In keeping with the positive vibes acquired from Canada Day's Scenic Caves nature pursuit in Collingwood, I had proposed a subsequent hike with a fellow July baby (yes, another one). It was, coincidentally, another semi-annual meetup.
My original destination of Kortright - a name made familiar with while researching Maple Syrup Fest - was closed due to the pandemic, thus shifting the focus to other TRCA lands. Between the Nashville Conservation Reserve and Albion Hills Conservation Park, I settled on the latter out of consideration for its seemingly larger area of exploration.
My original destination of Kortright - a name made familiar with while researching Maple Syrup Fest - was closed due to the pandemic, thus shifting the focus to other TRCA lands. Between the Nashville Conservation Reserve and Albion Hills Conservation Park, I settled on the latter out of consideration for its seemingly larger area of exploration.
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High levels of humidity had been predicted for the day, though thunderstorms were, thankfully, at bay.
Setting out from opposite ends of the GTA, we converged at a nearby McDonald's for a late lunch (which was really intended to be "just lunch", but delayed due to tardiness to which I own complete responsibility). A McChicken and Spicy Habanero Chicken (not mine, clearly) later, we began the twenty-minute-ish drive north.
Setting out from opposite ends of the GTA, we converged at a nearby McDonald's for a late lunch (which was really intended to be "just lunch", but delayed due to tardiness to which I own complete responsibility). A McChicken and Spicy Habanero Chicken (not mine, clearly) later, we began the twenty-minute-ish drive north.
Admission fees were but a small chunk of Scenic Caves' at $6.50 per adult. That said, signage was extremely minimal - near nonexistent, really - and so were members of park staff. I pulled into the first parking lot to appear, with my partner-in-crime following suit. The supposed "Trail Access" vanished with the departures from our respective vehicles. Hopping back into the driver's seat(s), we proceeded to travel upon other barely labelled routes, eventually reaching staff-only areas and a dead end. It wasn't until we accidentally pulled onto the campground area that directions were obtained from two friendly cyclists.
Nearly thirty minutes following our arrival, the starting point of one trail was found at long last. It wasn't the trail I had planned to undertake, though it mattered not by this point; I was merely glad to finally disembark and start the adventure.
Source: Toronto and Region Conservation Authority
| Albion Hills Summer 2020 Trail Map |
The dusty gravel lot housed only a handful of vehicles. Surrounding the area were several picnic tables, all sufficiently distanced. For the vast majority of our trek, not a single human was witnessed. Accompanying us on the journey instead was the force of Mother Nature: agonizing dry heat, obsolete tree cover, unkempt paths laden with weeds, and as many flying/skittering/crawly creatures as fathomable.
Even at the early point of entry, our fate had been foretold.
Even at the early point of entry, our fate had been foretold.
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The burdensome weight on my back had been in vain, for views were dismal and insects were rampant. Maneuvering at arguably peaceful speeds rendered us targets for blood-sucking, and halting for swift snapshots was far worse. Commencing at marker no. 45, we plodded along the narrow grooves, constantly searching for indication that we had not strayed from the proper path. Much like the start of our journey, signage was extremely minimal; black and yellow arrows affixed to stout wooden poles served to guide us, though there was more than one occasion where a fork in the road coexisted with only one sign.
We headed in the direction of a river, which ultimately reared itself as an incredibly still strip of murkiness - an opaque beige of filth and other organic compounds. Stumbling upon a shaded strip of shrubbery, we somehow managed to catch a glimpse of a blueish reflective surface - water. Beyond the a barbed wire fence was a wider section of the river, and beyond that a single accomodation and connecting grade-separated roadway.
Our brief moment of awe left us defenseless. Within seconds, a quarter-sized black creature rammed itself into my left cheek. Alarmed, I swatted at it fiercely. It promptly fell amidst the grasses between our feet. "What had just happened??" was our common reaction. Stunned and perturbed, I examined the body nestled in the ground: black with six striped legs, I quickly concluded the insect as a wasp, while my companion deemed it a flying spider of sorts. Regardless, I was fortunate to find no markings on my face.
Unluckily, I was unable to escape the path unscathed. Four blistering bites surfaced shortly afterwards, followed by three dark spots - the "near misses".
Unluckily, I was unable to escape the path unscathed. Four blistering bites surfaced shortly afterwards, followed by three dark spots - the "near misses".
Roughly one hour later, we had succeeded in leaving footsteps along majority of the black and yellow trails, albeit with a side of intense perspiration. Constant buzzing and extreme calidity were sufficient factors in inducing miserableness, yet the final blow was probably a steep, upward climb under direct sunlight.
For the nature lover, the narrow bike trails may prove an exciting challenge. Heck, travelling at higher speeds may even spare you the bug bites.
For the nature lover, the narrow bike trails may prove an exciting challenge. Heck, travelling at higher speeds may even spare you the bug bites.
As those navigating on foot, the heat had us wholly exhausted and we were more than ecstatic to return to the air-conditioned suburbs.
Across from Canada's Wonderland is M Cha Bar, a self-proclaimed "Premium Tea Bar" complete with eyebrow-raising premium prices. The interior of the shop was rather roomy, though entry numbers were limited to four people at a time. In reality, it had the capacity to accomodate six, or even eight, patrons. Behind the bar was a noticeable amount of staff, though drink churn-out was on the slower end.
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We took to a QQ Roasted Oolong Cha Bar Milk Tea and each a Summer Heat (Mango Pomelo with Taro Balls). The latter I had opted to reserve for later consumption and promptly stored it in the cooler. The tall cup tipped over on the drive back and, given that it wasn't sealed, resulted in quite the vomit-looking mess. Toppings were plenty, though admittedly rigid after soaking. The beverage itself was fruity with the inclusion of mango (and maybe strawberries?), however retained the undeniably synthetic aftertaste associated with mango concentrate.
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QQ Roasted Oolong was as tasty as any milk tea with grass jelly, tapioca, and coffee jelly. Perhaps a tad richer than Gong Cha and less tacky than Miss Lin's Mr. Coffee, it was a delectable concoction, though unjustified of its $5.75 price tag. M Cha Bar's Regular size was approximately 75% the size of royaltea's, yet a 1.33 times pricier. A topping of London Fog soft serve had been requested at an additional loonie; boldly flavoured with small, beady bits of iciness, the formula was delicious yet lavish. Individual portions rang in at $6.50 before tax; with even Tsujiri sizes being larger, the teensycup was too tremendous of an asking price, regardless of quality.
Much to my relief, two washroom stalls were found near the back of the bubble tea shop. One had been labelled as "Employees Only", while the other was available for customer usage - at least, it was so assumed so in the absence of caution tape and cautionary signage. Public bathrooms are truly a luxury these days.
Much to my relief, two washroom stalls were found near the back of the bubble tea shop. One had been labelled as "Employees Only", while the other was available for customer usage - at least, it was so assumed so in the absence of caution tape and cautionary signage. Public bathrooms are truly a luxury these days.
Across from M Cha Bar, in the far distance, was a name not unbeknownst to me: Faema Caffe. Having previously tried their offerings, I hesitated not a split second to purchase a Tiramisu for later enjoyment.
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Charred chicken wings, freshly-washed greens, steak bites, grilled sausages, and a side of homemade croutons constituted of an astounding recuperative meal.
Unveiled later in the evening was the Tiramisu, proving to be as indulgent as the first encounter. The $7.50 slab was nearly the same as Truscott, but was far from satiating. A perfect harmony of moistness, creaminess, and plush ladyfingers, it mattered not that coffee liquer could not be located. As consuming the slice in a single sitting is too heavy for one, the fabulous dessert is best shared for optimized gratification.
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