A Walk in the Woods brought to mind a day I spent on the Bruce Trail some 20 years ago. I’d bought a trail guide in a bookstore and decided I would spend a couple of days hiking the Bruce, just to see what it was like. The easiest way to get to the trail, I decided, would be to take a GO train to Burlington and walk to the trail from there. And so, early one morning in August, that’s what I did.
The night before, I loaded all the camping stuff we’d bought for a canoe trip in Algonquin Park into a 75-litre backpack. I had a two-person tent, a set of pots, a plate and a bowl, a stove, a bulky sleeping bag, and more than enough food. By the time I was finished, I could barely lift the pack, never mind carrying it for miles across country. It’ll be okay, I thought. I’ll get used to it. I laced up my heavy leather hiking boots, staggered out of the house, and took the TTC to Union Station.
It was the hottest day of the summer and by the time I got to the Trail I was feverish and shaking with heat exhaustion. I stumbled along the trail for a while. It was quiet and I kept stopping to rest under the trees but that didn’t help. Nothing did. My head was throbbing. I had chills despite the heat. Drinking water just made things worse. Late in the afternoon I decided to stop for the day. I was too shaky to eat anything and too self-conscious to pitch the tent so I sat under a foil emergency blanket all night. I was too far gone to sleep. Mosquitoes from miles around came to taste my depleted blood.There was a small yellow tent nearby but no one went into or came out of it. I was alone. It was the longest night of my life.
Early the next morning I shouldered my massive burden again and walked out to a gas station that was marked in the trail guide. I called a taxi from the pay phone there and went back to the GO station. It took a couple of days, and many litres of Gatorade, before I started to feel like a human being again. Never again, I said to myself. Never again.