August 16 2002
The Lynne Stone, High Dump, 7pm ish
We've named this stone after Lynne, in her honour and because we miss her very much. Karin just handed me a slice of apple with brie on it. But I digress...
The Lynne Stone is a warm, white, round stone with a flat surface that slopes gently toward the water, about 10 feet wide, and 20 feet long (I guess tha tmakes it an oval).
A seagull approaches. It looks familiar. We think it's the one that called Karin's name yesterday morning at Cape Croker. "Kaaaa-rin" it squawked. Today it showed up here as we sat on the Lynne Rock. Maybe it's Lynne. Or maybe it just likes brie.
10:15 August 16, 2002, High Dump, Site #8
There are two reasons I can think of for why this place isn't jam packed 365 days a year. The first is the name. We must have made about six dozen jokes -- all scatalogical -- about the name on our way here.
The second is the last 100m or so to the campsite itself. Once you set off down the 200m side trail to the campsite you start descending an easy but significant incline. Then, about halfway along, the path stops and you see a thick length of yellow rope, tied to a tree, leading straight down.
I'm sure more than a few casual hikers took a look and said "fuck this" and turned around.
Pity them. This place is a phenomenon. It's hard to believe it's in Ontario. There's a 2km crescent-shaped beach, covered in white, limestone rocks. Scattered amongst them are huge, square chunks of windblown, pockmarked grey rocks which have fallen to the beach from the huge escarpment cliffs that tower above us.
To the north, Georgian Bay extends as far as the eye can see. Two to three foot waves crash against the shore. Apart from two islands to the west, you can see no land out on the bay. You might well think you were on the ocean but for the clear, fresh, brisk but swimmable water.
Tonight we share this paradise with two other people who are camped at the other end of the beach. This is the most beautiful space I have seen in... god... who knows. Maybe ever.
We're camped on a 12 foot square wood platform, maybe 10 metres from the water. Our platform is back in the woods and a gentle breeze is wafting through the Wanderer 2. The site has a solar powered, composting toilet. It's a two-story wood building with the shitter on top (Joke #37: Ah. High Dump. The first campsite ever named after the toilet. Joke #42: I wonder if the shitter on the ground floor gets a lot of use.)
The site also has (stinky) metal animal-prof food containers.
Fires are banned and you can only use the site for overnight camping. Oh -- and it's a three hour hike from the end of the road.
We woke up this morning at 7:30 and started getting organized and getting breakfast. We had delicious, yet over-egged (good B12 day) french toast. We had a lot of work to do for now the car camping was at an end. We all did triage on our gear, our food and our clothes. Karin coached Cathy and I on the fine points of packing and we put our packs together, divvying up the food and the gear according to that famous exiled german economist's maxim: "from each... to each."
I think we were out of Cape Croker Indian Park by noon. We drove through Lion's Head, stopped for gas, ice and water, and forged on, along Highway 6 to Dyer's Bay Road. We followed that to some other teensy road that we hope some day to relocate ('cause that's where we left the car) and arrived at the entrance to the Bruce Peninsula Nature Reserve around 12:45. We slathered ourselves with sunscreen (we'd been granted another warm, sunny day), donned our packs and started off.
The trail is easy terrain. Our chunk of it was 8.2km and we were there by about 4pm. We stopped for a snack and for a water break or six, but apart from a pretty creek/lake/beaver dam, there's not much to see. Once you get here, you'll cry with delight. We did.