Along with a dozen fellow adventurers, I waited for the bus across the street from the youth hostel at the Old Ottawa Jail. I wondered what would arrive, worried about the endurance of my half-century old bladder if it turned out to be a school bus. Fortunately, a clean, modern tour bus pulled up. We loaded our packs into the luggage bins, and then settled aboard.
I relaxed on the ride to the park, even napped for a while. After stops at Whitney and the Pog Lake Campground, we arrived at the Lake of Two Rivers around 1 PM. I was first out the door and first with my pack. I hurried down the road to the Mew Lake office, picked up my permit, and then hurried further down the road to the trailhead. My destination, Head Lake, lay at the far end of the Highlands Trail. I wanted to set up camp in the daylight, and I had five and half hours to cover 15 km along unknown trails.
For the first 750 m of the trail, I strode along easily. My pack felt light, my new boots fit comfortably, and the sun felt good on my face. The path rose up gently before me, carpeted in leaves and bathed in wonderful autumn light. Someone left a greeting on the trail. Life was good.
Then everything changed.
I should have heeded the clues. First, when a trail is called the "Highlands", one should expect some hills. Second, when the sign at the trailhead says, "experienced hikers", the hills might be steep. Third, whenever a trail map shows a "lookout", prepare for some pain.
I followed the recommended route, hiking counter-clockwise around the trail to my first campsite on Head Lake. The first half of the hike to Head Lake consisted of long, grueling climbs, punctuated by short, steep descents. The hike really required a full day, with breaks to rest and relax, to drink and cool down. Instead, I pushed hard to finish it in half a day, anxious to avoid making camp and supper in the dark. I paused only to take photos, or for brief recovery at the top of the hardest climbs. The toughest climb came around the halfway point, approaching another lookout: a one kilometer slog up a stony, muddy path that had me cursing in disbelief. Oddly, my arthritic knees complained very little. But my buttocks and hips burned with each step, and my calves threatened to cramp with every toe lift. Under my pack, my t-shirt turned damp with sweat. Thank heavens for the summer bike rides in Gatineau Park; without the Pink Lake hill and the Champlain Lookout behind me, I probably would have stumbled into my camp under starlight.
Despite the discomfort and my desire for haste, I still found time to admire the autumn colors. The maples, beeches and birch shone at their peak of color, ablaze on distant hills, reflected in the lakes, and casting their glow on the forest floor. The warm air brimmed with the scent of rich, leafy humus, pines and ferns. Small streams and rills trickled through shady coves and under mouldering footbridges, or tumbled noisily through mossy ravines. The forest couldn't have looked more beautiful. Photographs can't do it justice, though I tried.
I arrived at Head Lake around 6 PM, dropping my pack at the very first camp site. The shadows had grown long in the forest, but I had enough daylight to pitch my tent, make supper, and hang my food bag in a tree. Evening settled over the lake. A low crescent moon appeared over the hills across the lake, and the stars spread over the sky. I sat at the edge of the lake and counted myself fortunate.
