August 19, 2004

The following is a transcript of the notes I wrote on August 8th, the 25th day of my journey:

I was walking towards Tobermory with great urgency when I saw them travelling in Indian file ahead of me. Armed with sticks, the two old ladies were taking a peaceful stroll at sunset along the Bruce Trail. The first one heard my hurried footsteps and turned around with a startled gasp. She clutched her stick and drew it close to her body.

I must have looked like hell: after 11 hours of hiking through difficult terrain my clothes smelled strongly and the pain shooting through my legs gave me a crazed look. For a moment she probably thought I was going to sodomize her with her own stick.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she recovered her breath. “I thought you were a deer.” At sunset it’s easy to mistake an unshaven young man with a murderous look in his eyes for a deer.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’ll try not to do it again.” She started apologizing like crazy and I felt like running away.

That’s when her friend, who was walking a few feet in front of us, turned around and seeing me screamed, a frightened look frozen on her face. She even jumped a little into the air. And then, I started apologizing like crazy.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled. “I won’t do it again.”

The first lady grabbed her friend’s arm tightly, with great compassion, as she continued breathing heavily. They seemed to share an understanding of the horror they saw, and I was afraid they’ll attack me with their sticks as soon as they got over their shock.

So I ran towards Tobermory, my feet desperately leaping over rocks and my mouth still whispering apologies.

I started the 36 km hike from Tobermory to the Grotto early in the morning, not realizing how difficult the terrain was going to be. The Bruce Trail is intense, wonderful, and it broke both my shoes and my spirit. For endless hours I climbed boulders and danced over the roots that crisscrossed my path like living veins. The scenery changed rapidly as forests gave way to rocky beaches carved out of the escarpment and barren crags transformed themselves into swamps.

I spent the entire day moving from one intensely moving scene to another. Little wonder then that I looked crazed and murderous by the time I got returned to Tobermory in the evening. The old ladies were right to fear me since for 11 hours I stared deeply into the face of God.

When I finally got back to town after all those staggering glimpses into the blue abyss of the Georgian Bay, I could barely move my legs. The day’s hike was much harder than all the weeks of biking beforehand.