sun would peak out now and again, but not enough to dry the wet clothes and towels adorning our lot.

We waited for our cans of soup to heat up in my portable food warmer. I borrowed it from Wayne, who uses it when away in his truck. The warmer has just enough room for two cans and plugs into the cigarette lighter receptacle in the car. Sadly, neither Helen nor I have ever started a camp fire. I always left this task to Wayne during our camping trips years ago. (At home we have a camp stove tucked away—somewhere.)

While we waited, I worked on my journal entries. Occasionally, my writings were interrupted with discussions of our next hike and occasional glances at the tops of the surrounding tall, tall pine trees dancing in random breezes. Bushes fill in the area around the base of the trees and the ground is covered in sand. According to Helen, sand helps absorb the water. I guess I should have been happy with that reasoning since my tent might have been totally flooded otherwise. The sand gets into everything, however, and having pine needles mixed in just added to the mess.

Next Hike

We debated on joining an organized tour on the Spruce Bog Boardwalk Trail, but our food wasn’t heated sufficiently for us to eat and make it for the 2:00 meet up time. My food warmer works well, albeit slowly. We decided instead to tackle the Beaver Pond Trail on our own.

We would see a variety of scenery, yet the trail would meander all over—or it would feel like it. I would be surprised to learn afterwards it was roughly the same length of the previous two we had tackled. Fortunately, during the duration of our hike we would stay dry and actually be granted bits of sunshine out of the mostly clouded sky.

I love rain. Its patter on the ground or off a roof or tent quiets my soul. It refreshes the air and offers tranquility. I don’t know too many people who feel this way. On the Two Rivers Trail, though, I found my limit in improper attire, a downpour and no warm house with a dryer to return to. 

For More Info

• Algonquin Park; Two Rivers Trail 
• Algonquin Park; Two Rivers Store 

  (c) Cheryl Smyth, 2012

 Algonquin story will be continued in Beavers and Wolves.

Introduction to the Park

The four of us (Helen, Missy, Tessi, and I) arrived at Algonquin Park late in the afternoon. I’m impressed with how organized the park is. Markers in kilometre intervals are set up along the only highway. The corresponding kilometre for each trail, camping area, and store is indicated on park maps. I had reserved a site for us at Kearney Lake Campground, located at Kilometre 36.5.

Bears must be a big issue in every measurable section in the park. We received a detailed write-up about the very real presence of them, including what characteristics they may show, and how to react to each one. Plus signs are posted all over. I’ve often camped in bear country, but never anywhere providing such explicit detail about the creatures. All this information generated a bit of fear in Helen and me. We would find ourselves regularly looking over our shoulders throughout the weekend as we explored several of the variety of trails offered.

Another Climb

By the time we set up camp, we figured we could successfully hike the short Lookout Trail—about a 2 km (1.2 mi) loop—before the onset of darkness. We located it nearby at Kilometre 39.7. The climb was steep, once again reminding me how much I needed to work on my climbing endurance. The park planners were considerate to plant a bench conveniently where the human components of our group became quite winded. Any write-ups about the pathway state it is a difficult one.

At the trailhead, I discovered a stack of information booklets discussing the geology of the park. Living in an area of the country not featuring much rock, I’m obsessed with places where it’s prominent. Algonquin didn’t disappoint me.

Each trail offers these written guides highlighting a certain aspect of it. The pages are organized into numbered sections filled with detail that correspond with numbered posts along the route.

Teenagers raced back and forth as we slogged up the slope. Their youthful enthusiasm was catching. I delighted in their raw energy as they livened up our hike.

Yet, once we reached the lookout area, I ignored them, as I was enthralled by the magnificent view of the treed landscape opening briefly to a distant vista of Lake of Two Rivers. The rounded outcropping softened what would be a sharp edge; however, it was still steeper in some sections than others.

I kept Tessi leashed as per the usual reason: For the presence of wildlife, especially bears, though I imagine all the people around had scared them off. In which case, a tethered Tessi was in consideration for those people. Besides, the rules of the park say dogs must be leashed.

We managed to return to our campsite just before darkness took over.

Our First Night’s Sleep

For the first part of the night, Tessi and I slept well. Then the roar of thunder and the bright flash of lightning shattered the night and our peace. Tessi started whining and I became unsure about staying in the tent. (A recent TVO program about quirky lightning strikes worsened my alarm.) I listened for any movement outside, but didn’t hear a peep. Even silence emanated from Helen’s tent. So I scooped a riled Tessi into my arms and we cuddled as the storm carried on around us.

My fear soon overwhelmed me. I kept thinking about the tall, thin, lightning rod-style pines bordering our site, so I moved us to the car. From what I could see, only I ventured a move to a safer spot. But I felt better for it, though physical comfort was the trade-off for emotional comfort. When the storm finally moved on, we returned to our cloth shelter. (In an article I would read later, I would confirm a tent, surrounded by trees, is definitely not a safe place during a storm.)

Morning revealed a few puddles inside. Helen mentioned since she was set up on a bit of a slope, she had spent much of the night repeatedly pulling herself back up from a puddle to a drier section.

I piled my clothes up on my blowup mattress, thinking I’d deal with the water later. Thoughts of a coffee and our next hike were distracting me. We came across the Two Rivers store, which housed a restaurant selling blessed coffee.

We would enjoy another lookout on our next hike, though we would stay far from its wet edge. Rain would prove to be our next challenge.

For More Info

• Algonquin Park Recreational Activities
• Bears in Algonquin 

 (c) Cheryl Smyth, 2012

 Algonquin story is continued in Rivulets Only.

Helen exhausted, not just from the morning hike, but in general from not sleeping well, chose to retire early for the night. Since Tessi and I were going to be on our own, I informed Helen of my plans and noted the time; therefore, she could send out rescuers if we didn’t return in an hour or so.

A Hint of Grandeur

We left her reading her book with Missy snuggled into her, and followed the sign I had noticed earlier. It led us through an open grassy area, where I found a few tents set up off to the side. I spotted a wisp of mountain scenery over the trees spread out in front of us. While I urgently searched for a way that would grant me enjoyment of a full view, Tessi excitedly breathed in new scents.

A minute later, I discovered a stairway and path through the wooded stretch, which led us to a panoramic view of the mountains and the pond.

A Masterful Piece of Art

The mountains are draped in colours of green, gray, and orangey-brown. I had the impression of modern, abstract art; however, this piece of art had been millions of years in its creation. The green vegetation exists amongst the gray rock and the orangey-brown peridotite—a substance rich in iron and magnesium.

I devoured the scenery by taking a myriad of pictures from close-ups of those artistic patterns to wide angles, which included the immediate shoreline at my feet, some with Tessi as she sniffed at the foliage there. I had let her free, keeping her away from the heavily treed expanse, just in case of any lurking bears. We roamed only for about a half hour in the general area, before heading back to the campsite. My adventurous streak had abandoned me on Partridgeberry Hill and I was satisfied with this beauty nearby.

Sunset

Later, as the evening wore on and the sun was departing for another day, Tessi and I returned to the open camp area surrounded by the trees that shared only the wisp of mountain scenery. Helen had been sleeping, so no one knew of our whereabouts. I didn’t want to venture far.

I found an opening that offered a glimpse of mountain and water, both basking in a reddish glow from the setting sun. I was able to capture the vividness on my camera beautifully. It was an ending to another spectacular day in Newfoundland.

For More Info

• Dogs and bears
• Trout River Campground
• My story A Brief Visit to Mars explains peridotite a little further 

 (c) Cheryl Smyth, 2012

Our plans for the weekend included the usual hiking and exploring. I hadn’t really envisioned a fishing adventure for Tessi. Helen and I, along with the girls—Tessi and Missy—had been invited to visit the country home of Patty and Doug, who rent rooms during the summer months to students of the Haliburton School of the Arts. We met the couple, and Oliver, their Cavalier King Charles spaniel, at PawsWay in Toronto a couple of years ago.

Exploring and Visiting

Our first outing upon arrival started off in the woods surrounding their house. Doug and his neighbours keep trails cleared and identified by coloured blazes. The dogs enjoyed freedom away from their leashes and I enjoyed the fresh northern air. The overcast sky offered a quiet, peaceful feeling disturbed only by black flies, which didn’t bother my repellent-protected skin.

After stretching our legs, we followed the neighbouring easement to the couple’s dock on Kashagawigamog Lake, where we waited for Patty, who was out kayaking. Having driven the whole trip, I felt entitled to happily plunk myself on the single lounging chair available. (For the record, Helen is always willing to take her turn at the wheel, which sometimes she does when I need a break. Generally, I don’t mind driving.) Oliver hopped up to lie beside me. Soon Missy made a place for herself on my lap. Tessi ignored us, as she investigated the gaps in the dock and over its edge.

The lake displayed the typical traits of northern water bodies. I observed a shoreline of trees, sporadically dotted with homes and cottages, docks and boats. Helen, relaxed in a lawn chair beside me, and Doug, at home in his motorboat floating by the dock, were deep in conversation. I caught only a few words as I lost myself in the serenity of the encircling view.

We spent a quiet evening enjoying the pleasant weather in the couple’s backyard beside the garden and pond, where water gurgled into a mini-waterfall and surged straight up from a couple of spouts in the middle. We watched Tessi move around its rocky edge. She’d stop occasionally and balance precariously, intent on her search. While listening to the conversation of my evening companions, I glimpsed Tessi falling in. Though a little stunned, she pulled herself back onto the rocks and resumed her quest.

Haliburton

The next afternoon found us back in the car following Patty into Haliburton. She led us to an old caboose, which housed the visitor’s center, where we stocked up on travel brochures. I asked the woman working if dogs are allowed inside, but because of the small space I wasn’t surprised when she said no.

Skyline Lookout

Patty wanted to show us the panorama from the Skyline Lookout before leaving us to run her errands. As we gazed down at the town of Haliburton and the vast forested hills surrounding it, we ended up chatting dog talk with other visitors, who were also in the company of their four-legged friends.

Our hosts had mentioned Buttermilk Falls when I asked if there are any waterfalls in the vicinity. When we were ready to leave the lookout, Patty sent us on our way in the direction we needed to go to find the falls. We were left on our own to untangle the curvy, hilly roads of Haliburton County and area.

Buttermilk Falls

We found the sign for Buttermilk Falls on highway 35, between Minden and Dorset. Not seeing much of interest from the road, we parked in the accessible lot and went in search of a trail in hopes of a compelling discovery. A side trail revealed a concrete retaining wall guiding a rush of water from Hall’s Lake down a gentle slope. The barrier soon ended, freeing up an open view. We could walk on the flat bedrock right up to the fast flowing rapids. This is a place where you might want to be cautious in unleashing a dog since the surge of water would likely be powerful enough to whisk a smaller animal away.

Hawk Lake Log Chute

Doug had recommended we check out Hawk Lake Log Chute, which is near Buttermilk Falls. The log chute is the last of its kind in Ontario. We had to maneuver some back roads to find it. No logs barreled down the chute, just the water they would have once rode on.

The beauty of the forest beyond the bridge traversing the chute urged me forward. Once there, finding a trail on the somewhat steep rocky hill we faced was tricky. Leaves and other natural paraphernalia littered the ground where roots protruded. It was nature’s painting—all in greens, browns, and reddish tones. Like the bear in the children’s song, I wanted to climb to see what I could see. (I found myself humming the tune as we ascended.) Soon, we spotted a few blue blazes decorating the tree trunks.

Following the blazes proved a challenge. I wondered if someone placed them there as a joke, since the trail listing stated “easy to moderate” on the map. We inched ourselves up by clutching the rocks and tree roots. Once the land flattened, its scenery changed to a monotonous pattern of trees. I saw what I could see, so we turned back. We were unprepared for a long hike anyway.

As we climbed back down the hill, I experienced a bit of an accident. No, Tessi didn’t wrench me down. Nor did I trip and fall. When Tessi suddenly tugged, the skin near the palm of my hand was pinched when it got caught under the button of the extendable leash. A tiny blood blister decorated my hand for a week or so. Writing by hand proved difficult for a few days.

Food

Back on the highway, we came across a small building called the Chip Shop, which features gluttonous offerings of takeout fish and chips. Yummy. Helen and I decided to split a halibut and fries meal. As I entered the building, I fit myself in the crowd. Fortunately, most of the people had ordered and the servers were speedy. We were soon eating in the car while enjoying the wooded surroundings. The dogs sitting eagerly in the backseat were intoxicated by the smell. We fell for the hope in their eyes with offers of tidbits. We all agreed the meal was delicious.

Resume Fishing

As the evening made its appearance, Tessi resumed her station at the pond. Even though we could easily see it from the kitchen, we were careful to make sure someone stayed out there in case any bears appeared, but somehow we all ended up inside. I realized this when I returned to the pond to find Tessi alone and wet. She must have fallen in again; yet, nobody had seen it.

At one point, I noticed her grabbing a fish and then dropping it. I knew it was dead as I watched it float below her. I told Helen I would likely owe Doug a bag of goldfish at the end of our stay. He seemed unconcerned, however, when I confessed. He reasoned that at night blue herons stab their beaks into his fish anyway.

Stormy Night

After a sleepless night due to Tessi whining and pacing because of a raging thunderstorm, calm returned to her and the sky. She fell into a peaceful sleep—storm forgotten. By this time, the pleasant sunlit morning successfully tempted me out of bed to greet it.

In the garden, we relaxed and Tessi fished for the first part of the morning. Later, Helen and I took the three dogs for a final walk through the woods, while Patty and Doug organized their day.

A Short Kayaking Adventure

I decided to take Patty up on her offer to let me try kayaking—something I had never attempted. Once we reached the dock, the sky darkened again and the wind picked up. I knew this adventure would be brief regardless of the weather; I wanted to be heading home by noon.

Doug offered a shoulder for me to lean on while I carefully climbed into his kayak—a challenge as I quickly realized how unstable an empty one is. Patty had already set off in hers. I left a forlorn Tessi in Helen’s care. (She would later show me the video she took of Tessi loudly whining as I paddled away.) They and the rest of the crew piled into the motorboat to follow us.

I love kayaking! Even with the added resistance of small waves and wind, I still found it very easy. I’d like to find my own kayak that includes extra space for Tessi.

We didn’t paddle far though before thunder erupted again. We quickly made our way back to the dock, where Tessi excitedly welcomed me. Her boat riding experience is minimal; yet, Helen said she stayed put after I left.

By the time we returned to the house, we were due to leave. In the end, Tessi had just caught the one fish—I think. She sure enjoyed herself. If she were able, she would probably tell me that this trip ranked high on her list of favourites.

For More Info

• PawsWay
• Buttermilk Falls www.start.ca/users/mharris/waterfalls/buttermilk-falls–kennisis-.html and http://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/WM45MA_Buttermilk_Falls_Haliburton
• Hawk Lake Log Chute 
• Haliburton School of the Arts 

 (c) Cheryl Smyth, 2012

Click on the Facebook icon above to see more pictures of this trip.

1. Pets have to stay in the passenger’s vehicle during the ferry ride from Cape Breton Island to Newfoundland. No one is permitted to visit them during the voyage WHATSOEVER. (There is the option of leaving your dog in a crate in the kennel room, but after investigating it during our crossing, I’m glad I chose my car. Besides, our pets are more comfortable in familiar surroundings.) We had previously bought a couple of Adjustable Pet Window Guards at Princess Auto. We could then safely leave the windows open for the dogs.
2. For those of us used to our dogs drinking from lakes, rivers, and any other natural water source, we have to remember to include water on outdoor activities involving the salty ocean. (I never thought of this since I’ve always lived by freshwater sources. When Tessi didn’t drink from the water at the first seashore we stopped at, it took me a few minutes to figure out why.)
3. We excitedly spotted a moose beside a road we were travelling on, but we only caught a glimpse because Tessi immediately started barking, scaring the large animal away. (None of us had ever set eyes on a moose before, as they don’t exist in our southern Ontario countryside.)
4. There aren’t any off-leash parks outside of the major urban centres, so I had to give Tessi freedom whenever possible since she’s accustomed to a certain amount. Fortunately, we came across many spots empty of people. Early mornings also helped. We had a lot of outdoor spaces to ourselves before they became clogged with other visitors.
5. Dogs are usually expected to be leashed in provincial parks, definitely at the campgrounds we stayed at. Both dogs were always chained to a picnic table – the first tree I tried was sticky with sap – or were leashed when walking. In Arches Provincial Park, a day use only park, there were a lot of people busy in the arches vicinity. We wandered down the rocky shoreline a bit, where it was quiet and Tessi couldn’t bother anyone. I chanced letting her loose there.
6. When we first arrived at Norstead, the Viking village in L’Anse aux Meadows, I was told leashed dogs are allowed. I was pleased to find they are welcome inside the buildings, as well as outside. Furthermore, I was informed that our pets could run free on an open shoreline on the other side of the village boundary since it’s usually quiet.
7. Dogs are allowed on the Rose Blanche Lighthouse grounds, but not inside the building itself.
8. Dogs are not permitted on any of the Bontours boat tours, which operate within Gros Morne National Park. (I was disappointed; I would have really liked to have experienced the Western Brook Pond tour.)
9. There are no snakes, skunks, or poison ivy plants to bother you or your pet. It is, however, bear country, so appropriate caution must be taken. (We didn’t see any bears; nevertheless, I only freed Tessi in open areas, where I could see the land around us.)
10. We alternated between camping, motels, and a B&B for our overnight stays. Dogs were allowed in the campgrounds; however, most of the indoor accommodations allowing pets charged an extra $10 per dog.

Important Note:

Please keep in mind, when letting your dog loose that he or she should have excellent callback. Many of the places I freed Tessi, I only did so because she listens to my commands.

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2010

Where is Our Mars?

Parking and the trailhead sit off route 431 between the Discovery Centre and Trout River. We headed out early to avoid the tourist rush. A thinly clouded sky provided a comfortable walk. Only our footfalls and a whisper of a breeze interrupted the vast silence.

The forlorn landscape drew us, and our leashed dogs, into its otherworldly existence. I could easily imagine we travelled all the way to Mars; yet, we merely stood 4 km (2.5 mi) away from the climb of the day before. Reminding us of our earthly location, in addition to the meager offering of vegetation, was civilization in the form of the nearby highway and its accompanying hydro lines.

Peridotite is the name of the substance covering this region. It is rich in iron and magnesium, having been thrust up eons ago from the mantle of the earth. The colour results from surface oxidation.

Fight for Life

Chiseled jagged rock patterns stood out amongst the scree and detritus layering the slopes skirting the trail. The bushes and trees scattered around us looked like they have been fighting a constant battle to survive their harsh reality, with some bare branches as evidence of the battle lost. Trailing shrubs, such as the ground juniper, lie like tentacles reaching for sustenance. We came across assorted flowers, including the pitcher plant, all looking pretty against the starkness.

I was sent this information from Parks Canada: “These junipers are actually some of the oldest plants in the Tablelands, with some living to be up to 300 years old! As ice and grit have damaged its bark and disrupted the flow of water and nutrients, the shrub is indeed struggling to survive and will grow much slower.”

There’s Water in These Barren Lands

We passed over several small streams carving their way through the tough rock. At one point a narrow waterfall rushed down the hillside. Unfortunately, the hydro lines altered their route from hugging the highway to stretch across our view of the waterfall, cutting it in half-a frustrating occurrence for photographers.

Occasionally, I allowed Tessi a bit of untethered freedom, though I kept the durations brief. The bushes were small enough for her to stay in sight and I could easily see there were no loitering large creatures. She blended in quite well with the rocks because of her fur of the same colour. (From later research, I would learn that visitors are to stay on the path to protect

plant growth. Of course, the fact we were still in the park meant dogs are to be kept leashed anyway.)

A Boardwalk to Amazing

Eventually a boardwalk overtook the dirt trail. At the end, a lookout platform in Winterhouse Brook Canyon awarded us a 180 degree majestic view of mountains. I spent a bit of time taking pictures of a cascade beside the boardwalk before stopping to appreciate the scenery so impressive, leaving me feeling insignificant in its presence. Helen and Missy had already started heading back leaving Tessi and me alone in this magnificence.

We were fortunate to experience this version of Mars by ourselves, not running into anyone until our return walk. By the time we reached the parking lot, vehicles and the onslaught of people filled its capacity, which took away from the unworldly feel of the Tablelands and reminded us of our existence on Earth.

For More Info

• Tablelands
• Gross Morne National Park

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2011

“Like” my new TC Travels page on Facebook and see more pictures of our visit to the Tablelands

As is typical in parks, the dogs were to be leashed. I was agreeable to following the rule, considering we would be heading through forested sections, where unseen wildlife, including bears, exists. (If Tessi chased a bear, eventually she’d run back to me, likely with the bear following.)

A Steep Trail and a Hot Sun

The Lookout Trail starts on the backside of the Discovery Centre, heads into the forest right away and climbs up Partridgeberry Hill, which seemed like a mountain to me. I anxiously looked forward to the appearance of the boardwalk and its view. The steep trail just kept ascending. Occasionally, we rested under the leafy canopy. When we stopped in an unsheltered area, I turned around only to be startled by the lovely vision of Bonne Bay below us.

Another open area revealed a short boardwalk and the view of the orange-brown terrain of the Tableland Mountains I had been looking forward to. When a man and woman appeared behind us, we encouraged them to pass. Noticing how muscular the guy was, I realized they’d easily leave us behind.

By this time it occurred to me that we must be on our way to the summit, especially when the route continued after the boardwalk. For some reason, I thought maybe the trail looped there.

In the open, the sun radiated its heat, making me uncomfortably hot. It would be the only time on this island I would feel the warmth to that extent. A sign at the trailhead suggests taking a jacket, as the temperature is usually chillier at the top. An extra layer of clothing proved unnecessary that day.

Though I quit smoking over 20 years ago, upward climbing still stresses my lungs. Watching little Missy scale the incline herself, without Helen carrying her at all, inspired me to trudge on.

When I eventually spotted an expanse of blue sky on the elevated horizon, I was relieved. Hurray, we were almost there!

At one point, I stepped down off the trail to wet my head from a tea-coloured creek we crossed over, in an effort to cool myself off. While there, Helen handed Missy to me to see if she needed refreshment. We laughed as she splayed her legs out and laid her belly in the water.

The Meadow

When we finally reached the skyline, I was disappointed to see another section to traverse. In my sourness, I underappreciated the new scenery’s beauty-until a glimpse at my first pitcher plant, which is Newfoundland’s official flower. A few of the burgundy blooms were growing amid lush foliage on a plateau of wet meadow. The widened view of the bay fringed by mountains and blue sky served as a backdrop.

A trio of women passed us. I felt somewhat ashamed when I found out they were “taking a break” from their provincial bicycling trip to climb this “hill.” They were to return to their bikes and the road afterwards.

We followed the boardwalk, which crossed over the meadow, before reaching a short, steep scramble to a lookout platform marking the hill’s crest.

Panorama

A gorgeous 360 degree panorama opened up from the vistas revealed during our ascent. We reveled in the excellent views of Bonne Bay against the backdrop of the Long Range Mountains and Gros Morne Mountain in one direction, and the Tablelands in the other.

Helen spotted a moose and calf far below us on the grassy slope. After attempting to take pictures of the pair, which were too far away for a decent photo, I happily relaxed on the platform’s bleacher-like seats and breathed the fresh, cool, and comfortable air.

We chatted with others as they arrived and then moved on. The exception was one young couple exuding an aura of distain. They looked well organized in their properly fitted backpacks and expensive looking outdoor apparel. Silence answered our greetings. We looked like slobs compared to them; yet, we were amiable-a more important trait in my opinion.

A Quick Descent

From the platform, we spotted another trail, which I assumed must be the mysterious loop. We didn’t bother exploring it, since my empty water bottle suggested it was time to head down.

Though descending is typically easier, I just wanted to be finished. Tessi took my eagerness as a cue to switch to high gear. She practically dragged me along. I wanted to blame her for a couple of minor falls I suffered; however, they came from muddy patches I encountered too quickly.

Once back in driving mode, my leg shook whenever I moved it between gas pedal and brake. The view had been amazing though and well worth the effort. Yes, I would make the climb again without hesitation.

For more info:

• Gros Morne National Park hiking
• The pitcher plant 

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2011

“Like” my new TC Travels page on Facebook and see more pictures of our Lookout Trail climb.

We came across this issue while exploring the Hopewell Rocks on the Bay of Fundy in New Brunswick. Having lived all my life in the Great Lakes region of our country, I’ve only visited the seacoast a few times, this being the first with a dog. I never considered the water’s undrinkable aspect.

At the Hopewell Rocks, a ramble among the towering flowerpot formations on the ocean floor at low tide will reveal what the sea has left behind. When the tide is in, the water can rise over 14 m (40 ft). The area boasts one of the highest tidal systems in the world.

Busy Destination

The entranceway gate area during this sunny summer morning pulsed with people. Quite a few dogs—all leashed as per the rules—accompanied them. The rules are posted on the board at the gate and are the ones generally expressed at tourists’ destinations. The website also lists pet policies.

Once we paid and entered, I left Tessi with Helen and Missy to take a look in the gift shop in the Interpretive Centre, where dogs aren’t allowed. Not seeing anything in particular amongst the myriad of mementos, I rejoined my travelling companions and we headed on.

A ten minute walk through the woods would lead us to a staircase. This would be our transit to an unfamiliar world—the ocean floor. The woods, though steady with people, filled me with serenity. The cool air exuded crisp freshness. Having spent too much time in the car, Tessi yanked me along, anxious to explore the unfamiliar landscape. Garbage pails, which are much appreciated for poop-filled bags, were placed along the way.

When we arrived at the stairs, we found them stuffed with people. The descent was awkward with Tessi. Her distress led her to push through the throng. I found it difficult to be considerate. Thankfully, her presence was generally ignored. At least she had an easy time with most of the steps, which were solid, except for the bottom two flights. They were comprised of the grating she hates.

Once we reached the bottom, everyone spread out and the world opened up providing us with breathing room. The twisted and distorted ruddy-brown flowerpot-like formations around us boasted many shapes and contours, but most of them balance on wide bases, tapering in through the middle then widening out again. Cracks and striations give them unusual patterns. Rockweed adorns parts of their surfaces and trees sprout out of their tops. In some spots, the formations stand alone. Groups of them gather in sections and along the cliff. Looking closely at the material they are made of, it appeared concentrated dirt had cemented stones and pebbles of all shapes and forms together.

A World of Ruddy-Brown Mud

As we headed to the shoreline, the thick mud sucked and squished at our feet in an attempt to imprison them. I had noticed the warning for footwear on the sign outside the gate and am glad I heeded it by wearing my heavy sandals.

During one of our brief stops for picture taking, a young couple attempted to pass us as they struggled through the sludge. Its claim on one of the woman’s flip flops nearly succeeded as I watched her stretch the straps above her foot in an effort to pull the base out. I’m surprised the straps didn’t break. Maybe they did; we moved on leaving her to battle it out. I wonder which won, her or the mud.

After taking many pictures of anything and everything, we finally arrived at the shoreline. While pondering Tessi’s reluctance at drinking, I watched two women step into the water to wash off the grime covering their legs. I wondered if the goo would make a successful spa treatment. Helen had met up with me by then and commented to the ladies on the subject. They offered no response. Just as I realized they likely only spoke French, they talked to each other—in French.

Not accustomed to the world beyond Ontario, my assumption of fellow travellers automatically speaking English would change on this trip. I naturally wanted to comment to others about some spectacular part of the scenery around us; just to have them look at me oddly when I did. Gradually, I would comment less and smile more, all the while wishing I would remember my high school French.

Once realizing there’d be no drinks for the dogs, we continued on. We took many pictures of each other, the dogs, with and of the scenery, while delighting at its uniqueness and grandeur.

The shoreline lacked the bulk of tourists. They were concentrated up in the drier areas, where we eventually headed. We passed huge mounds of rockweed, which upon a closer inspection left me with the impression of plastic beads that could be used for children’s jewelry. In sections, barnacles lay crusted on rocks. Even a brown leafy bloom of kelp weed stranded in the ripples of mud made a pretty picture. Necklaces of rockweed hung off the sides of the formations. I took more pictures in this environment than I had of any other in a long time. The variety of textures around us amazed me. It’s hard to believe it all spends a chunk of each day under water.

We continued to thread our way through the crowds of people. The panorama around us captivated each person in his or her own way. I felt challenged to stay out of the way of cameras aimed at family, scenery, or both. I noticed a few people, including Helen, taking pictures of a girl showing off her grimy legs. So I joined in. I wondered where she and the other two women managed to become so dirty. Our group of four only boasted muddy feet. Cute little Missy looked like she donned ruddy-brown booties.

Before we found out, we felt we had toured far enough and turned back. The driving ahead of us to reach the campsite I had reserved would eat up the rest of the day. Again, keeping an anxious Tessi behaving on the stairs challenged me. At one point, she pushed into a guy, who displayed his annoyance in an unfriendly glance. I could only apologize. I soon lost him in the crowd anyway. Helen easily scooped Missy into her arms for the ascent.

Fresh Water Found

At the top of the stairs, the Low Tide Café offers refreshments. I briefly thought of buying a snack until I considered the lineups. As for water for the dogs, we found a crowded shoe cleaning station. The setup included a hose ready to spew freshwater, if we could get at it. Back at the Interpretive Centre, we found a deserted cleaning station and a dog dish. After I rinsed it out, I filled it up letting the girls lap up a needed drink. Luckily, we hadn’t been below for too long and it hadn’t been too hot. Tessi doesn’t drink a lot anyway; however, Missy likes her refreshment.

For the rest of our trip, Tessi would continue to be disappointed to find the water undrinkable at almost all the shorelines, though we would occasionally discover freshwater lakes and streams. Since we knew the dogs would be challenged for fresh drinking water, Helen and I carried bottled water wherever we hiked after our wander on the ocean floor.

Struggles through mud and quests for fresh water aside, the ocean floor and its towering sculptures left a unique impression on me that will be difficult to replace.

For More Info

• Hopewell Rocks 

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2011

]]> http://cstravelsandpics.ca/2011/08/02/walking-the-ocean-floor-hopewell-cape-new-brunswick/feed/ 0 http://cstravelsandpics.ca/2011/05/31/archway-to-the-gulf-arches-provincial-park/ http://cstravelsandpics.ca/2011/05/31/archway-to-the-gulf-arches-provincial-park/#comments Tue, 31 May 2011 18:50:09 +0000 csmyth http://cstravelsandpics.ca/?p=172 Seaside Visits

Dipping one’s foot in the ocean seems to be the achievement to brag about when travelling to the coast. I’ve never stuck my tootsies in the vast expanse; however, they’ve previously experienced its spirit in several small saltwater bays. Tessi’s only paw-dipping in seawater occurred in the Bay of Fundy in New Brunswick and at Rose Blanche in Newfoundland.

A couple of days after those dips, Helen, Missy, Tessi, and I were travelling northbound on the Viking Trail following the western coast of the island, in the company of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. I was looking forward to submerging my feet in the gulf at the Arches Provincial Park.

The Arches

We slightly passed the sign indicating the turn for the day use only park, almost missing it. From the highway, a short drive led us to the parking lot. The uniqueness of the arches and the warm, sunny day had attracted many visitors, who were spread all over. Cutting into the shoreline in front of us, proudly stood the large limestone structure, which has been pummeled by wind and water over the millennia to fashion its three openings. Its gray-brown surface was spotted with the bright colours of assorted clothing of people climbing. A climb would have been fun, but I didn’t want to risk a broken leg so far from home.

Not Drinkable, but Soothing

Passing by a picnic area, we walked towards the arches, then kept moving farther down the shoreline away from people, so I could let Tessi loose-though we were in a provincial park, meaning she should stay leashed. She had trouble negotiating the cobblestone-size rocks making up the shoreline. Eventually, finding her bearings, she moved towards the water, likely in hopes of a drink. Disappointment showed on her face when she realized another abundant offering undrinkable. She’d have to stick to our bottled source in the car.

I also stumbled across the uneven terrain to sit on one of the small boulders littered about in the water. When I slipped my feet in, I immediately realized how the saltwater unexpectedly, but wonderfully soothed them. They weren’t aching or tired-a problem I’m often plagued with from my job. Maybe my feet held enough memory of painful discomfort to appreciate nature’s magic mix.

Not Such a Clever Idea

Deciding what feels refreshing on my feet, should feel great on my hips, which bother me more and more as I grow older. While Tessi voluntarily stayed back-she had no interest in getting more than her paws wet-I struggled precariously farther into the water on slippery rocks to reach a small boulder with waves washing over it. The water felt much colder on my lower body then it had on my feet. I yelped from the tension as each wave plunged over me. Since I stiffened each time, the salt aspect would in no way soothe me.

After the short attempt, I stood up dripping from my waist down. With Tessi once again tethered, we wandered around the arches for a bit-they weren’t quite as crowded. I received a few strange looks at my wet attire. Before leaving, I made my way back to the car for dry clothes.

Between a plot of skeletal tuckamores, I found a path and a small sign indicating the direction to the restrooms. The room I used only held a pit toilet, but there was enough space to change.

Salty Endings

I was driving when my backside and legs grew more and more itchy. I hadn’t really thought about rinsing the salt off my skin; however, I hadn’t noticed any freshwater to use anyway. Though I suffered for it, I could boast that my tootsies had once again touched seawater.

For more info:

• Provincial Parks, The Arches
• Explore Newfoundland, The Viking Trail 

]]> http://cstravelsandpics.ca/2011/05/31/archway-to-the-gulf-arches-provincial-park/feed/ 0 http://cstravelsandpics.ca/2011/03/14/finding-heaven-in-winter/ http://cstravelsandpics.ca/2011/03/14/finding-heaven-in-winter/#comments Mon, 14 Mar 2011 18:37:12 +0000 csmyth http://cstravelsandpics.ca/?p=167 I found myself with my backside buried in snow. I was staring at my skis and boots in front of my face. Tessi, my dog, was looking down at me.

“Now what?” she seemed to be asking.

We had just had our first major snowfall of the season and a ridge of snow blocked access to the bay from the marsh. Silly me, I thought I’d climb, while on my skis, over the barrier. I’m not a talented skier and immediately fell backwards into the mix of grass and snow. Since I wasn’t hurt, I videotaped my predicament for a laugh later. Tessi patiently waited; thankfully, she didn’t wander off. I faced a moment of panic, when I realized my hands couldn’t find leverage to push myself out of the deep powder below me. The ski poles came to the rescue.

That happened a couple years ago. Winter has once again arrived in our small community off Rondeau Bay. It’s time to dig my cross country skis out, not of the snow, but out of the closet. A sufficient amount of flakes has fallen to blanket the land. Previously, we’ve been only able to walk. Though my experience on the long narrow blades is little, I enjoy the exercise and the freedom over the deep snow they give me.

ATV’s and snowmobiles dash throughout the community, cut paths through the marsh, and crisscross the bay, where they head for or skim around fishing shacks dotted in the distance. Rondeau Bay is a popular place for ice fishing.

I’m grateful for the people who clear the pathways, whether they do it for fun or to create routes to reach their fall hunting spots and winter fishing holes-I imagine it’s a little of each. The pathways offer endless places to explore as we head to the bay. On my way through, I pass by short shrubby grass, lots and lots of cattails, and through reeds so high their feathery tops wave in the breeze way over my head, making me feel like I’m in a tunnel.

Once we approach the marsh’s edge, Tessi runs ahead and bursts onto the icy bay. She heads out to hunt in one of the nearby dirt mounds pushed up through the ice. Sometimes I follow her out, but this time I call her back as I follow the shoreline. She returns to delve into the terrain there in the hopes of finding small creatures. On and off, I catch the jingle of her collar, so I know she’s near.

While on the bay, I look around as I absorb the silence. It’s peace in almost its purest form, matching the gentle flakes as they lightly fall and settle. Brown grasses filling one side of the bay are the only contrast in the flawless white. I appreciate the panorama I observe from where I stand, knowing it’s an area off limits in the warmer weather, when ice slowly melts back to water-I don’t have a canoe or kayak. I feel privileged to take part in a world not normally accessible in our daily walks, when we’re limited to the village streets.

Soon the chilly days will gradually warm up. Rain will bring plenty of water to soak the marsh and its wetland plants. They will grow and claim the space we borrowed, filling it all in, leaving no trace of trodden pathways made. Tessi and I, along with others, will leave it in peace until the air starts to turn cold and freezes the remaining water and ground once again.

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2011

Tessi excitedly darted and sniffed, eager to examine as many bushes and grassy spots as she could, while keeping up with us throughout our walk.

This sounds typical of our outings at home – the running through long grass and next to manicured lawns. To Tessi, though, the smells were likely different than those she’s used to. Plus, the company of a river, in addition to the company of old friends, was a nice change for me.

A Visit with Good Friends

It was a late fall afternoon when Tessi and I travelled a few hours northeast to Drayton, Ontario to visit our friends, Sandy, and her dog, Farley, an English shepherd. Most of the drive involved straight roads following flat land until we turned onto highway 11 leading to the town. Then I was suddenly negotiating winding roads looking over hilly terrain, which I enjoy. I follow a predictably flat landscape at home.

From Sandy’s house, a walk across the road and a climb down a hill takes them to the Conestogo River. A cement lattice-patterned trail filled with grass offers ease of walking. A few members of the neighbourhood generously mow the extended areas meeting the trail once they finish their own lawns.

During our visit, the trees were mostly bare. The terrain, however still showed some touches of colour. The air was cool – we were approaching a warm spell that hadn’t quite arrived yet.

Conestogo Lake Conservation Area Info

Though a public walking area, there is a casualness in letting the dogs loose. We ran into no one. I found the outing more pleasurable than what the nearby Conestogo Lake Conservation Area offers to their animal guests. The strict pet policy states: “Pets are welcome in the park but they must be leashed and under control at all times. Pets are not allowed on the beach or in the swimming areas. Owners are asked to ‘stoop and scoop’. There is a fine for not obeying these regulations. Pit Bulls (sic) owners must follow provincial guidelines.” Otherwise, there are the usual nature park offerings, such as hiking, fishing, and boating, whether for just a day trip or overnight camping.

We enjoyed the hospitality of our hosts for the night and then headed home the next morning. The beginning of a new work week had arrived and Tessi would be back to rummaging in familiar land.

For more info:

• Drayton is located northwest of Waterloo.
• Conestogo Lake Conservation Area www.grandriver.ca/index/document.cfm?Sec=27&Sub1=123&sub2=0

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2011

As we left each curve behind to start a new one, the 45 km drive presented amazing views, revealing rocky contours supporting a variety of unfamiliar plants and small ponds. There was not one tree in sight. Even our concentrated surveillance for any sudden appearance of a moose, an animal much associated with this island, didn’t hinder our fascination of the scenery. The landscape boasted untamed mystery to me, as I am used to soaring trees and a different variety of plants all growing in abundant soil.

The drive to Rose Blanche extended my enthusiastic first impression of Newfoundland, which I had immediately felt on our arrival in Port aux Basques. We were heading to the Rose Blanche Lighthouse-famous for its existence as the only granite lighthouse in Atlantic Canada. The structure was built in 1871 and ran from 1873 to the 1940′s. After it was abandoned it fell into ruins, which led to restoration beginning in 1996. Though I had read it was completed in 1999, we would discover scaffolding attached to one of the walls during our visit.

Nearing the fishing outport of Rose Blanche, I spotted the lighthouse in the distance between two hills, as if it were teasing us to find it from the winding road. The name Rose Blanche comes from a form of the French words “roche blanche” meaning white rock. French migratory fishermen had seen the white quartz on their first approach to shore in the early 1700′s.

The Destination

We took a couple of wrong turns before finding the one leading to the outport. We soon pulled into a U-shaped area surrounded by large solid rock hills. Fronting them were assorted miniature cabins, each painted a different bright colour. While we looked around, several people congregated at a picnic table scattered to their designated buildings. They must have decided it was time to get to work; we were the first visitors to arrive.

Looking at the assorted structures, I realized one held a ticket office. We were to pay $3 each for our lighthouse tour-a bargain I would come to realize, especially with the accompanying scenery.

While I absorbed our surroundings-noting a gift shop, a restaurant, and a couple of empty places-the silence invaded my senses, giving me the sensation of standing in a vacuum.

A passageway indented in one of the hills led us to the other side where a powerful panoramic view of the Cabot Strait with chiseled rock shores opened up to us. The cadence of waves rushed to my ears, filling the silence. Helen mentioned that the dense rock must absorb the sound, keeping it from the parking area.

The Shoreline

We hadn’t traced the pathway for long when I grabbed an opportunity to escape to the shoreline. I let Tessi wander freely there. Once she again found undrinkable saltwater, she kept to the puddles in the dips of the rock in search of prey.

Though she found none, she enjoyed sniffing around. I wandered among bits of sea vegetation –  kelp and seaweed pieces – all looking like plastic.

Helen wanted to rid Missy of the bits of dried mud on her since our adventure at Hopewell Cape in New Brunswick, so they followed us down. Missy detected what was coming and clutched unto Helen’s shoulder, eyes begging me to save her. Before Missy could be dipped into the water, Helen accidently slipped her foot in. If the strait could be counted as the ocean, Helen could now brag that she had placed a foot in the ocean-and her shoe and her sock. She gave up on Missy’s bath.

We rejoined the pathway, which from then on skirted high above the waves, meandering through a carpet of vegetation with outcropping of cracked rock, eventually reaching the lighthouse. We passed small signs explaining some of the plants, such as the starflower and the pale laurel, sprinkled amongst the green.

A few signs warning of dangerous edges interrupted the view. I ignored one sign, where a few rocks at the top leveled out the steepness before slipping to the sea. I have a healthy respect of heights, and this section was hardly sloped. As I sat on the hard rock, my forgotten voice recorder and lens cap in my back pocket almost punctured me, causing me to come to a quick, wobbly stand. A steep edge could have proved dangerous.

Once I emptied my pocket, Tessi and I sat for a bit. I reveled in the scenery so common to the locals who call it home, yet so unique to me. I also contemplated the many shipwrecks lost beneath the waves. In the meantime, Helen continued to the nearby lighthouse.

The Lighthouse

Back on my feet, we continued on to find Missy leashed to the stairs at the building’s entranceway; dogs aren’t allowed inside. I tethered Tessi beside Missy and headed in. I had missed part of the tour. The apologetic guide at the door told me my friend was ahead of me. Before she could say whether or not she would lead me on the tour, I accepted her apology and moved on to meet Helen.

Helen’s guide spoke meticulously and thoroughly in a careful tone. The young woman had just started her job a couple of days before, Helen would tell me later.

I was intrigued by the sixth-order Fresnel lens on display in one of the rooms. Since my discovery of the Cape Croker Lighthouse in Ontario with its beautiful Fresnel lens, I have found an interest in them. Helen, a seamstress, noted three old sewing machines, each placed in a separate room.

Shopping

Back at the small buildings, I strolled through the gift shop. Beyond the generous selection of standard souvenirs, such as key chains, mugs, and t-shirts, the store also sold, on consignment, small photographs and paintings of the area, all nicely mounted. Knitted hats and mitts rounded out the merchandise offered.

After I purchased a keychain for a friend, who collects them and a pen for myself (I am, after all, a writer), and Helen finished her perusal, we once again joined the roller coaster highway to find our next destination.

For more info:

www.roseblanchelighthouse.com

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2010

The first section of the route we were hiking was carpeted in neatly mown grass bordered with a split-rail fence enveloped by trees and bushes. The manicured look gradually turned to a narrowly cut path pinched in by natural growth. It was here we glimpsed a wild turkey and a few small birds as they burst from the bushes ahead of us and flew* away. I had difficulty controlling Tessi. She yanked at her leash in desperation to give chase. Her hunter’s instinct had taken over, crowding out any memory of proper leash behaviour, straining my arm in the process.

On this outing, I had chosen to stay near my southwestern Ontario home, where Tessi and I could explore John E. Pearce Provincial Park and the surrounding area. I turned south at the main intersection in Wallacetown onto Currie Road. (For those travelling the 401, follow exit 149.) About five minutes later, I turned east onto Lakeview Road. We quickly encountered the parking lot of the park’s Spicer Trail and the Backus Page House Museum.

After parking, I scanned a couple of signs, briefly absorbing the information that hiking and hiking with a leashed dog are the indicated activities. I noted there was nothing written about fees.

Carolinian Beauty

We are able to enjoy a variety of animals, plants, and trees in southern Ontario, which are all a part of the Carolinian forest-a few of the trees and plants are common in the Carolinas in the States. Though I’ve always enjoyed nature, I’ve lived with this type all my life; it’s easy for me to take its features for granted. These days, the research I delve into for my writing is teaching me to value my surroundings.

As I revelled in the green surrounding me, I kept Tessi on her leash, though no one was about. I didn’t want her chasing other birds or any other creatures that may suddenly appear. Tramping on the vegetation could destroy it for future visitors.

I appreciated the cover of trees, as the day was already getting hot. We crossed a small creek, which was low on water. Tessi was panting, so I let her free for a drink. I didn’t want to climb the small muddy banks in an effort to lead her to the water. After sniffing through the foliage, she lapped up a mouthful.

I’m not diligent at remembering to bring water for her. She doesn’t drink a lot of it and often refuses what I offer her. Usually when we’re outdoors, we’re close to lakes, ponds or other water sources. She seems to prefer nature’s offering, even if it is muddy, over our chemically altered tap water.

We covered the route in about a half hour. There is an extended .45 km walk connected to the main one. Along this extra section, a couple of signs indicated the status of a third trail, which is often closed. One sign said, “Northern Loop-Open” and “Closed due to wet conditions” was written on the other. I didn’t bother testing the information.

I was surprised when the main trail ended abruptly at the highway. I didn’t want to spend the time hiking back through the forest to my car, because I was interested in exploring other sights in the area.

Across the road from us, an entranceway was labeled with a huge John E. Pearce Provincial Park sign. I suppose I could have continued from where I was, but considering there was a dirt road entering the park, I assumed it was much bigger.

I realized the parking lot for the Spicer Trail wasn’t too far down the highway. On our return after a hot walk on the gravel shoulder, I read over all the signs more closely. I should have read them before our hike, because I found a stack of pamphlets. Though a notice indicates returning the pamphlet after use for others to enjoy-if you are going to toss it anyway, I took one home for future reference.

Great Information Offered

I was impressed with the detailed information it offered. It relates a little history of the park, explains various plants and animals that make their homes there including a few invader species, and it lists 28 types of trees labeled on the trail. I had noticed a couple of the trees, such as the butternut hickory and one of the maples.

After retrieving the car and entering the park, I followed the dirt road that swings through the forest to the backside at the lake. A circular monument dedicated to John E. Pearce greeted us in the parking area. I let Tessi roam freely in the adjoining picnic area while I took pictures of the monument before I called her back to pose in front of it.

Afterwards, I strolled over to see what inspiration for pictures I could find from the scenery below the cliff. Unfortunately, it was fenced off due to an unstable edge. It’s only a short fence, so you may want to watch that your dog doesn’t escape beyond one of its ends. I saw a worn path made by people who had slipped past it. Later, I was told there are a couple of unofficial, challenging routes to the beach.

All I could see between bushes and trees, from the fence, was a sliver of a sandy slope broken up by small sections peaking up into pointed mounds. Deciding it would be easier to drive down to the shoreline instead of following an iffy pathway, I grabbed the car and went in search of Erie Street. Back on Lakeview Road, passing the Currie Road intersection, I kept heading west. Within a couple of minutes, I found the narrow dirt road I was looking for. I followed it toward the lake.

Exploring the Area

As I approached the top of the hill near the road’s end at the Lake Erie shoreline, I passed several vehicles with attached boat trailers parked off to the side. Just as I was overtaking the last of them, I had to scrunch over to make room for a truck ascending the hill. As the truck squeezed by me, the driver yelled a warning not to take the car down. From where all the boats were launched, the ground had softened. He had had a difficult time reaching the top of the hill himself.

Rick, the guy who had offered the warning, was out to introduce his St. Bernard puppy, Bentley, to the lake. The four-month-old was bigger than Tessi. I watched Rick lead Bentley into the water by his leash and wade around for a bit. He seemed to welcome the new sensation effortlessly. Meanwhile, Tessi was able to satisfy her thirst with a big helping of water.

A cement arch sits on the beach. Another piece of cement is hidden in the foliage on the hill. A friend had informed me these pieces were once part of a pier. The structures had been common long ago in a few communities on the shoreline of Lake Erie.

After contemplating the arch, I looked over the vehicles and their trailers sitting on the shoreline. On my walk down the hill, I had noticed among them, a tractor sitting in the water with a boat trailer attached behind it. The tractor, a vehicle normally seen on a field, seemed out of its element in the water.

Other than those sights, the beach was a typical Lake Erie beach-full of sand and stones. I guess I take that for granted too; however, Tessi enjoyed a bit of freedom to sniff around.

A Treat for the Journey Home

On the way home, I stopped at Empire Valley Farms, a roadside market on the Talbot Trail highway selling vegetables, fruit, plants, and a small amount of giftware. Tessi and I enjoyed some of their strawberries on our ride home. I had forgotten how delicious local strawberries are. They were very tasty after having to resort to grocery store produce, which had been shipped in from the States, over the course of the winter. They were also quite refreshing after our heated exploration through the forest and on the beach.

For more info:

• www.ontarioparks.com/english/john.html
• www.backuspagehouse.ca/home.html
• www.empirevalleyfarms.com

*Can a turkey fly? According to several websites, including www.kidzone.ws/animals/turkey.htm, wild turkeys can fly, unlike their domestic cousins.

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2010

As far back as I can remember, the wide ribbon of striking blue water has been a part of my life. While I was growing up, my mother and I would often picnic at one of the parks on its shore. Throughout my adult years, I have visited it from my in-laws’ Pt. Lambton homes. Occasionally, Tessi and I enjoy a drive along its length, where we can casually take in the myriad of sights and sounds it has to offer.

This stretch of water that has been such an enjoyable destination is the 64 km (40 mi.) St. Clair River. It joins Lake St. Clair and Lake Huron; and separates Canada from the United States.

Neither shoreline is blessed with as much nature as some of the places I’ve been. Housing (with docks extending into the water), industry, and other man-made intrusions litter the environment. Yet there are stretches of nature with which to satisfy my soul, and with the astonishing vision of the wide, beautiful river, I’ve always found it a pleasant way to spend a day.

One way to leisurely take in the scenery is from the St. Clair River Trail, a multi-use trail running most (parts are still being worked on) of the river’s length. During my outings, I’ve seen people biking, hiking, and a few walking dogs.

While on one particular drive on the St. Clair Parkway, which follows the river for most of its journey, I had brought a picnic and some writing to work on. Tessi and I stopped at one of the well-maintained scenic parks. Each one presents its own characteristics; some boast floral gardens, others sport children’s playgrounds; most have tiny beaches bordering manicured lawns with picnic tables under elegant trees. These parks are very close to the busy highway, so it’s a good idea to obey the signs stating dogs are to be leashed.

As I was munching my food, I watched the action before me. Traffic on the American shoreline is far enough away to make vehicles look like ants; yet, it was the river’s traffic that interested me. Meanwhile, Tessi was engrossed in a squirrel. She didn’t notice my food or anything else either, until a passing freighter blasted its horn.

On pleasant summer days, recreational boats speed by the slower lake freighters (lakers). Lakers, averaging 213 to 305 m (700 to 1000 ft) long, were manufactured to carry huge shipments throughout the Great Lakes. Watching these giants calmly glide through the water as they carry their bulk cargo offers a unique addition to the St. Clair River experience.

Once Tessi relaxed from the surprise of the horn blast and I was ready to move on, we continued our excursion. I drove through Sombra, where two small ferries spend their days conveying passengers to and from Marine City, Michigan. We travelled through several more picturesque towns, when eventually the highway took us into Sarnia. We first passed through Chemical Valley-a nature lover’s nightmare with its many chemical industries dirtying the air-before reaching the heart of the city.

Dog Park Visit

Once in Sarnia, we detoured to Blackwell Trails Park. Located in the northeast part of the city, the park was built on an old landfill site. There are about three km (almost two mi.) of trails and a small fenced-in leash free zone. At the time of our visit, young trees had been planted along the trails, but not in the dog area. It was just a flat grassy spot with a view of Logan’s Pond off to one side. At least, however, dogs are given a place to run free.

Flurry of Activity

Before heading home, I found the river again at Point Edward Waterfront Park, where the twin Bluewater Bridges run traffic between Ontario and Port Huron, Michigan; and Lake Huron drains into St. Clair River. The park was bustling with activity-boats plying the water, slow moving bumper to bumper traffic on the bridges, a few kids swimming at the river’s edge, and seagulls flying close by with hopes of being fed. The front row of parking spots was filled with vehicles. I noticed a fair amount of people nibbling on fries, which were likely bought at the nearby food stand. My friend, Kristyne, later told me, “When I was in college in Sarnia, that was the thing to do-to get fries from ‘Fries Under the Bridge,’ sit facing the river, and enjoy them (the fries) while watching all the action.”

We took a short stroll, weaving around people, on the walkway bordering the tiered flat stones lining the river’s edge. We were unable to relax on any of the benches dotting the walkway as they were also occupied with people. Tessi, in an effort to reach the seagulls, spent most of the walk yanking on her leash.

Winter

During a winter outing, I found the river trail and parks covered in snow. The trip, however, is still rewarding with the white landscape and icy water. I was still able to walk on the pathway near the bridges, though parts were also snowy. Freight traffic slows for winter; only a few of the lakers make the lonely passage. I’ve never been lucky enough to catch sight of the Coast Guard’s icebreaker, which is sometimes needed when there’s excess ice.

In winter, the evening sun beautifully reflects off the icy river. Many clear evenings throughout the year boast pretty sunsets. Our drive home that picnic-perfect summer day was rewarded with the evening light as it turned the sky into rich colours and darkened the liquid blue ribbon.

For more info:

• The St. Clair River Trail:

www.xcelco.on.ca/~stclair

www.canadatrails.ca/tct/on/stclair.html

• There is a system of trails called the Bluewater Trails in Sarnia. http://www.bluewatertrails.com/parks.html Quote taken from site: “Pets on Trails-Users of City trails and pathways are asked to kindly clean up after their pets and keep them leashed. The fine for not cleaning up after your pet is $200 while the fine for animals not on a leash or running at large is $50.”
• www.boatnerd.com Clicking on “Welcome to Great Lakes Shipping” brings up background information about the lakers.

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2010

The meltwater joins the creek as it gushes off the edge of the escarpment and pounds on the boulders below. Mist explodes in the cool air as the rushing water then threads its way around the snow covered boulders and resumes its journey downstream.

This is what Helen, Tessi, and I discovered at the 21 m (69 ft.) Webster’s Falls when we decided to head out on a spring-like mid-January day. We had had plenty of snow, which was quickly melting and making any waterway potentially hazardous. We were careful to respect nature’s force by staying away from the danger. I kept Tessi on a leash just in case her nose would lead her to slippery spots too close to the water.

We knew we’d have to be careful at the conservation area for that reason, but we didn’t expect to be dealing with trails paved with ice. The only way to reach the falls was to slip and slide our way along. Most of the time, Tessi pulling at the other end of the leash threatened to pull me over, yet at times the tightness of the leash between us helped stabilize me.

We used the fence, where we could view the waterfall from atop the escarpment, to help keep us upright. The challenge began when the trail started to slope downwards and we ran out of fencing.

When we finally arrived at the 123 steps leading to the base of the falls, we found ice mainly lumped in the centre of most of the steps, having melted off the edges. By carefully navigating along the clear spots and grasping the rails, we slowly descended. A section of grated steps gave us some relief.

It was cooler in the gorge. I’m glad I wore a rain resistant jacket, as getting soaked was inevitable from the mist coming off the powerful falls. I set up my tripod on one of the few sections of stable ground peeking through the frozen glaze and struggled to keep my camera dry while I took pictures.

Once we returned to the top, we wandered around the summer picnic grounds; they were much clearer than the trails. After successfully negotiating all the ice, I was walking down a small muddy mound and slid on my butt. At least it hurt less than the hard surface of the walkways would have.

Tews Falls is normally a short hike, maybe about 20 minutes at a steady pace, from Webster’s Falls. The slick trail continued though, extending the hike. We also stopped a lot to admire the gorge, Dundas Peak in the distance and a wisp of the city of Dundas beyond the gorge.

We could safely view Tews Falls, as it plunges 41 m (135 ft.) into the chasm below, from behind guardrails at a couple of lookouts. The usual narrow ribbon of water was showing an impressive mighty strength. Our admiration of the falls was kept to the lookout platforms from above as there are no stairs leading to the bottom.

We could have continued to Dundas Peak (an open ledge), but because of the conditions we deemed it too dangerous. Besides, by the time we made it back to the car at Webster’s Falls, we had had enough of challenging trails.

I was grateful I had worn proper hiking boots. A walking stick may also have been helpful. With care taken, we enjoyed the mild winter day that turned beautiful scenery into extraordinary scenery.

Rock Glen Conservation Area

Since the trip to Webster’s Falls didn’t deter us from exploring the outdoors in winter, we headed to Rock Glen Conservation Area on an overcast fall afternoon to enjoy the 11 m (36 ft.) waterfall located there. We already had a generous amount of snow on this late November day. Instead of having paved ice to contend with, we had to trudge through thigh deep snow. I had to resort to parking on the road; the driveway, parking lot, and trails hadn’t been cleared. Fortunately, we could follow the footsteps visitors had forged before us. The wooden stairs leading to the base of the waterfall were a little better. We just had to be careful.

The conservation area is off the convoluted Rock Glen Road near Arkona, which is about a 45 minute drive from London, depending on the part of the city you are driving from. I was surprised to find Rock Glen Road reasonably clear as the back roads leading to it were sketchy.

Once we reached the bottom of the falls, we found there were only a few slippery spots, which were easy to avoid. Since it had been cold for awhile, the water falling was generous, but not very strong. Icicles adorned the edges and sections throughout the falling water. They were missing the sparkle that only the sun can give them; however, I still achieved interesting pictures.

There was no one around, so I let Tessi wander freely, only stopping her when I wanted to make use of her modeling skills for my camera. A sign indicates dogs are to be leashed. The cliff and sometimes strong currents can be dangerous to our unaware doggy friends. Tessi had no interest in the water; she was too busy sticking her nose in the snow where she could investigate hidden smells.

I knew from warm weather visits that trails, mostly in the form of wooden stairs, continue downstream along both sides of the Ausable River (the fall’s source). We were mostly interested in the waterfall area anyway, so we didn’t bother tromping through the snow that was likely piled along the way. We were just happy to enjoy the outdoors for a couple of hours.

As I sit here working on the final paragraph of this story, I listen to the rain patter on the windows during what is another mild winter day. I’m taken back to the world of ice, snow and raging water. I feel the surge of Webster’s Falls as it forces it’s way over the cliff and continues it’s unending journey downstream.

For more information:

• Webster’s Falls, Tews Falls and Dundas Peak-www.conservationhamilton.ca; click on Spencer Gorge/Webster’s Falls on the left hand side. You can also call 905-628-3060 or e-mail christie@conservationhamilton.ca for additional information
• www.gowaterfalling.com
• Rock Glen Conservation Area http://www.abca.on.ca/conservationlands.php?page=rockglen

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2010

Comments:

Love your stories of Webster Falls and Glen Falls and the lovely pictures. It makes one want to get in the car to view the falls and water.

We did one winter hike in Algonquin – falls and paths laden with ice. It certainly can be dangerous but the beauty of the ice, water and snow was worth every step on the ice.

-Patty

Tessi and I shared the outing with the group Dog Paddling Adventures (DPA), a company Eren and Kathryn Howell created in 2000, when they started with a few canoeing trips that included their dog, Jessie (husky mix), and allowed people to bring their own four-legged friends. Eren says on their website, “I have always appreciated watching the natural world, and the opportunity to share it with our pets brings a whole new perspective to the outdoors.” Eventually interest led the couple to offer hikes where dogs would be able to run free. Jessie not only participates in the outings, she holds the position of Chief Dog Operator.

The Toronto based couple plans and organizes the outings, which take place in the beautiful nature parks north of the city. All people and canines are welcome whether experienced or not (besides the most difficult canoe trips). Even the necessary equipment is provided. Length of excursions varies from one day, up to five days. Whereas canoeing keeps DPA busy throughout the summer, hiking takes up the spring and fall seasons. Winter provides skijoring and snowshoeing adventures with the group.

All these activities are available in the Forks of the Credit Provincial Park, where widely varied terrain consists of trails traversing the Niagara Escarpment and the rolling hills of the Oak Ridges Moraine. A generous variety of trees and vegetation grows in the forests we traipsed through. The park is large enough that we easily accomplished four hours of hiking, while leaving more exploration for another visit.

The fall day I signed us up for turned out to be overcast and fairly mild. I was comfortable in jeans and a couple of layers covered by a light windbreaker. Tessi was contented in her own fur as usual.

Eren greeted us right away in the parking lot and pointed out where everyone was gathering. Once I had my backpack and cameras organized, Tessi and I joined them. Eren went over what our day would entail. A couple of expert guides also joined us – Donna, with Murphy (lab) and Rosie (border collie); and Sarah, with her puppy companion, Logan (husky shepherd mix).

Each of us in the group took turns introducing our dogs and ourselves. Canine hikers ranged in size, age, and breed-from Sierra (American mastiff) to Tala and Cleo (mini schnauzers). Logan, at three months old, was the youngest, whereas some of them, such as Mike (lab cocker mix), are in their teens. The human parents, all varying in age, were mainly women; only a few men were present. Most of the group has participated with Dog Paddling Adventures before.

Liv, Mike’s human mom, is one of DPA’s returning customers. She once lived in Calgary, where she and her dog often enjoyed exploring the mountains. During one of their outings they came upon a young bear at Sunwapta Falls. After stunned stares all around, Liv and her leashed companion headed the other way before finding out if momma bear was wandering the area. Liv now calls the Niagara region home. She hasn’t found too many dog friendly places yet, though she says there are a lot of pretty little parks.

Sarah and I talked about various topics on and off throughout the day. She had also lived in Calgary, mentioning that coyotes are a concern in addition to bears. Now she lives in Toronto, where she enjoys taking Logan to the dog park at The Beaches, a lakeside community and well-known tourist destination in the city.

I had plenty of opportunity to chat to my fellow hikers as the day carried on. Carolyn, April’s (husky shepherd mix) mom, told me how April had been bitten the year before in a Toronto off-leash park. Carolyn had been gradually getting her used to other dogs again, purposely waiting to join a large group such as Dog Paddling Adventures. While Carolyn and I talked, I could tell April was a little anxious around some of the dogs; however, with Carolyn’s guidance she settled into a pleasant walk.

Sierra had her own issues to work through. She had gotten lost on a previous outing, but was soon found. Her mom, Debbie, thought maybe she’d stay close this time. They were together every time I noticed them. The guides, equipped with two-way radios, disperse themselves throughout the group. They can quickly check with one another if anyone or any dog is missing.

Tessi, as usual, zipped around trees, bushes and hikers (human and canine), only pausing to beg for treats and to sniff through foliage. Every so often I’d have to call her back if I lost track of her while I was conversing with others.

A few of the dogs had a romp in a pond we passed. I enjoyed watching the big-bodied Sierra frolicking in the water like a child. Debbie had mentioned she doesn’t swim; however, the water was shallow enough for some fun.

We took a brief break where a couple of trails meet. Eren headed us toward the platform overlooking Credit Falls where, for the first time that day, our group spread out. I tended to lag behind because of my picture taking.

We took a longer break at the platform. If Tessi and I had been on our own, I would have, if possible, headed to the bottom of the falls for some exploration. As if Tessi knows my interests, she started heading that way as we approached the platform. While we appreciated the view from above, Eren handed out snacks consisting of GORP*, candies, and Kool-Aid. He had recommended we bring water for ourselves.

After Eren took a group photograph, we headed on. Having a minor issue with my own camera put me way behind the group. Eren and one of guys walked in sight ahead of me. While Tessi ran back and forth between us, I tried to catch up. Interesting photo opportunities of scenic hills and patterns in the grass kept me behind though.

The trail eventually returned to the Credit River, where soon the woods opened to reveal a grassy field. I paused to take pictures of the dogs running and jumping through the long grass.

We stopped for lunch by the shallow, fast moving river where a wall of trees loomed as a backdrop. The guides set out a selection of food items, such as lunch meat, cheese, and buns on a flat part of a tree. We had our pets leashed as previously requested; no one wanted them eating our hard earned lunch. They had had a lot of goodies along the way, since we had been encouraged to help ourselves to Eren’s stash of dog treats. They were offered the leftovers after we ate.

Our afternoon tour would reveal the park’s steeper climbs. Twenty years of being smoke-free means little when I ascend steep hills. One of our fellow hikers had the right idea by pausing a few times to take pictures, giving her lungs respite from the climb.

We settled into a fairly level hike where our footsteps crunched the dead leaves carpeting the forested floor. Partway through the afternoon, a couple of the dogs were found a little too close to some animal excrement. I saw one dog’s fur was smeared with brown that smelled quite stinky. I felt sorry for the dog’s mom; yet, to be honest, I had that instinctive reaction of relief Tessi had not been the one in the situation. About 10 minutes later I caught Tessi rolling in some excrement herself. The rest of my day would be filled with her repulsing aroma. I tried rinsing her with the rest of my bottled water. I’ve always known to carry water when hiking, but never thought of its uses beyond satisfying thirst. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough to rid her of the icky substance.

As we carried on with our nature tour, hope of a larger water source appearing kept me distracted. Nevertheless, I continued to chat with some of the others, such as Andrea and John Ackroyd while their dogs Amy Jay (border collie) and Daphne Rose (cocker spaniel), along with Tessi, dashed back and forth ahead us. The couple is from Oakville and quite often run their dogs at their local dog park.

On the last leg of our hike, we reached the pond we had encountered earlier in the day. I gave Tessi a rinse with a piece of cloth I happened to have on me.

Back at the parking lot, as I wiped Tessi off with an old towel generously given to me, I thought about how gratifying it had been to have someone else plan an outing. I could enjoy the walk while letting others worry about where we were going. I also appreciated being sent directions beforehand to assist in finding the parking area. I’ve spent too many trips getting lost on my way to parks and in parks.

Time moves on and soon snow will blanket Forks of the Credit Provincial Park and the rest of our countryside. Dog Paddling Adventures will bring out the skis and snowshoes as they abandon themselves to the winter landscape. In no time at all, green will sprout everywhere bringing the heat of summer. People and their canoes, including DPA and its customers, will be found paddling our province’s many rivers. No matter the time of year, a person and his or her canine companion can find interesting ways to enjoy the outdoor scenery.

For more info:

• www.dogpaddlingadventures.com
• http://www.ontarioparks.com/English/fork.html

*The acronym GORP stands for Good Old Raisins and Peanuts, but is informally used to name any mixture of nuts, dried fruits, seeds and such eaten as a high energy snack during outdoor activities such as hiking.

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2009

Pictures Eren had taken during our hike can be found at:

http://www.dogpaddlingadventures.com/trippicsnov152009.html

Cheltenham Badlands, north of Toronto, in the Caledon Hills is an unusual sight in Ontario. The land is made of Queenston shale, turned red from the presence of iron oxide. Greenish bands seen throughout the hills, come from groundwater that has transformed the rock to green iron oxide. The 36 hectare (90 acre) area once existed as farmland. Overgrazing had left the land exposed, resulting in what exists today.

Helen, Tessi, and I arrived at our unusual destination early in the morning. The sun, still low in the sky, was throwing its beautiful lighting across the badlands, emphasizing its convoluted terrain. Tessi enthusiastically jumped around, exploring the landscape while Helen and I took pictures. A loose dog should have reliable call-back since a secondary highway borders the area on one side. I didn’t have to worry about Tessi and the highway. After deciding that the mostly barren hills had little to offer her inquisitive nose, she kept sneaking off towards the woods bordering the other three sides.

Tessi didn’t get muddy, besides her paws, until a 10-week-old lab named A.J. showed up with his owner, Ingrid. They had stopped for a break on their way to Collingwood. A.J. chased Tessi around, covering themselves in red muck in the process. I offered Ingrid a towel; however, she had one with her. While she wiped A.J. off, she commented that she hoped he would snooze during the rest of their journey.

Before leaving ourselves, we had wanted to go for a hike on a trail skirting the badlands. The only one we could find was closed off, which I later found out was because of erosion. When we mentioned to Ingrid our disappointment, she informed us of another one farther up the highway. We would easily see a bridge, which is where the trail traverses the highway.

The Caledon Trailway, once a rail line, is about 36 km (22 miles). After taking pictures from the middle of the overpass of the traffic below, we continued west. Our pink muddy footprints left evidence of our route for the first few steps. The flat landscape made for an easy walk. The trees were still bare, yet the clear sky and warm sun made it a pleasant day to be out.

I let Tessi run free for parts of the walk. A fence stretched along a section of the trail, so I didn’t worry about her wandering too far. I leashed her again when we crossed an old railway bridge spanning a fast running, swollen creek. I not only worried about its swift moving water, but also its depth. I also leashed her when people were nearby, knowing she can be too friendly. We only encountered a few and only a couple of them had dogs. (In my research, I found a website listing comments by people who have used the trail. One comment was a complaint about dogs not on leashes www.canadatrails.ca/tct/on/caledon.html.)

We walked until we came to a crossroad, where we spotted a donkey farm. Before we headed back, Helen, being the animal lover she is, walked over to chat with one of the donkeys that had been watching us.

The day’s outing satisfied our cabin-fevered souls. Though I enjoyed the trail, the unusual rolling hills turned out to be the wonderment of the day. Tessi’s pink-stained fur would fade back to white long before our memories would fade.

For more information:

• www.day-trips.ca/content/cheltenham-badlands
• www.ontariotrails.on.ca/trails-a-z/cheltenham-hills
• www.caledonbrucetrail.org

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2009

In my follow-up research, I had found that the Bruce Trail Conservancy prefers visitors refrain from any activities on the badlands that could harm them, such as riding vehicles, horses or toboggans on the hills and staying off them in wet conditions.

Thinking Daisy and Tessi would have a great deal of energy once we reached London, we stopped at the fenced-in, off-leash area at Greenway Park, just a short walk from where Bark in the Park was being held. Daisy stuck close to Kristyne, occupying herself by sniffing through the grass. She was probably amazed at the presence of odours from the many others of her kind that had been there before her.

When I met up with another friend, Genevieve, and her husband, Dave, who are new doggy parents to 41/2-month-old Rupert, Kristyne took Daisy for a walk through the wooded section. In contrast to Daisy, Rupert, a lab/Australian shepherd mix was running with the other dogs. He eventually came over to us. I barely gave him a pat hello when he ran off to play again. Living in the city, Genevieve is able to take Rupert to the off-leash park often.

Once we decided our four-legged companions had had enough play, we leashed them and strolled over to the event, making our way around pledge earners scattered along the multi-use pathway.

The first tent we approached featured the business A Village Tail, where we were offered sample packs of yummy-looking dog treats. It was the start of the numerous samples the dogs would be given throughout the day.

Two large tents were lined with tables and vendors selling their wares and advertising their businesses. In the first tent, The London Humane Society was selling a variety of merchandise printed with their logo, such as shirts, hats, dog whistles, and more. Most of these items are always available at the shelter. Since the humane society was holding its 25th annual Bark in the Park, they were offering bone-shaped treats with the number 25 baked on top.

Rupert tried stealing one of these special treats he found in front of an older dog lying between two tables. Gen and I managed to pull the tidbit out of Rupert’s mouth. We no sooner retrieved it, when he grabbed it again, making us wrench it out of his mouth once more. The dog’s owner said it was okay for Rupert to have it as there were plenty; however, he has food sensitivities and is not allowed.

We wandered through the second big tent, which was set up the same way as the first. I was talking to two women across a table from me, when a third female popped up between them, putting her paws on the table; eyes immediately checking for anything appetizing. That female was my Tessi. I was surprised her lead reached that far. The two women laughed once they overcame their surprise. I have noticed at dog events that almost everyone is tolerant of minor canine transgressions.

Genevieve and her family headed to the In Dogs We Trust table to talk to trainer Melissa. Rupert is one of her clients. Meanwhile, Kristyne and I took the girls in search of water, as Daisy was thirsty. Before long we found a table where volunteers were filling small Styrofoam bowls with water. Daisy definitely needed refreshment-one of the volunteers kept poring and Daisy kept drinking. Tessi slurped two bowls full herself.

When we returned, we caught up with Genevieve and Dave as they were watching the agility demonstration, where all kinds of dogs ran the course.

As the day progressed, I noticed Daisy isn’t shy with people. She’d walk right up to anyone, presuming she’d be given attention. While we were watching the agility demonstration, Kristyne turned to find Daisy had squeezed in, from behind, between two seated people to say hello.

When Kristyne took Daisy for more water, I stayed to watch the stage entertainment, which showcased pet tricks and dog training demonstrations among other performances. Eventually, after buying a piece of pizza (proceeds were donated), I sat at the end of a row of picnic tables to eat, where the rest of my gang soon joined me. I kept Tessi tethered close to me, while we humans chatted. At one point, I looked down to check her and pulled up an empty collar. She had escaped. After calling her a few times, I found her crawling out from under the other end of the row of picnic tables. She had likely been picking up fallen food. I apologized to the people sitting there, adding an extra apology just in case she had been trying to mooch off them. Again, I was rewarded with an enthusiastic dog tolerant response.

After eating, we headed home. During the drive, the girls had a peaceful, happy sleep; bellies filled with the doggy cookies eaten. They didn’t realize how lucky they were to attend this event that makes money to help fellow canines not so fortunate.

For more information:

• The London Humane Society: www.londonhumanesociety.ca

Some of the vendors we encountered:

• The Barkery www.thebarkery.ca. (sells all natural healthy dog treats). Located in Stratford.
• Dogma London (trendy collars for dogs) www.dogmalondon.com
• The Little m Groom Shoppe (professional pet stylist) melgrooms@sympatico.ca
• A Village Tail (the healthy pet emporium), 519-642-1200, located in London
• Pets R Worth Spoiling www.petsrworthspoiling.com
• Absolutely Creative Training Solutions www.absolutelycreative.ca. Offers pet first aid workshops.
• St. John’s Ambulance Therapy Dog Service
• Always There Pet Care (dog walking, pet sitting, home style boarding) www.alwaystherepetcare.ca
• Dog E Designs (fashion accessories for your dog) www.dog-e-designscanada.com
• Puppy Pawlooza-London’s festival for dogs, August 22, 2009 www.pawlooza.com

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2009

Paying the Fee

Looking forward to our first spring outing, I parked, as the sign instructed, at the Centre for Conservation. The fee of $5.50 per adult had to be paid inside. Since I didn’t notice any signage regarding dogs, I brought Tessi in with me. We walked up to the unoccupied interior window. The staff member, when she appeared, didn’t notice Tessi below. While Helen paid her fee, I scanned a group of information brochures and cards. I must admit, I was distracted by one advertising a photo contest and wasn’t paying attention to Tessi, though I had her tethered closely. She eagerly greeted the newcomers behind us. Thankfully, they like dogs. While I was apologizing, Helen pointed out to me that the staff member had informed her dogs aren’t allowed in the building. I apologized and casually mentioned the lack of signage at the door. I am left wondering if the staff member may have let the presence of my dog slide, had I kept her under control.

Cataract Trail

After learning that the conservation area has an upper and lower falls, we decided to follow the Cataract Trail (via the Switchback Trail) to the upper falls. Most of the trail hugs the steep hill separating it from Twenty Mile Creek-the cascade’s water source. The depth of forest we walked through revealed unique rock formations and twisted tree roots. A couple ahead of us posed their Boston terrier amid the naturally artistic scenery for their camera. The dog sat like a pro, just as Tessi does.

We came upon the ruins of the Woollen Mill. I directed Tessi to sit in the doorway of the one remaining stone wall. As I joined her for a picture, I grabbed her leash in time to prevent pursuit of a chipmunk. Not that she would have had a chance to catch the animal since it scurried up the wall.

Once back on the trail, the roar of the waterfall became as strong as the fragrance of lilacs. A pathway had been worn in the grass away from the beaten trail to meet a fence barricading the abrupt drop in land. Bushes obstructed a vista of the 11 m (35 ft.) falls. A few metres farther, we came to a proper lookout with a stone barricade in place. I was disappointed to be rewarded with only a view of the top edge of the waterfall, though the creek was pleasant to watch as it flowed over layers of rock before plunging below.

The Cataract Trail loops away from the creek at this point and disappears into the forest, eventually reconnecting with the Switchback Trail. Since we spied no one along that part of the route, I let Tessi loose for some freedom. A few minutes later we heard voices. I had enough time to call her back to her leash, when people appeared. Officially, dogs are to be leashed at all times while in the conservation area.

We headed back to the Centre for Conservation, where we had a quick break before finding and crossing the pedestrian bridge, leading us to an open area with several historical buildings. I once again assumed allowing Tessi to accompany us wasn’t a problem. As we proceeded, we spotted other dogs with their owners.

In the Midst of History

Most of the buildings were barricaded at their doorways only giving us a dark glimpse at a lost way of life. The exception was a path running from one doorway to the other inside the barn. Equipment was roped off on either side of the path. I took Tessi through; confident she wouldn’t pee on the old wooden floor. Dogs prone to such accidents should stay outside.

The one room family home was open to enter to the inside of the doorway. Artifacts were roped off. A historically dressed woman was available to demonstrate and talk about the era. When I hesitated to enter, she invited Tessi in with us. We stood and listened to the woman as she answered Helen’s questions. As I looked around the room, I recognized the simple quilt-covered bed that an old friend had once taken a beautifully window-lit picture of.

Outside the blacksmith’s building, a small tub with a bedding of straw proved too tempting a photo opportunity. So in Tessi went; what a sport she is as she patiently sat with one paw draped on the curved rim while she endured another photo session.

On the far side of the buildings, we discovered a set of stairs. These lead to the Twenty Valley Trail which connects to the Bruce Trail. As the day was flying by, this further exploration would have to wait for another adventure.

The Lower Falls

We came upon the 27 m (90 ft.) lower falls, which we could easily observe from a stone wall lookout. Tessi put her paws up on the edge of the wall; she must have been wondering what we were looking at. I lifted her so she could see the other side. Fortunately, she couldn’t make out the mallards sitting contentedly close to the edge of the precipice or she would have been wiggling in my arms in an attempt to go after them.

I noted names of plants listed on the information board by the lower falls, and then we headed back to the car. Wildlife names were also listed, but I only scanned over them since most were familiar, such as the whitetail deer. As we crossed the bridge, I spotted a snake in the water below. After taking pictures of it, I ran back to the information board to find out the name of the creature. Meanwhile, Helen had been able to record the northern watersnake swimming over to a rock to sun itself.

As we explored, lilac bushes dotted throughout the conservation area continued to tantalize my senses, giving me as much enjoyment as Tessi had gotten from whatever hidden smells she encountered throughout the day. This was one trip where my senses of sight and smell were both satisfied.

For more information:

www.infoniagara.com/recreation/hiking/balls.html

www.npca.ca/conservation-areas/balls-falls/default.htm

(c)Cheryl Smyth, 2009

“Like” my new TC Travels page on Facebook and see more pictures of our visit to Ball’s Falls: https://www.facebook.com/pages/TC-Travels/236435269751540?sk=wall

Tessi doesn’t know I used to see numerous people walking their furry companions as I rode my bike on the multi-use pathways running throughout the city, joining its many recreational and nature parks, and its few dog parks. She only knows there are several places where she can run free. I tell her the one in the east end of London, at Pottersburg Park, was once unfenced. Usually, the animals were busy playing with one another to bother any people passing by; yet there was one time, while I was struggling on roller blades, I almost ran into a dog that suddenly appeared in front of me from the trees bordering that stretch.

The five hectare (14 acre) section is now enclosed and is one of three generous sized fenced-in off-leash settings. Each one features an open field and a wooded spot with worn footpaths meandering through. Stoney Creek Park, in the north end, has the added bonus or annoyance (depending on your pet and the time of year) of a creek flowing through it. Each park has a double-gated entrance and includes a small dog area. Artistic bone-shaped benches were added last year. Tessi and I often stop at one of the parks when we’re in the city. She spends a little time playing with the other dogs before moving off to explore the grass and bushes.

Greenway Park, in London’s west end, has the newest off-leash area. The nearby multi-use path leads to the bigger Springbank Park, where I’ve taken Tessi for leashed walks along the Thames River. Many ducks and geese make the river their home. At times, the water’s edge gets crowded as an audience of adults watches their children and grandchildren joyfully feed bread scraps to the waterfowl.

London is very much a dog friendly city. The London Dog Association organizes all things canine to help dog lovers and non-dog people live in peaceful co-existence. Rules are established at the off-leash parks so the animals, with their distinctive personalities, get along as amicably as possible; and also to help owners avoid triggering undesirable situations.

The association holds an annual fundraiser pooch plunge. This year it will be on September 6 (2009) at the Stronach Pool.

The London Humane Society also holds a couple of annual fundraisers. Bark in the Park which runs on June 7, 2009, features a walk-a-thon, events, and booths either selling doggy items or sharing doggy information. I participated a few years ago by selling pet pictures I had taken at the event.

I’ve been able to take Tessi into two former places of employment. Most of the staff at Forest City Image Centre (FCIC) love animals. Joe, the manager, encourages customers to bring their dogs in.

I remember when I worked downtown at Novacks (an outdoor/travel store), I once watched a dog being fitted for a doggy backpack (which they still sell). That led me to eventually ask the manager, Terry, if I could bring Tessi in. He gave me an enthusiastic okay. Officially, Terry states that dogs are more than welcome, as long as they are well behaved (which I would emphasize for any place of business).

These stores are both downtown. If I happen to be there in the summer, I can get a bite to eat at the Covent Garden Market. Though dogs aren’t allowed inside the building, there are vendors situated around the outdoor eating area in the nice weather. Nearby McDonalds has the convenience of a walk-up window, so you don’t have to enter the restaurant.

Whether shopping inside, appreciating nature at one of the off-leash parks or a leashed stroll along one of the paths, I can keep Tessi busy with many sights and sounds (and smells). I can enjoy my former place of residence in a way I never could while living there.

 For more info:

• The London Dog Association: www.cintads.com/ldoa/home.htm. You’ll find the rules of the off-leash parks listed with explanations, along with other general information.
• The Annual Pooch Plunge info:

Date:  Sunday Sept. 6^th, 2009

Location:  Stronach Pool

Plunge Times:

1st Session: 1:00 – 1:50 p.m.

2nd Session: 2:10 – 3:00 p.m.

3rd Session: 3:20 – 4:10 p.m.

Don’t forget to register at ldoa@rogers.com

All proceeds from this years plunge will go to the St. John’s Therapy dogs.

• London Humane Society Fundraisers:

Bark in the Park 25th Annual Dog (and People) Walk-a-thon

Sunday, June 7, 2009

10 a.m.-2 p.m.

Greenway Park, London, ON

Pledge forms available soon at: www.londonhumanesociety.ca or call 519-451-0630 ext. 222 for further details

• Christmas Pet Gifts campaign

November & December 2009

Various citywide venues

Put a special gift under the tree this year for your pet and help all the animals at the London Humane Society at the same time.

Full details available at: www.londonhumanesociety.ca or by calling 519-451-0630 ext. 222 in October.

• Novacks www.novacks.com
• Forest City Image Centre www.imagespin.com

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2009

Numerous waterfalls dot the Niagara Escarpment as it runs through the Hamilton area. I had enjoyed our day trips to Webster’s Falls and Tews Falls and was ready to explore another. From my research, The Devil’s Punch Bowl is said to be one of the nicest and according to MapQuest looked easy to find on the outskirts of the busy city.

The ribbon type cascade measures 37 m (121 ft.) high. The wall behind it is filled with coloured layers of Silurian stratified rock. As interesting as it was to view the falls and Hamilton from above, the depths of the gorge beckoned me to come and explore. I had to find the trail I had read about.

My usual pals, Tessi and Helen, were along for the ride. Our getting to the falls proved a challenge. The directions on the map I found on MapQuest seemed simple. The problem was I didn’t look beyond the area we were headed for. Further west, where we decided to turn to connect to the needed Mud Road, we passed over the four lane Lincoln M. Alexander Parkway. Not knowing this highway changed into Mud Road caused us to travel to the northern edge of the city and back again. When we finally arrived at the falls, I wanted to make the most of the visit to make up for the hassle of getting there.

After we made our way back up that difficult path, of which I decided must be someone’s party area, we reluctantly headed back to the car. I first decided to walk along the edge of the treed area to see if a route to the gorge would appear out of nowhere. Sure enough, I chanced on a partly hidden opening with a sign indicating the way to the Bruce Trail, which would take us to our destination.

The forest floor was a stunning sea of green. When I looked closer at the plants bordering the start of the trail, they looked suspiciously like poison ivy. I had read previously that there are sections of the Bruce Trail covered in the nasty plant. At first I thought all the foliage was poison ivy, but on looking closer, most of the plants had more than three leaves on a stem. We could steer clear of the threatening plants as the path was wide at this spot. I had to be careful with Tessi. Though she wouldn’t break out in a rash herself, she could get the sap on her fur and transfer it to us when we touch her. We would have to watch where we walked since there would likely be more. The fact that Helen has easily suffered from several rashes in the last few years suggests she is very susceptible (she figures it’s from tents she has fixed as part of her sewing business). I once had poison ivy as a child, so I wasn’t sure how my body would react.

The trail was steep, with the greenery full. Plants came up to our waist and higher, crowding us as we walked. The route widened as we joined the Bruce Trail at the bottom of the hill. I tried to keep a lookout for more poison ivy, but only saw one patch. I warned Helen, who was trailing behind taking pictures.

I let Tessi loose once we came to a set of widely spaced steps. She led us down to the swiftly moving Stoney Creek, where she immediately stepped out on the multi-level flat rocks for a drink. Fortunately, the current wasn’t strong. I grabbed Tessi when a man appeared with his dog, which was respectably leashed, until they disappeared up the steps. We followed the route along the water, passing the 6 m (20 ft.) Lower Punchbowl Falls. Tessi stayed on the pathway, which was close to a somewhat short drop-off. I made her heel as we skirted a spot where the edge had eroded away part of the path.

We had passed a photographer, who had been carrying his professional-type camera and tripod. (I remember when I was so disciplined.) I next saw him at the base of the lower falls and wondered how he climbed down there, especially as I know the difficulties of carrying photo equipment while climbing.

As I moved on, I eventually lost track of Helen, so I sat on a rock and waited. Soon she and the photographer showed up. At this point, the photographer followed the trail as it turned away from the creek and headed to higher ground. Helen, shadowed by Tessi, crossed the ankle-deep water, where it was easier to continue to the falls. I caught up to them after taking some pictures and enjoying the deliciously cool water on my feet.

We took pictures of each other and Tessi in front of the falls and the distinctive bands of coloured rock. It would have been preferable to stand closer to the cascade or even fun to stand under it, but we couldn’t tell how much ground the plunging water had carved out beneath the cloudy pool of water at its base.

At one point, we were distracted by a disturbance coming from the seemingly too steep to climb gravelly slope on one side of us. We spotted the photographer, who almost went for a tumble as he lost his grip on the loose stones.

Besides my struggle to cross back over the creek in a difficult spot (where the rocky creek bed was more unstable) to get to the trail, our return to the car was uneventful. Once we were topside again, we saw our photographer friend for the last time appear above the falls (looks like he managed to climb that precarious slope).

We came through our adventure unscathed-no cuts from broken glass, no falls in the creek or poison ivy rashes-or so I thought. The next time I talked to Helen, she informed me she had poison ivy all over her legs, arms and face.

For more information:

• The 800 km (500 mile) Bruce Trail follows the Niagara Escarpment from the Niagara region to Tobermory. Googling “bruce trail” will bring up a selection of sites to check out.
• www.gowaterfalling.com
• www.cityofwaterfalls.ca
  

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2008

At the Dorset Fire Tower Park, the lookout tower looms 142 m (466 ft.) above lake level, giving a memorable 803 square km (310 square mile) viewing radius of tree carpeted hills dotted with lakes. The park was one of the first places we explored during our visit to the Huntsville area of the Muskoka region of Ontario.

The Arrowhead Inn

We stopped at the Arrowhead Inn, owned by Herta and Tristan Thomm, on our arrival in Huntsville, so we could unload the car and get settled into the room we would have for two nights. We were then ready to delve into discovering what was hidden in the unending forests.

Before leaving, however, I had a chat with Herta. She and her husband are dog-friendly people, owning two themselves. Included in the response to my email sent for information was “no extra charge for the 35 lb. mix and also very welcome at our location.”

Herta told me how she and her husband generally allocate a couple of rooms for people accompanied by dogs. She said that out of 40 canine guests, maybe three prove to be a problem. Throughout the year, agility events can bring 20 or more dogs at a time to their motel. Herta has excellent cleaning equipment for the rooms, so people coming later wouldn’t know an animal had been there. For extra sensitive guests, she’ll make sure a couple of rooms get aired out for a month or so.

Canines are allowed leashed at the sides and front of the motel. There is a generous area out back where they are allowed to run free, if they have good call-back. Conveniently placed at each end of the building is a garbage pail and some poop baggies. I let Tessi have some off-leash freedom in the back before we headed out to find the Dorset Fire Tower Park.

Scary Heights and Steep Slopes

The park was easy to find and after paying the $4 charge, I drove the car up the hill to the parking area. Andrea, the woman working at the park store, stopped us to take a picture of Tessi. She loves dogs and likes having pictures of the ones visiting the park. I spent some time chatting with her before we headed to the tower. She told me she had lived in the Yukon for five years, which she loved and misses immensely. She and her pooch, Caden, used to enjoy amazing nature walks on endless trails in and outside of Whitehorse, from the lower to upper benches into the high country and sometimes to the top of the surrounding mountains.

Somehow our conversation led to a discussion of the problem of discarded broken glass, which seems common everywhere and easily found by our pet’s paws. I was surprised when Andrea told me it was even an issue in the natural region of the Yukon. I found that out when I told her Tessi has cut her paws a few times on broken glass hidden throughout the village where we live. Even at the tower, Andrea often picks up glass shards.

I talked to her again after the tower climb. She gave me an alcohol swab for the wound on my neck. I felt like such a mean mom for taking Tessi up the stairs; however, I’m used to her willingly joining me on my adventures. Andrea said that most people leave their dogs below when they climb the tower. Some of the dogs then spend the time whining while their family is gone. I’ve since found in my research that only 60% of human visitors climb the 128 steps to the top of the tower. Hurray for Tessi for reaching the top.

She was very happy once we were hiking the park’s 2.3 km (1.4 mile) trail. It reveals the area’s precious array of trees and plant life, offering various types we don’t see in the sparse Carolinian forests at home. I used to love taking close-up pictures in nature, but hadn’t done so in years. An interesting variety of ferns and fungi littered the forest floor, shooting up from twisted tree roots and old fallen trees. I was inspired to make almost constant use of my camera while we walked. Holding a leashed Tessi in one hand and taking steady pictures with the other proved a challenge, especially on some of the rougher terrain. I noticed Tessi loved the change in scenery as well; she was eager to sniff most of the plants we passed.

In compliance to the sign over the store’s door, I kept Tessi leashed. I didn’t want to chance her going after bears anyway. I would like to think we’d have seen one, as the trees were spread out. The trail gradually worked its way downhill. A section of large rocks was tricky to climb over, with the blazes being the only indication we were still on a trail. We came close to a highway before the trail turned to head back up the hill. The information on the map wasn’t lying when it said that part of the route was very steep. We struggled our way up to get back to the tower area.

Tessi, in her usual impatience, spent most of her time during our hike at the other end of the stretched leash. This actually helped keep me stable as we went over the rocks and up the steep hill. I’m not sure if I agree with the classification of the trail I had read, which said it is moderate in difficulty. We were questioning the definition of moderate often during our hike, though it was an enjoyable challenge and well worth the effort.

Peek-a-Boo Rock, a lookout we happened upon once we returned to the tower area, took us down a few easy steps to a chain link fence blocking a sudden drop. The view was another of the lakes and trees. By this time the sun was low in the sky, treating us to beautifully lit forested hills.

Oxtongue Rapids and Ragged Falls

The next day, we went in search of a couple of picnic areas with water features, which were indicated as being right beside highway 60 (the main highway between Huntsville and Algonquin Park) on our tourist’s map. As we drove, first looking for Oxtongue Rapids, we eventually saw the sign-Oxtongue Rapids Park Road-on a paved side road. When the road turned to dirt, I realized we were heading to another destination that seemed to be in an obscure place. I was reassured we were heading the right way when the road met up with a lively river. We soon saw a picnic table under a shelter and a portable toilet. If all those names weren’t etched into the shelter’s posts, I’d wonder if anyone ever went there.

A row of trees divided the river and road. Making sure Tessi stayed on the river side, I let her loose. I didn’t want her wandering into the woods on the other side. She stuck close to either me or Helen, who wandered upstream a bit. I also didn’t want Tessi to be tempted to go in the water for a drink, as I didn’t know how strong the currents were. She must have sensed the river wasn’t a good place to wade since she took a drink while standing on the bank.

After many pictures taken by Helen and me, we left the rapids to find Ragged Falls. Once back on highway 60, we continued east toward Algonquin Park. We passed another Oxtongue Rapids Park Road sign, giving me the feeling the long road would have eventually come back out to the highway if we had followed it through instead of coming back the way we came.

Ragged Falls turned out to be in a provincial park, where a trail meanders through the woods, partly skirting the bluff overlooking Oxtongue River. Our first sight of the falls was at a distance and blocked by trees. Eventually, we were treated with a better view as we got closer, though trees still tightly framed the vista. At this point, the cliff’s edge was safely fenced.

The trail led us to a compelling outcrop along the top of the falls. In this section, fencing was nonexistent. I kept Tessi leashed, as I had so far, while we climbed around the outcropping. We were very close to the water churning and rolling its way around and over rocks, before escaping to the bottom of the cliff. To be so close to the tempestuous river was thrilling.

Our hike continued to hug the river. The water ran quiet most of the way, with the occasional rapids. We walked until we saw a “hunting in progress” sign. Not knowing if it was still valid, we turned and headed back. We returned to the car with the satisfaction of enjoying another hike where we continued to see a wide diversity of foliage-and smells for Tessi.

Memorial Park Trail

After a lunch break at the motel, we stayed in Huntsville to hike one of the many recreational trails in the area offering a variety of lengths. We chose the shorter 1.2 km (less than a mile) Memorial Park Trail. It starts off following the Muskoka River on one side and an old railroad track on the other. I found the directions the tourism pamphlet gave us to be confusing. We took a couple of wrong turns before we got our bearings. We knew it led to Lion’s Lookout, which we eventually found. The walk from the lookout was on even terrain through the woods, except for a 300 m (984 ft.) steep climb (a warning was stated in the pamphlet). The pathway then opened to a playing field hemmed in on two sides by walls of jagged rock. An opening in the trees on the other side of the field got us back on the path, taking us to a secondary road. A hike down the hill led back to the starting point in time to find supper.

Who is Having the Accidents?

We decided to try Chinese takeout from the Kings Buffet restaurant. While carefully cutting my well-done sweet and sour chicken, back in the motel room, I was thinking about how Herta had mentioned to me that she wishes when a dog does have an accident that the owner would tell her.

Just then, the chicken ball went flying across the table and unto the floor, leaving a bright pink saucy trail. Luckily, I got it cleaned up before it stained. Just as I mentioned to Helen to be careful, one of her chicken balls went flying across the table and down the curtain. We were lucky to erase that pink path, too. It would have been sadly ironic to tell Herta we made a mess, not Tessi.

Happy Tails Camp and Resort

Tuesday morning, I had planned a visit with Lisa Brooks from Happy Tails Camp and Resort, located about eight km (five miles) outside of Huntsville. I had met her at Woofstock and was interested in learning more about her facilities. Though I never like to leave Tessi anywhere, if I did this would be the place. Dogs have a freedom here they probably only imagine in their dreams. The camp features a wooded lot where they can freely sniff through grass or chase squirrels. There is an area featuring a spring-fed pond for the dogs to swim in. Inside, the doggy bedrooms all lead out into a common area where they can snooze in front of a fireplace.

Tessi and I accompanied Lisa to the top of a knoll overlooking the pond. Lisa called to her canine guests, which brought them rushing outside with wagging tails and excitement. We could observe them hang out without them knowing we were watching. Lisa’s own pet, a pug named Stella, followed us, along with some of Lisa’s free roaming chickens that unintentionally enticed Tessi to constantly pull on her leash to go after them. Since Lisa’s own dogs ignore the chickens, such as Stella was, they have no fear.

I get the impression that Lisa is very proud of Babe, a 16 year old lab/collie mix, for she seems to be a fine example of what Lisa has been able to achieve with her camp. Babe came to Lisa two years ago, because the owners couldn’t take ca

re of her anymore. The dog’s quality of life has since improved exponentially. Lisa says, “She runs, drops down on her front to invite me to play her favourite game of catch-me-if-you-can…and then scoots and runs loops around me…to show me how fast she is…. ”

Lisa offers long-term pet care for those who have to be away or are indisposed for an extended time, such as a serious illness, a job out of the country, or Armed Forces duty.

Once my visit with Lisa was over, we had to head home. I was surprised that it took only five hours to reach London, where Helen lives. I had only another hour beyond London until I was home. It was nice to learn that the Muskoka region, with its mass of parks and trails, all celebrating the beautiful scenery, was not far from home.

Websites for more info:

www.arrowheadinn.ca

www.happytails.on.ca

www.dorset-tower.ca

Andrea informed me recently that the issue of the rocks on the trail at Dorset Fire Tower Park is being looked into.

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2008

Click the Facebook icon above to see more pictures of this visit to Huntsville, plus an additional visit Tessi and I made a year later to see the fall colours.

Tessi and I attended Woofstock in Toronto (considered the largest outdoor dog festival in North America) for the second time; last year was our first. Many exhibitors (more than 200 this year) push their wares and services in hopes of sales. This gives people a multitude of choices in food, toys, accessories and whatever else your dog may need or desire, or whatever you may fancy for your dog. Some exhibitors are there to raise public awareness of canine issues, along with hopes of receiving donations to support their causes. Lining the streets of the St. Lawrence Market Neighbourhood, the number of booths is almost overwhelming. The festival is a canine lover’s dream.

My first quest, before setting out to spoil Tessi, was to find a cold beverage for myself, as the day was already heating up. Fresh water is put out for the animals at assorted booths, though Tessi usually snubs the water, I assume, because of other dogs’ saliva floating on it. Yet, she will choose to drink from the ditches around our home. She doesn’t seem to like water much, only drinking it when necessary. I would find adequate sources of it as the day wore on.

Before moving toward the food area for a pop, I hesitated at a table which was covered in cute doggy T’s. Tessi’s size was included in the selection. I often find doggy clothes are made only in small sizes. These T-shirts were decorated in rock ’n’ roll themes, which made sense when I saw that the company’s name is Rock ‘n’ Roll K9. Thirty-five dollars is probably a typical price for a T-shirt in her size. I was on a budget, however, and would wait until the end of the day before deciding whether to buy a shirt or not.

After leaving the Rock ‘n’ Roll K9 table, we passed a flurry of activity at a water station. Attendants were continually filling several small pools for the animals to cool off in. Tessi took one look at the fur floating on top of the water and turned away.

I was not as choosy as to where I would get my refreshment. There were many food vendors to pick from; however, I stopped at the first one I came to. I made a mental note of the many food choices for when I’d return later for lunch.

I found a low wall on which to sit while I drank my deliciously cold pop. From my perch, I could see a stage being set up for contests that would run throughout the afternoon. The contests would include “Stupid Dog Trick” and “Best Costume” among others. When I finished my drink we were off to hunt for information, explore, and defy buying temptation.

We passed the permanent fountain in Berczy Park, where the stage was situated. The fountain was filled with dogs—jumping in and out and swimming—anything to cool off. Tessi wanted nothing to do with this source of water either. Last year she had hopped on the wall of the fountain. This year she wouldn’t let me get close, so we continued on.

I stopped at a booth sporting the name Poop Patrol Inc. The guy working there was promoting the group’s “Paw It Forward” program, which involves procuring donations of excess dog accessories from people and then passing these items on to needy dogs.

Tessi and I walked by a variety of exhibitors. At Isle of Dogs, I could have bought a spa-like product made just for canines, if I had been so inclined. Neo Paws specializes in assorted safety accessories and products. Someday, when I try canoeing with Tessi, I’ll want to get a lifejacket for her, but that purchase would wait. I scooted by a pet cemetery company—I don’t want to think about that day yet.

As we wandered, we found small amounts of fresh water for Tessi along with many sample treats. She happily gobbled up all that was offered to her, with equal enthusiasm. I would never be able to decide what she liked best if I had to choose treats to buy.

I had an interesting visit at a booth occupied by representatives of an organization eagerly trying to fight the banned pit bull law. Two pit bull type ambassadors were there to interact with. Both dogs were sweethearts, Trina stayed in the background while Wallace soaked up all the attention he could get. In the meantime, Tessi was given half a tube of a peanut butter flavoured treat. Before moving on, I bought a T-shirt in support of their cause.

I kept an eye out for water, as Tessi would probably be thirsty again. Signs posted at a few of the side streets, directed dog owners to water stations. On one quiet side street I found a small fountain with a shower-like spigot giving an endless supply of water. Tessi was finally able to have a proper thirst quenching drink.

Another source of refreshment I eventually came upon was through a company called Java du Mutt. I took the small powder samples of Waggalatte (a doggy version of a latte) offered and decided to buy a bowl of premixed for 50 cents. Since it is a hot beverage, I had the guy add ice. Tessi may not drink a lot of water; however, she loves anything beef or chicken flavoured, which is basically what this refreshment is.

After looking through a few more booths, I took Tessi back to the small fountain. On the way back to the crowd, I noticed a woman sitting with her dog in the shade. I stopped to read the writing on the T-shirt the sparsely furred animal was wearing. That led to a chat with the woman. I found out that her dog came with a few health problems when she was adopted a couple of years ago. The woman’s veterinarian had eventually found the cause to be her pet’s thyroid. I could tell there was a lot of love between the two, as the woman was dedicated to getting her dog’s health back on track.

I found the dock diving competition taking place on another side street. The dog being enticed to jump was having a hard time finding the nerve. Everyone applauded enthusiastically when he finally did, not caring that he didn’t dive very far. While watching, I forgot about Tessi. She wandered under the ropes and got underfoot of the judge. I was humbled when the judge asked me to please watch my dog.

I took a few pictures of the animals while they competed, and then Tessi and I moved on. I noticed a few photography exhibitors. Some of these creative people took their talent a step further than basic photography, such as the company Memories in Stone, which engrave dog portraits in stone.

After a couple of hours of wandering, and discovering unique items and services, I made my way back to the food area to buy a fajita for lunch. The wrapped sandwich was very messy, but delicious. Tessi busied herself by catching my droppings. Like most dogs when it comes to food, she was happy to oblige.

About an hour after lunch, Tessi and I had had enough of the heat. One of the last exhibitors we visited before leaving was Lisa, who owns the Happy Tails Pet Resort & Camp in the Muskoka region. The camp features a huge wooded area for canines to express ultimate freedom. Her business even has a shuttle that will pick up the animals in Toronto and take them to camp. I plan to travel to the Muskoka area for a few days this summer, so I will most likely check out the camp.

From Lisa’s booth we walked the few blocks back to the subway station. As I usually do when I go to Toronto, I had parked my car at Yorkdale Mall and had ridden the subway downtown. Leashed dogs are allowed, during non-rush hour times, on the city’s transit. I could relax and look over my few purchases and the bag of freebies and samples I ended up with. For the first time on the subway system, I saw another dog at the other end of the subway car. Like Tessi, he or she was sleeping. I wondered if they were dreaming of treats and activities enjoyed at the festival for dogs.

More information can be found at www.woofstock.ca.

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2008

Tessi didn’t know what to make of this unfamiliar type of transportation; however, it didn’t take her long to accept it as part of another adventure. Fortunately, because of all our escapades she is generally open-minded. On this particular day, she lapped up all the sights and sounds, along with the attention she received, in this crowded city so unlike her home in our quiet village.

Toronto is filled with busy people fitting work and play into their daily lives. Sometimes it can be difficult to find enough time for play with family, including the family pet. The city is not only a remarkable place to have a dog; it is also an excellent place to visit with a dog. It’s easy to travel to all the pet friendly spots, of which there are many. Dogs are allowed on the subway, buses and streetcars (Toronto Transit Commission—TTC) during non-rush hour times, as long as they are leashed or crated.

One day Tessi and I, along with my friend Helen, spent a day exploring Toronto. Since I don’t care for big city driving, the TTC offered a perfect way for us to tour around. Toronto has assorted metro parking for commuters. Vehicles can be left in one for the day while the owner uses public transit to reach his or her destination. Metro parking lots not only make driving less hassle but can be cheaper than other locales in the city, such as downtown. These lots do vary in price but are free on weekends. Yorkdale Mall, which is close to highway 401, has one such parking area.

The Subway

We found our way to the subway station from where we parked. We each opted to buy a day pass for riding the rail since we were probably going to spend just as much on multiple single ride fees. Tessi’s trip didn’t cost anything. While getting ourselves organized, we were called over by the security guard at the gate. I was half expecting him to demand to know what we were doing bringing a dog on public transportation. But he didn’t, he was just curious to know what breed she is.

As we were waiting on the platform, I chatted with a fellow passenger, who mentioned he was from Newfoundland. His response to my question on how different he found the city from his home province was not surprising. He said that people generally have a bad attitude in Toronto, though everyone was in a good mood on this delightful early spring day.

High Park

Many pleasant people were relishing the sunshine and warmth in the 400 acre High Park, which is one of many parks in Toronto that has an off-leash dog area. I chose to visit this particular natural oasis, since it is close to a subway stop. Inside the entrance of the park we discovered a large information map that included an illustration of the off-leash area. The map helped us find this area easily in the huge park. Since the off-leash zone is not fenced in, signs are posted as to where dogs are allowed.

Benches can be found in the centre for the comfort of the owners.

After Tessi had a satisfactory romp, I leashed her up again for a wander through the rest of the park, aiming for Grenadier Pond. We came across Grenadier Restaurant on our way. The restaurant has a patio; however signs indicate that dogs are not allowed. A few concession stands are located around the park, giving canine accompanied people an opportunity to buy refreshments. Since we were walking by the restaurant, Helen went inside to buy lunch.

While I waited outside with Tessi, I had an interesting conversation with a woman sitting on one of the benches. Displayed beside her was a Christmas wreath which she gladly moved so I could sit. She had found the wreath by the side of the road. At this point she was tired of carrying it and asked if I wanted it. Considering I had enough to carry (and I really didn’t want a wreath), I passed on her offer. She also had a beat up orange leather bag beside her and in a plastic bag she had a beautiful cream crochet blanket, which she also offered to me. Again, I told her I had enough to carry. Helen, when she returned, was offered these items as well, of which she also declined. The woman decided to leave the blanket and wreath spread out on the bench in hopes someone would take them.

We left the woman and the restaurant behind to continue to the pond. There we found a variety of waterfowl, including a beautiful swan that seemed to like Helen taking its picture. I’m glad I had my telephoto lens with me, since every time I moved closer to the swan it would hiss at Tessi. I guess it sensed she is a hunter and always in search of a meal.

As we continued on the trail hugging the pond we discovered more birds. Eventually, we came across a friendly small dog, waiting patiently while his mistress was watching the ducks in a marshy area. While I petted her dog, the woman told us she was checking on a certain duck that had been wounded. After frequent checks she had come to the conclusion that it seemed to be slowly healing. We left them and continued on the trail that eventually led us back to the street where we made our way to the subway platform.

Before heading back to Yorkdale Mall, we took the subway downtown, where a smothering crowd filled the sidewalks. I’m glad Tessi was on a lead; I would have lost her for sure.

Outside of the Eaton Centre we came upon an Elvis impersonator performing in the staggered motions of a moving statue. He stood out in the crowd as he was covered in silver paint from head to shoes.

A Wander Through the Eaton Centre

We watched the show for a bit, and then headed inside. A photography customer once told me she had taken her cute little Cavalier King Charles spaniel into the Eaton Centre. Even though a small animal is easier to get away with in public places, my customer did say she had seen bigger dogs in the building. So I had to try a mall excursion with Tessi. We weren’t the target of any nasty looks and, as usual, a couple of people came over to ask about her and pet her. When we stopped at a kiosk selling canine paraphernalia, Helen asked the saleswoman if animals were allowed in the mall. She thought not. No one ever did tell us to leave and the mall did make a couple of sales off us (I ended up buying a cute item at the kiosk and Helen bought batteries for her camera). Later I realized I probably should have looked at the signs on the entrance doors to the mall—you know, the ones saying “no shoes, no shirt, no service” along with “no dogs allowed.” My photography customer had gone to Toronto during Woofstock (Toronto’s annual festival for dogs). I have a feeling the rules were probably relaxed that weekend. From an email to Toronto Tourism I sent later, I did learn pets are not allowed in the Eaton Centre (other than service animals).

After our mall tour we found the subway heading north to Yorkdale Mall. Tessi had a good sleep sprawled on the floor of the subway on the way back. This brought a smile to the faces around us. Luckily, there weren’t too many people for her to be in the way of. Helen and I were pretty beat ourselves. As we passed what we thought should have been our Yorkdale stop, we realized we hopped on the wrong northbound train. The north-south/south-north part of the system is U-shaped, with downtown being at the bottom. The whole system is very simple to navigate as it is well signed; yet it’s easy to get on the wrong car if you’re not paying close attention. The underground railway experience was not only new to Tessi, but also to Helen and me. We knew we’d get where we wanted eventually, it just ended up taking longer. I felt more awake for the drive home anyway after a needed rest.

We only tackled the subway that day. Someday, when I feel really adventurous, I’ll challenge myself to figure out the bus and streetcar system.

I would never envy living a big city life (I lived in London, Ontario for many years—it was too big for me), but if I had to live in Toronto at least I know Tessi would have a good life. With all its parks for dogs to run, play, and socialize; and an easy way to get to them, we have another reason to envy a dog’s life.

More information can be found at www.torontodogs.com and www.toronto.ca

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2008

June 2008 – Sadly, since I’ve written this article, a couple of dog deaths have occurred in High Park, along with a few injuries. It is such a shame to hear of this happening in such a beautiful park or anywhere for that matter, especially when our pets need off leash parks to play and socialize. My heart goes out to those who lost their pets. (Information about the dog deaths can be found by googling “High Park dog deaths.”)

The scenery was spectacular, especially with the added touch of the black vultures gliding effortlessly on the air currents. Tessi became excited when one of the birds soared right in front of us. It seemed to be teasing her to run after it. Luckily, I had heeded the warning signs and had her leashed. The 41 m (135 ft) fall from Dundas Peak, where we were standing, presented a dangerous chase.

Dundas Peak is on the Niagara Escarpment in the Dundas/Hamilton area of southern Ontario. Helen, Tessi, and I were out for the day exploring the open ledge, along with the nearby Tews Falls and Webster’s Falls. Signs in the parking area of each of the natural water attractions indicate that dogs are to be leashed. Not only the peak can be dangerous, but also the trail following the edge of the tree-carpeted escarpment.

From the parking area at Tews Falls we hiked along the shaded path, which eventually splits. We followed it to the right where the vista opens to reveal the sky and the flat rock that is Dundas Peak. The ledge commands a view of the cities of Dundas and Hamilton. A brick barrier partially blocks the way and is easy to walk around. There is ample room between the barrier and the edge to comfortably observe the scenery, yet I still kept a tight hold on Tessi.

Tews Falls

Back at Tews Falls, we found two lookouts where we could safely observe the falls and Spencer Gorge from behind guardrails. On this hot dry summer day, the normally narrow ribbon of Tews Falls was like a leaky tap dripping 41 m (135 ft) into the chasm of the impressive gorge.

On the trail between Tews Falls and Webster’s Falls, the path hugs the top of the escarpment and awards amazing views of the tree carpeted Spencer Gorge below. Dundas Peak emerges in the distance, along with a sliver of the city of Dundas beyond the walls of the gorge.

Webster Falls

We observed the scenic curtain of the 21 m (69 ft) Webster Falls from behind a fence at the top of the cliff near its parking area. The path along the fence leads down to a charming cobblestone bridge. This bridge spans Spencer Creek, which feeds the falls. We stopped to eat at one of the picnic tables on the other side of the creek; and make use of the portable toilets also located there.

Once our physical needs were taken care of, we descended the123 steps to the base of the falls, pausing partway to take pictures of Baby Webster’s Falls on right side of the stairs. The steps are well spaced and most of them are made of stone and cement, with only one small section constructed of the steel grating that can bother a dog’s paws. On this hot summer day, the bottom of the falls was littered with people. They were climbing on the large diverse rocks scattered along and throughout the creek. We enjoyed some climbing ourselves. The swift moving water threading its way between the rocks distracted Tessi. I think she was trying to figure out if there was something alive under the water. Climbing was

precarious with Tessi at the other end of the leash. She didn’t want to wait for me as her four paws could easily conquer the rocks. Although her naked furry feet are fine for climbing, we humans should wear proper footwear – not like the sandals I was wearing – to negotiate the rocks and slick mud.

I could see Helen exploring the area behind the falls. I, of course, had to check it out myself. With a bit of a struggle, I clambered up the rocks after Tessi and was rewarded with an unusual perspective of the scenery seen through the seasonably sparse waterfall.

As I was struggling my way back to the stairs, I met up with a woman that expressed how much her sons love coming here. The cost of $5 per vehicle keeps her boys busy all day. We benefited from a lot of exercise ourselves while exploring the natural wonders of the escarpment.

(c) Cheryl Smyth, 2008

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