At 4 AM, I reluctantly lifted my eyelids in response to the dreaded alarm. It was time to prepare.

Only dawning on me at bedtime was Larry's absence from my daily routine for the next little while. I had bid a lengthy farewell to him the evening prior, yet still wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to his cozy, furry presence amidst last-minute packing.

"Hey I'm on the Uber (heading) to the airport now." came a text from the Thai ahgase at 4:33 AM. She had departed earlier than I thought necessary, especially given her limited quantity of carry-on baggage, and arrived just short of 5 AM, just as I begun to close the trunk.

Within 15 minutes, I arrived at Pearson. The scene wasn't particularly chaotic - nowhere near as incredulous as news articles had made it out to seem. I printed my baggage tags without issues, then realized the calamity that awaited me: The baggage drop belt was malfunctioning.
I waited with inquisitiveness, initially unsure of the issue. After fifteen minutes of mistakenly joining the line for international departures, a member of staff gestured towards the side for domestic travel. There was no improvement to be witnessed, however, for the automated system was stalled for both international and domestic sections.

The queuing would only continue in the meantime, with crowds forming at each line and more passengers struggling to weave through the queue to access the kiosks. Suddenly, chaos had prevailed. The articles hadn't been mistaken after all. Even more amusing were the words of another member of staff that had passed us by: "It stopped once when I started, at 4 AM. This is the second time." It was shocking that, not only was the issue one of recurring nature, its priority for rectification was so low on the list. A manual override would have resolved the congestion while the technicians worked to rectify in the background.

​The delay ensued until around 6:30 AM, where the belt accepted the baggage of 3 customers before ceasing functionality once again. It sputtered various error messages before working again - this time long enough for my luggage to be scanned and transported to the main belt.

Feedback tends to generate a wide array of responses. Constructive criticism isn't always met with a positive, contemplative reaction. Yet, the same can be said about praise.

When chancing across new species of humans, I was dumbfounded to find them fishing for praise, that mindless commentary from those irrelevant to their lives held so much power over them. I also grew wary of those seemingly allergic to feedback, any negativity or disagreement from their preferred practice or habits, and, conclusively, change.
On the contrary, rarely do I respond positively to praise, instead seeking out areas of improvement that can be addressed constructively. While a firm non-believer of perfection (beyond GOT7 and Park Jinyoung, of course), I've strived to achieve objectively good results by taking into consideration the perspective of a variety of users. Further constructive remarks are also welcome, with each iteration enabling growth and progress.

Many, many attempts at Soy Braised Eggs have honed a time-consuming, but worthwhile procedure. The eggs ought be cooked to a soft-boiled state, where the whites have solidified but the yolks remain runny. The soy-based formula is brought to a simmer, reduced, and let cool to at least room temperature. Too many times have I submerged cooled eggs into piping hot braise, leading residual heat to remove the translucent, gooey properties of the yolk. One cannot rush the steeping process: forty-eight hours is the minimum chill time required to obtain umami goodness.

A replacement microwave reinstated the ability to quickly reheat food and beverages, eliminating the 30-minute heat-up period and reducing the chance of steam burns.
Peanut Butter Hot Chocolate and Coffee Frappés were enjoyed as mid-day pick-me-ups, while a soju float combining Green Apple Soju and Hazelnut Gelato from Nani's Gelato sealed off a relaxing post-stretch session.

A gentle buzz set off my phone around lunch hour on a sunny Tuesday - it was McDonald's announcing their new McNugget dipping sauce. Without a moment's hesitation, I was persuaded to embark on the trip.

Temperatures had dropped since the previous day, casting a chilly veil on the park I had ventured towards. The skies were vividly blue, yet cloud cover was unmistakable. Occasional gusts had me questioning my choice of attire: nylon Adidas track pants and the white short-sleeved tee from Jay B's first Represent collaboration.

The spread consisted of a Big Mac ($3.49 on Mobile Offer!), Peach Passionfruit Smoothie, and 10-piece McNuggets. Alongside the chain's newest Honey BBQ sauce was the classic choice of Barbeque.

Entry into the working world has solidified the importance of events that never truly garnered much interest in my teen and young adult years.
Politics matter, whether you believe true democracy will prevail or not. Familiarizing oneself with the various parties may be a hassle, but these respective platforms, supplemented by general public opinion, are deciding factors in the government's future investment(s) and job availability. Every instance of tax relinquishment reflects our investment back into the system, so thorough contemplation of these matters isn't entirely optional, as much as the act of voting is made out to seem.

​Spendings have been striking this quarter, spanning utility bills, vehicle maintenance, small appliance replacement, and special occasion dining ventures. Adding to the financial burden is a pending vacation (at long last!!) and GOT7's comeback. VICTON and ASTRO are also releasing EPs within this month, though their impact is negligible in comparison to OT7.
It is with much dismay to note that my quarterly review is delayed. The corporate class is frustrating, with an insatiable appetite for prosperity and ascent on the social ladder; what is more: these circumstances are consistent across majority of companies, with the same woes being expressed by those simply looking to survive, and maybe strive towards their career goals.

The week commences with Dalgona Lattes, one with espresso and one with a concentrated dose of genmaicha. Sickeningly sweet are the shards when incorporated in generous handfuls. In small doses though, they are quite enjoyable, contributing a caramely robustness to the iced beverages. ​Granola with vanilla Greek yogurt subs in for blue sky bran muffins on a few breakfasts.

​In the absence of a functioning microwave, creativity continues to be employed for the delivery of weekday meals in a timely manner. Sourced from the freezer are frozen vegetables and a mini pizza, which is elevated with additional cheese cubes and a few strips of Arirang takeout bossam.

Creations of the week included:

1) Marbled Banana Bread Feat. Mini Marbled Loaves

Congestion creeps up when you least expect it. Countless weeks have I traversed the same route on the 401 to Studio Bon without issues, yet the days that are not executed solo entail issues.

With a late departure and notification of all Express lanes closed for who-knows-what, a delay of ten minutes befell upon my drive. Distractions were plenty, but from the passenger seat as opposed to the vehicles surrounding me. Disturbing the driver with non-constructive opinions is ill-advised, yet it happens frequently to those unaware of the implications of their actions.

Facing perpendicular to the Bosu ball with one foot placed atop, we proceeded with twists of the upper body with arms in genie position ("shoulders down!" was reminded of all of us), side crunches, and, finally, the "speed training" lateral steps guaranteed to raise one's heart rate. Instead of aiming to cover greater distance, I tried to keep the body as still as possible, bouncing from one foot to another without extension of the legs or drastic shifting on the body. A safe landing on the other side of the Bosu was crucial, for any instability in the ankle could lead to injury by rolling. The move was executed slightly different by each class participant: my neighbour placed heavy emphasis on the bounce-off, while the other girl kept her body fairly upright.

​Lying on the Reformer, we took several deep breaths to calm the body. The legs were sent to the left and right to release any lower back tension. From that point, we would engage in a core routine with a partially deflated ball placed between the inner thighs. Squeezing against the ball at all times, we completed hundreds, toe dips to the "wood plate", leg extensions, and leg extensions with a crunch.

Continuing with more thigh work, both feet were threaded through the tension straps. Remaining in a lying position on the Carriage, the legs were lowered to the point where a neutral spine could be maintained. With the resistance of two red springs, this was quite the challenging starting position. The partially deflated ball was placed between the calves, slightly above the ankles this time. While squeezing against the ball, we would lower the legs with an imprint spine and lift back up to neutral. Scissors and Double Ds - in both directions! - were also executed while attempting to keep the Carriage as still as possible. Finishing this segment was the stretching of the inner thighs by extending the legs beyond the Reformer in a V-shape and pressing them down towards the Carriage.
Tension cable-bases exercises are particularly interesting in that they expose lack of mobility. Where flexibility is lacking, the range of motion becomes limited. Where strength is lacking, the cable quivers as the body moves. My left side, the infinitely weaker side of my body, struggles to resist the red springs, such that even maintaining the neutral starting position is a challenge.

​Flipping over to a high kneeling position on the Carriage, we gripped the loop of the tensions straps for upper back exercises. An additional white spring had been added to our usual blue, increasing the level of difficulty. I was reminded to keep the tailbone tucked on many occasions, for the imprint pelvis was apparently not pronounced enough. Grand efforts were made to keep the chin lifted and shoulders relaxed while isolating the back and triceps.
Rotating 180 degrees to face the footbar, arms were threaded through the hand straps and raised from hip height to slightly above the shoulders. We would then extend the palms outwards while inhaling, and contract the pectoral muscles while bringing the hands back to the raised position before bending the elbows and lowering to hip height once more.

​More lower body exercises would be executed while standing. The Reformer Box was obtained from the wall and placed in the Long Box Position on the floor next to the Reformer frame. One foot was placed in the centre of the Box, while the sole of the other was slid against the shoulder rest. The knee of the standing leg would be bent while the other foot pushed out against the Carriage. In the lunge position, the body was hinged forward slightly; the glute of the resting leg was to be squeezed to maintain squareness in the hips. Constant reminders were made towards all class participants, for failure to isolate the correct muscle rendered the exercise significantly less effective.

Wrapping up the class were several stretches, ranging from a tension-affixed child's pose on the Reformer, a standing rolldown, and shoulder rolls - three in each direction.

​My path reconvened with the girl whom I had unintentionally matched leggings with several weeks prior. It was learned that our paths would cross again in the future, though regrettably not within the same class slot.

Lunch was slated for 1 PM at Terroni Price, prompting a speedy change of clothes and rushed brushing of compressed strands.

A popular pick for Hallmark holidays, the table had been secured weeks in advance via OpenTable. Across Price Street was the familiar asphalt lot we had encountered during the last visit. The minor road was still uneven with more rutting and utility cut patches to count, while construction was still ongoing just east of the restaurant. Beyond these elements, the neighbourhood was quite serene, as expected of the affluent Rosedale-Summerhill district.

We had requested the patio, and were gestured towards two flights of stairs to the rooftop. There, another hostess table was positioned. One of the members of staff, dressed peculiarly in a Sherpa-lined jacket and runners, greeted us lethargically before impatiently revealing our seating options for the meal. The tables in direct sunlight were dismissed in favour of a round table with high stools by the bar.

View the full album HERE !

Tension in the neck, shoulder, back, and wrist are not atypical in office workers. Grueling durations before a screen, intense typing, and extensive mousework are the common culprits of biomechanical discomfort, becoming more prevalent in the new-age work-from-home model.

Occupations offering insurance coverage for paramedical services serve to alleviate a small portion of these damages, though fail to rectify the issue at the source. Training modules surrounding musculoskeletal wellbeing and proper ergonomics is great was awareness, but useless if never utilized in practice. The corporate world exhibits favouritism towards their resources, placing highest priority on the inanimate - funding, growth, and profit - consequently cutting investment in human resources and preventing an environment for progression.

A long-awaited massage appointment assisted in reducing pains temporarily. Leaving a stronger impression were the horrendous stench of the oil used at the facility and discussions ranging from the annual salmon run along the Credit River to abhorrence against "urbanization" of the GTA.
Strong opposition was heard in response to the development of Mississauga, for the addition of high-rise residential buildings and late-night establishments had supposedly stripped the city of its suburban nature, rendering it closer to the likes of downtown Toronto than its original identity. While never one to disapprove with positive change and infrastructure improvements, I listened intently to these concerns. The Hurontario LRT was noted to be disruptive - an aspect I cannot deny as both a driver and pedestrian, yet even more so by residents along the corridor.

"Why wasn't it put along Dixie?"
I withheld my irked reaction to this question, further stifling the obvious answer of "To promote foot traffic along the Hurontario corridor to business development and connect to both Miway and GO Transit services". Being primarily industrial, Dixie needs not transit, but a wider path for transport trucks and industrial teams.

​The proposal for a lofty condominium with an 8-level underground parking area adjacent to an older affordable apartment complex was met with much criticism. I visualized the impacts of utility relocation and pile driving for such an extravagant concept. With the work area being limited to start, the addition of stakeholder complaints and challenging ground conditions would only further the headache of the developer.

Later that evening, the sleepy polar bear brought over our - yes, our - newly acquired Codenames set. Neither of us succeeded in upholding a poker face; instead, I utilized the opportunity for advancing understanding. Parallels could be drawn from the game in the terms of planning and production: dropping keyword hints and analyzing responses was much like the act of seeking feedback from the general public during PICs. The tiny cards are great vocabulary builders (associators?), yet, at a deeper level, prompt us to target society's issues more comprehensively from an infrastructure and development perspective.

Breakfasts comprised of blue sky bran muffins and ginger-laced Banana Bread - on demand from the freezer and toasted to perfection. An inkling of interest re-emerged towards the forgotten Green Tea Hoddeok pre-mix, but was ultimately not pursued.

​The midweek acquisition of fresh mint paved the path towards mocktails: mojitos with Ribena, lemon juice, and Perrier.

​With the unexpected failure of our ten-year-plus microwave, reheating of sustenance was conducting via steaming. The old-fashioned method was organic, yet far slower than my schedule is accustomed. From assembly to ingestion, the entire process spanned up to thirty minutes, excluding cleaning time for the steamer itself. Never had I previously considered the microwave to be a privilege, when, in reality, it was. Heat distribution within a matter of minutes had been a blessing. Only now have I realized its pivotal post in my daily routine.

My COBS Bread half-birthday reward was finally claimed: the recently launched Strawberry Passion Fruit Scone was rigid and dense, very sweet overall but decent for satisfying the munchies. White chocolate-like bits were found within the scone itself,while a uniform glaze on the surface revealed tartness.

Creations of the week included:

1) ​Salted Brown Butter Rice Krispies

Perusal of the SK feed and recollection of my leftover Christmas Krispies spurred this creation. With just under one third of the tri-colour cereal remaining and more than enough mini marshmallows reserved for post-hot chocolate season, this decadent dessert came together in about the same amount of time as the standard kid-friendly batch. Salted browned butter heightened its complexity, while the substantial portion of marshmallows kept it plush with signature stringy strands. Flakey salt in the form of smoked Maldon topped off the treat.

​As with the most stubborn of adrenaline junkies, I find myself constantly testing the physical limitations of time in order to achieve more. For workplace duties, I am often provided more tasks than physically capable (and reasonably reimbursed for), thus strive to automate processes in order to earn back some breathing space. The plan backfires again and again, for upper management cares not of the wellbeing of their junior employees, but the milestones attained at a corporate level. Greed and pride are the dark drivers of ambition, leading countless to exploit both living and inanimate resources to rise along the social and economic ladder.
​
There is little to be negotiated in the corporate environment, for endurance is a matter of survival of the fittest, supplemented by underhanded compliments to establish shallow working relationships. In what remains of my personal time, I make steadfast attempts to portion it out with the aim of achieving the most. The habit, while rational in its conception, is dangerous over extended periods of time. It involves pushing oneself to the brink of death, and quite possibly into a somber territory of lifelessness before retreating a few steps, then doing it all over again. Burnout lies at the end of this all-too-familiar path to exhaustion. Yet, despite knowing the consequences, I unconsciously default to it anyway. And now, my calendar is filled till mid-summer.

​Having earned a throbbing headache and burning eyeballs at the end of each work day, I began to push away those seeking sympathy. It was never my strong suit to start, but a further reduction in sanity hours only worsened my reactions.
Schedule regulation was an act I had kept at the back of my mind, occasionally dabbling in it as needed. My routine had stayed relatively consistent over the past few years, especially given the dreadful, health-wrecking work-from-home situation, but the introduction of new priorities (needs?) demand a change. Frequently do I preach the importance of taking matters into one's own hands to yield the preferred result; I shall not be the hypocrite this time, nor any other time.

The week starts with unofficial meetings: Teams call after Teams call to address various issues. A mid-day boost is crafted from Paragon's Oolong tea powder and a few drops of ube extract mixed with sweetened condensed milk. The result was a two-toned Oolong Ube Latte with stronger notes of smokiness than sweet purple yam.

​Meals of the week comprise of takeout from Magic BBQ, Pork with Onions in Tomato Sauce over Rice, Baked Salmon and Choy Sum, and mini frozen pizzas for convenience.

​Constructed in the latter half of the week was a Coffee Castella with Chantilly Cream.

​Desires for a fluffy cake matched with airy whipped cream sent me in the direction of Sunday Baking's Taiwanese Castella recipe. Its texture was advertised similar to sponge, though the procedure was more forgiving. The low-and-slow baking process entailed minimal effort from my part and, furthermore, enabled dashes to the computer and unexpected requests. Swapping oil for melted butter and incorporating several tablespoons of Nescafe Gold into the batter at the egg yolk stage, the cake resulted a little denser than I would have liked. Nonetheless, it was delicious. Although a bit firm at first touch, the texture had not been comprised: air pockets were largely uniform in size and the cake emitted a light bounce when subject to pressure.

​Sustaining a position on my bucket list for at least half a year now, Treetop Trekking was finally attempted in the first month of their seasonal reopening. The activity is offered at a handful of locations throughout the GTA, yet it was the exclusivity of the Blue Heron Zipline that steered me in the direction of Brampton.

Availability of interested acquaintances was canvassed around late March/early April. It was also amidst this research process that I learned of a 20% discount for all bookings made in the month of April. Keen to take advantage of this promotion, I proposed the 30th - the last possible day for the offer to apply, as well my only free Saturday at the time of planning.
We secured the 2 PM slot, surrendered the atrocious admission fee, then completed the e-waiver shortly afterwards. Aerial Game Treks were priced at $64 per adult; even with the discount applied, the cost per person totalled a whopping $51.20 plus tax. 

​My partner-in-crime for the day was well versed in climbing, specifically bouldering, and was not only willing to invest funding into this activity, but also energy for chauffeur services. It was greatly appreciated, especially in consideration of the dreadfully exhausting weeks I had experienced leading up to the day.

I first requested a stopover at The Beer Store. The request stemmed from a sudden urgent need to clear out deposit recovery cans. Waterloo Brewing's new Field Berry Radler was acquired during this visit.
We forgoed the grand opening queue at The Alley and headed straight to Brampton instead.

​At the nearest McDonald's, a Big Mac Extra Value Meal and Bacon and Grilled Chicken McWrap filled our stomachs, preparing us for the surprisingly strenuous schedule ahead.

Heart Lake Conservation Area adopted a similar layout (and signage!) to Albion Hills, being a TRCA park. Admission fees were waived for those with Treetop Trekking confirmation emails, though other entrants were subject to day use rates of $7.75 plus tax. Entering the park without any further instructions from the admission fee collectors, we found our way to the Treetop Trekking station via guiding arrows.

I switched into hiking shoes and coated myself in a thorough layer of insect repellant before proceeding.

​A sheltered check-in desk and logo-donning trailer office welcomed us. Yellow wristbands were provided following check-in; washroom usage was advised prior to gathering at the equipment station. I had anxiously reminded myself to limit water intake in fear of a lack of indoor plumbing. Thankfully, the brick building by the entrance indicated otherwise.

​Helmets and harnesses would be provided to each of the registrants for the 2 PM slot. Bulky bags were advised to be left behind, though waist packs and small backpacks were not uncommon amongst the group. A hoodie I had initially borrowed in fear of chilly conditions was left at the front desk, for gentle infiltration of UV rays foreshadowed overheating.

​Mother Nature, the indecisive higher being, has a tendency to be extra undecided towards Ontarians. A jacket-less March and shedding plus storage of my down puffer wasn't indicative of an early spring. T-shirt weather was still a bit away, and snow hadn't escaped us entirely yet either.

​​​The first signs of a new season were audible before they were visible. A delicate croon of chirps from my backyard prompted me to straighten my neck, peering beyond the laptop screen that filled my everyday work-from-home existence. The trees remained barren before a backdrop of brilliant blue.

​But animals of creatures of survival. Despite the lack of climate clarity, warmer temperatures had been forecasted. Our humble abode began to swell with invaders, ants specifically, in search of respite.

​The week had commenced with expired mint chocolate truffles (a gifted package from forgotten Christmas inventory), braised pork with purple yam (quite the splendid suggestion, if I do say so myself), and the most unexpected timing for a stork sighting.

​I've foregoed brunch for quite a while now. The day-to-day working routine favours quick, caffeinated breakfasts to fuel productivity. It then usually transitions into a late lunch, a later afternoon snack, and even later exercise periods and dinners. Weekends differ not too vastly, for the body has grown accustomed to waking within a range.
"Leisurely" is a manner by which I am unable to progress through my daily duties, for it is a constant race against time. With every patched hole, at least two new holes surface in the canoe of life. Resilience is gradually receding.

​A devastatingly demanding week sent me into a slump. I wished for rest, yet a slew of tasks awaited my consideration and organization. The sleepy polar bear offered to undertake an active approach on planning, allowing me to reserve energy for tackle my endless to-do list. I was both anxious and curious for the outcome, but accepted after evaluating levels of physical and mental fatigue - and even refrained from posing questions.

​​Around 12:45 PM, we arrived at Pür & Simple in Heartland. The brunch spot had surfaced on my feed countless times over the past several weeks, leading to familiarity with the name, though I hadn't investigated any further. Its location was interesting, nestled in the same plaza as Best Buy, Five Guys, and The Halal Guys; it satisfied a niche customer base unsatiated by the existing roster of businesses.

Frankly, I was beyond surprised - pleasantly taken back, even. A social media favourite - free from greasy fumes! - was the last thing I expected.

​​The dining quarters were rather tiny, with tables placed relatively close to one another and incredible noise levels. We strolled in to a packed scene and were informed of an approximate forty-five minute wait. The hostess relayed the possibility of reservation cancellations, as "it always happens", with the next booking in ten minutes. I inquired further about a two-seater by the door and the probability of that table being available within a range of ten to forty-five minutes. She contemplated the question for a brief moment, then granted us the table without hesitation, as the pre-booked were "likely to cancel anyway".
We excitedly slid into the compact table, thankful towards her decision. Its positioning by the entrance wasn't ideal given the occasional gusts from the door opening, but it wasn't a big deal either as temperatures weren't that cold. Moreover, there was no wait time!

Double-sided printed menus were placed before us, joining the monogrammed syrup bottle. Pür & Simple's menu was exceptionally diverse: my eyes glazed over a plethora of sweet and savoury brunch options, ranging from classics like Eggs Benedict and Breakfast Burritos to modern picks of Crepes and amped-up French Toast.

We took to sharing one sweet item and one savoury item, much as how a fellow July baby does.
​No-Gria, the virgin rendition of a sangria, was requested to pair alongside our selection. Sprite/7-Up was substituted with carbonated water, keeping the drink refreshing without being too sweet. Fresh berries was a splendid addition for infusion. The paper straw disintegrated and unraveled over time, prompting a request for a new one about three-quarters through our stay.

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Sharing plates were requested of our waitress, who was unmasked while serving, unlike the hostesses. An overhead conversation with our neighbours informed of her previous post at Cora's, as well as her grateful attitude towards Pür & Simple's lack of oil stench - music to my ears, honestly. The same waitress was also observed responsible for majority of the tables on one side of the bustling restaurant. Her attitude remained amicably, amazingly, and did not evoke expressions of exasperation or fatigue. In general, all members of the customer-facing staff were friendly and responsive.

​The Mexican Skillet and French Toast Crisp arrived shortly, quickly occupying whatever table space we had left. Napkins, water cups, and maple syrup were shuffled about to accomodate the platter, ketchup, and tobasco.

Forks flew towards the Mexicana Skillet. Arranged within the not-so-scorching iron plate, we found well-balanced flavours: a subtle crunch from taters, the soft profile of black beans, butteriness from ripe avocado slices, satisfying strings of melted cheese, tartness from tomatoes, and the sturdy yet runny cross-section of easy-over eggs. A spoon was later requested to portion out the dish. Complaints of insufficient cheesiness were heard from across the table, though I personally found the assortment perfect and well-rounded. I was particularly appreciative of the mildness of the skillet, for even the salsa-like component was mild and free from the typical pungency of Mexican-themed fare.

Happy Earth Day!

The adventure had been impromptu, irrelevant of the annual celebration of our planet but full embodying its spirit nonetheless.

​For the second consecutive week, I drew closure on yet another devastating five-day workload. The mind needed clearing, with no more further exposure to the dreaded screen and all its eyeball-blazing, neck-tensing, wrist nerve-damaging effects.

​My thighs were still a tad fatigued to embark on another cycling trip, but I was keen to undertake a solo walk, preferably one in close proximity to home. Meadowvale Conservation Area was about fifteen minutes of local roads and blue skies away. The area was actually quite familiar to me, but not from the perspective of a driver. Long before license acquisition, I was, too, a receiver of rides, seeking familiarization via landmarks and repetitive visits.

Google Maps led me to a homey neighbourhood with narrow roads - two lanes, one in each direction. I then diverted north, arriving at the rather desolate-looking site. But the address was correct, for one of the City's new, plasticky signs had been installed.

​A few cars had already parked in the unpaved gravel lot. I joined them, then switched into hiking shoes for improved ankle stability. The trail head was extremely muddy, though I plodded through without fear, equipped with dirty-able boots and nylon pants. To the north was Davidson Trail, and the south Culham Trail; both signs were faded, revealing signs of extreme weathering, yet maintaining their objective of navigation all the same.

Davidson Trail led upwards along the Credit River, under the Derry Road overpass, and out towards a clearing for a closer view of the water. Following the path, I would traverse along the man-made lake known as Meadowvale Ponds.

View the full album HERE !

​The scenic view would end at a dilapidated trail, which was paved for a portion of the way before disassembling into shambles of asphalt. I continued uphill, ignoring the accessibility restrictions, until the path ended abruptly, failing to assume the form of a trail at all.