Risky Business

There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and I'm not sure whether or not I crossed it this past weekend.

We'll let you be the judge.

It all started Saturday morning with an icy run down to the market - I needed my screw shoes before I even left our neighbourhood, as the meltwater on the sidewalks had frozen up overnight. That, however, was less of an issue than the Grand River having jumped its banks due to the thaw. I got a little less than 3km from home - and less than 100m in on the Blair Trail - when I was confronted with this:

Yikes.

Not wanting to get my feet wet above the ankles, I picked my way around the only way I could: on the icy rocks between the giant washout puddle and the raging current of the river.

And of course I stop to take a bloody photo.

Fortunately I made it through safely, but this was only the start of my questionable decisions for the day.

One obstacle down - how many to go?

The rest of the trail was a solid sheet of ice - last week's rain had saturated the snowpack, then the sub-freezing temperatures had hardened it all up.

Screw shoes or spikes required if you want to stay upright.

Having survived despite a couple of slips (thankfully no falls) even in my screw shoes, I had to think carefully about what I wanted to do for my second run. I wanted to get 10 miles or 2 hours in, and seriously considered heading out for a road run just due to the icy nature of the trails. The powerful gusting wind made me want to hide in the trees, though, so somehow I came up with the bright idea to throw on my microspikes and hit Hilton Falls.

Not content to deal with the ice-covered main trails in the park, I started out basically doing The Beav course on the Philip Gosling Side Trail off the Bruce Trail.

'Cause I'm smart like that.

Fortunately my spikes were quite confidence-inspiring on the icy, side-sloping trails and I made decent time. Then things went a little sideways when I came upon this:

Again I say: yikes.

I could either turn back and head up the main trails into the park, or I could hope that either a) the crust of ice on top would hold my (not insignificant) weight, or b) the water below wouldn't be too deep.

The answer was c) none of the above.

With soaking feet, ankles and even calves in the just-above-freezing air, I was sincerely grateful I wore good wool socks and even wooly tights as I pressed onward - my feet barely even got cold, and warmed up almost immediately as my shoes drained.

My next questionable decision was continuing to follow The Beav course by taking the very technical Hilton Falls Side Trail instead of the wide, groomed Red Oak Trail to head toward the falls.

To make it even better, I stopped to take this photo of the stream that falls into the reservoir...and stepped a little too close to the edge. The shelf of ice below my foot broke, and I was lucky it was only about an inch above solid ground and kept my foot out of the water.

Nearly sogfooted again.

Then I just had to pick my way through the broken rocks, caves and fissures while trucking along the edge of a cliff.

Covered in ice and snow.

There are a couple of places where you have to cross over narrow crevasses on the trail, and you'd have to be some kind of idiot to stop and take a selfie while doing so.

Yep.

Particularly while standing on a rather small, rather icy rock that acts as a bridge.

Like this one here.

Without falling to my death - or at least serious injury - I made it through and onto the park trails proper.

Still icy, but much less treacherous.

..and then diverged from their relative safety to pick my way along the edge of another rocky, icy cliff.

Above the river into which the falls spill.

Despite moving more quickly than I probably should have on such terrain (given my inherent clumsiness), I arrived at Hilton Falls itself shortly after Tanker - he'd hiked in directly on the park trails from the parking lot, and had even got a bit of a fire going up above.

That's my honey <3

I took the staircase down to see the falls in all their impressive, icy beauty.

The sound was incredible!

Then it was back along my merry way under blue skies. I'd only covered about 5km out of the 16 I wanted, and had been out for 45mins already.

Still not sticking to the main trails, though.

That might become an issue, as I hadn't started until just before 5pm. With the park technically closing at 7pm and sunset less than half an hour after that, I needed to boogie.

And boogieing on this is not really possible for one of my paltry athleticism.

I planned to do the Beaver Dam trail loop then head back out, and decided I'd go clockwise as I recalled the west side was a little more technical - I wanted to get it done while I was as fresh as possible, then cruise the wide-open trails back out. Things came to a bit of a halt when I ran into this, less than halfway up the west side.

Now that's inconvenient.

The water was clearly flowing quite strongly from left to right, and I could see that at least the first section was icy underneath. I was all alone, almost as far as it was possible to get from Tanker and our car, and didn't know how deep it would be. Did I turn back and take another route to get the mileage in?

With a deep breath, I decided to give it a whack. My spikes gave reassuring grip on the spongy, rotten ice below the water flow as the water came up to my ankles. As I passed into the deeper portion, I was able to get decent traction on the chain link-covered rock below the icy flow. The water was a powerful force as it came up to shin level, and I'd have turned around immediately if it had got anywhere close to knee deep - without a trekking pole to help stabilize I was in danger of being washed away.

So I waited until a shallower bit to take a selfie.
'Cause I'm smart.

Whether it was the longer crossing, the accumulated fatigue, or the fading day, I'm not sure - all I know is that this time my feet did get quite chilled this time. I tried to hustle as best I could, now sticking almost exclusively to the main, groomed trails as I made my way toward the exit. I hadn't brought a headlamp - just another one of my questionable decisions for the day. At least I had my emergency kit with me!

The view of Kelso is always impressive from the trails leading to the parking lot.

With a bit of luck and a lot of work, I was able to get 10 miles done in almost exactly 2hrs of moving time (a bit less than 2.5hrs total) and was back at the car with Tanker just as the sun dropped below the horizon.

Phew!

So now I'm torn between feeling a bit proud of myself for not being a weenie - having escaped with only some chilly toes and a small chunk taken out of my shin by the ice at the first water crossing - and like a damn fool for taking risks that could have left me in dire condition. I certainly would never recommend that anyone else attempt the same; not alone, on a cold, windy day. I was very lucky to have come out unharmed, but can't help but feel like these experiences will be something to draw on the next time I encounter something a bit scary on the trails. There's a certain power in knowing that you can overcome challenges by not backing down - I just hope I never regret taking the chance.

I'd like to make it home to my sweetheart, and I'm pretty sure he'd like that, too.

Wishing you all safe adventures as winter begins to wind down - if you can't be good, at least be careful!