How I "Beared" the Woods

How I "Beared" the Woods

• Posted on June 10, 2008 at 7:32 PM

Hubby and I heading back after a restless night!

 zoom  zoom out

It was an anticipated adventure. I was about to try backpacking for the very first time and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Although experienced campers, my husband and I had never attempted an overnight trek into the wilderness before and we wanted to give it a try. After all, we were the adventurous kind.
For months we gathered gear and scoured topographical maps looking for that perfect trail; one that would be memorable yet not too difficult for our skill level. We also asked for advice, read reams of material and made checklists. Believe me, the last thing I wanted was to over do it with a backbreaking multi-day trek. We chose a trail on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. Because I grew up here, I can’t help but have a special fondness for its rugged yet beautiful landscape. There are trails galore and the island truly is a backpacker’s paradise. So after careful examination of our options, we chose the trail at North River. The complete trail at North River is an 18 kilometre return trip with a magnificent waterfall at the end. In fact, they say it’s the highest waterfall in Nova Scotia and impresses even the most experienced hiker. Beginning from a provincial picnic park, the trail enters the predominately hardwood forest and hugs the side of the mountain. It crosses over a few wooden bridges, meanders down to the valley and along the rushing river. For the experienced backpacker, the whole trip would be just another day but we knew a ten-kilometre hike would be quite sufficient for our first adventure. The falls would just have to wait for another time. Besides, I wasn’t sure how far I could lug that pack and camping mid-way by the river was appealing enough for me. We pulled into the parking lot and stepped out to gear up and study the map. The sun was trying to break through despite that only a few kilometers away; the fog was hovering in the bay. But we were prepared for just about any weather. At least it was relatively warm and the smell of the fresh forest air and damp moss was enough to tempt us on. As we hiked up the boulder-strewn path not far from the trailhead, we caught our first glimpse of wildlife. Startled by the loud snapping of branches, we turned around just in time to see two deer bounding by. They stopped to gaze at us long enough for me to get a snapshot and then darted back into the woods. Focussing back on the trail ahead of us, we carried on our way until we came across something else of interest. It was moose poop - and lots of it. Where there’s poop, there’s… Oh, gosh, I hope not, I thought. Only once before had I stumbled across a cow with her calf in tow and it was a nerve wracking experience. I certainly wasn’t eager to come face to face with a big moose any time soon. It took us an hour and a half before we finally made it to the first landmark – an old farming site. Remnants of a foundation and rock wall scatter the old property that is now completely overgrown in soft and hardwood trees. Here, the trail branches off. Another four kilometres to the right, leads to the falls. Up to this point, we could hear the rumble of the river in the distance but it wasn’t until we took that left turn, it got louder with each step. We were almost there. As we came through the last stand of trees with wobbly legs and a little sweaty from our hike, I dropped my pack and hurried to the edge of the rushing water with camera in hand. I looked up the river, then down. As the powerful current whisked by, I could hear the thump of the occasional rock tumbling over the riverbed. On the other side, the topography suddenly rises and leads straight up a mountainside. I could see a bald eagle soaring high above the peak. It was an amazing view but my sightseeing had to wait just a bit longer because we had work to do. I splashed some cold water over my face and wondered if the rush of the river would keep me awake at night. It wouldn’t be long before I realized it wasn’t the river that would keep me from falling asleep. As I was busy gathering wood, my husband set up camp and lit the fire. We sat on our log seats to take a break and admire our work but our rumbling bellies could no longer be ignored. As we fried up our homemade spaghetti and meatballs we had packed, the aroma from the sizzling butter and pasta sauce was enough to make us drool. Let me tell you, our supper that evening tasted like a gourmet meal.
Relaxing afterwards with a hot cup of coffee in hand, we could hear the birds singing as if they were performing for their new river guests. There was also pair of mallard ducks whooshing by every so often and the small blue birds perched on the rocks seemed to be keeping a watchful eye. We spent some time exploring the riverbank and fishing with a makeshift rod but then decided to rest our weary muscles and enjoy the mountain view and crackling fire. After all, we came all this way to enjoy the beauty of the wilderness. I began scanning the hardwood trees on the mountainside again. It was May and a few weeks away from any emerging plant life so the hillside was quite transparent. As my gaze slowly fell down over the hill, it caught something. What was that? It was a small figure half way down the mountain which appeared to be looking directly at me. A fox, I finally decided. But it wasn’t moving. I grabbed the binoculars and on closer examination realized it was simply a pile of mossy rocks and leaves. They were shaped as if that fox were sitting with his bushy tail wrapped around himself, ears perked and nose twitching in the air. I kept waiting for him to disappear, but of course, he didn’t.
Still curled up by the fire, we realized it wasn’t as bright anymore. A quick look down the river confirmed what I was unconsciously thinking about all afternoon – night was falling and fog was beginning to roll in. An eerie feeling came over me as I panned the riverbank on the other side, then glanced over my shoulder at the woods behind me. By this time, every tree knot and moss covered rock were beginning to look like eyes. Lots and lots of eyes and they were watching me, I was sure of it. As if those thoughts weren’t enough to make me run for the hills, it didn’t help when the fog thickened and the bats came out. Those bats began to tease us as they swooped over our heads numerous times. We could only keep the fire going so long before our eyes got heavy. It was now pitch dark, the birds had stopped singing long ago and I could no longer see the fox on the hill. My imagination continued to wander and visions of the moose droppings from earlier that day crept into my mind. There were also thoughts of hungry bears emerging from their dens after a long winter of sleeping. I was sure the coyotes, bobcats and all the other wild animals were patiently waiting their turn for leftovers. The only good news, I thought, was that the sound of the river would muffle any unwelcome noises from the forest behind us. If I were going to be eaten alive, at least I wouldn’t hear it coming. I’m embarrassed to admit, but my night spent by North River was one of the scariest times in my life. Eyes wide open and heart pounding with every little noise, I was convinced those bears were lurking just outside our tent. My husband was nervous too; I could tell. But he wouldn’t dare show it, especially after seeing how upset I had become. Instead, he snuggled in just a little closer that night and stayed still until morning. It wasn’t until I could see it was getting light outside I finally succumbed to my fatigue and drifted into a deep slumber. I awoke a few hours later from a vivid dream of me peering over large rock, at an owl perched in a small bush. It was a wise and friendly old owl and the sight of him made me feel at ease. Just as I was trying to approach my new friend, my eyes flew open. “I’m alive!” I found myself saying aloud. We crawled out of the tent that morning as if we’ve been fending off wild animals all night. You can imagine what relief I felt to know my harrowing experience was finally over. I would never have to put myself through that again, I decided. Haggard and hungry, we packed up our site and said good-bye to our riverside home. I had mixed feelings about leaving. It had been a traumatic experience that’s for sure but I was also proud of myself for getting through it. As I slung on my pack and munched on a granola bar, I looked up at the fox one last time. I sent him a thankful nod before turning around and walking away. Our hike back wasn’t that bad. In fact, other than some lingering fog and drizzle, it had stayed relatively mild. We were feeling rejuvenated despite our tiredness. It was almost the end of our journey when I took a moment to reflect on the past twenty-four hours. Who would have thought our simple backpacking trip, for which we had so thoroughly prepared, would have turned into such an ordeal. Backpacking, I realized, was the easy part. Overcoming a fear of the wilderness at night is the one thing I didn’t anticipate on facing. We emerged from the forest with a choir of songbirds bidding us farewell. I felt somewhat relieved yet accomplished. As we tossed the last of our gear into the wagon, the rain started to pour down – a bittersweet ending to our backpacking adventure. Shortly after we returned home, I decided I must continue to push my comfort level and try backpacking again. Although intimidating to me now, I believe I will come to appreciate and respect the wilderness as much as any outdoor enthusiast. When we go back to North River (and I am going back), we will probably invite a few extra hikers along. You know, just for some company. We might even make it as far as the falls next time… and live to tell the tale.

Note: Since that trip over a year ago, I've managed to get several more backpacking trips under my belt - enjoying each one better than the one before. I've even managed to keep my fear of wild animals under control if you can imagine that! ;o)