Out & About #806 | Meadowvale Conservation Area

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.

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​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.

Two bikers had made a sharp turn towards the west. Braving the muddy scene before me, I followed in their tire steps. Several meandering depressions had resulted from curious visitors: some weaved about the hydro towers and others through the grassier sections. All traversed parallel to the 407, providing a splendid view of rush hour flows without having to deal with the volumes firsthand.
​Gazing towards the fields, a few, branch-less trees were observed. They served as resting spots for birds in the vicinity, who had taken to their own activities without much regard for passerbys.

The unofficial "main" trail could be followed towards a channel of the Credit River, quite shallow and quite clear given the lack of human traffic. Rickety rocks provided a path for crossing. It was a scenic route, but the absence of level ground rendered it unsuitable for running or strollers.

I continued to roam aimlessly, eventually finding myself face to face with a set of tracks. There were not other connecting paths. A woman and her dog had just passed me minutes earlier - "Where had they come from???" had been my initial response. As it dawned upon me that there was no looping back, I grudgingly retraced my steps to the transmission towers.

​This time, I would opt for an alternate route that fed through the field, maintenance vehicle imprints embedded in the damp soils. Around the man-made pond I would go, wincing at the stench of cannabis along the way.

​Nearing the Credit River once more, a father and son duo were spotted hauling a bucket towards the residential side of the trail. A boy, probably no older than a high school senior, was spotted by the shoreline in a fishing suit with suspenders. His red mountain bike with thick, sturdy tires, was propped up against a nearby tree.

By the time I had found my way back to the trail head, I was tired and a tad antsy to find a bathroom. The sighting of portable washrooms was portentous, alluding to an absence of indoor plumbing facilities.
I continued anyways, hopping onto Culham Trail behind a couple seemingly familiar with the area.

At this moment, my eyes began to itch. My nose began to twitch. My body experienced an overall sense of discomfort. I slipped on my mask to combat the invisible enemies, but ultimately could not escape the befall of dust and pollen.

There were surprisingly more bugs on the southern trail than in the north, despite taller grasses and more frequent appearances of water on Davidson Trail. With its abundance of picnic tables, vast leash-free zone, countless barbecue areas, and nearby apshalt parking lot, Culham Trail was instantly the family-friendly pick. Pedestrian volumes were noticeably higher along this stretch, and the infrastructure had been modified accordingly to accommodate: boardwalks, bridges, and other man-made installations helped to improve walking conditions over unstable grounds.

Culham Trail provided a good connection to parks and residential areas in the neighbourhood, but also a direct path to the Credit Valley Conservation Authority. The building was impressive, modern and grand, while the lot neatly filled with brick pavers and outfitted with heavy camera surveillance from all directions. Parking fees would be enforced without an employee pass.

​Choosing to turn back early, I reached not Culham Pond and the south terminus of Culham Trail at Old Derry Road. Instead, I looped through L-shaped parking lot and found a trail opening for my return route. Speed was attained for this stretch.

​Just prior to crossing the Steel Bridge, I chanced across an unmarked path on Google Maps. There had been a handful of these, and I was eager to investigate. The first few steps led to me conclude that it would run parallel to the Credit River on the west site, opposite from where my vehicle had been parked. Observing no other river crossings on the map, I was unable to predict the rest of its track based on available data, and refrained from further pursuit.

​There was not a single loop within the conservation area, meaning all paths were to be backtracked. Shuffling back with vigor, I still couldn't shake the feeling of itchiness. Though not one to have spring allergies, the response of the eyes, nose, throat, and skin were reflective of a negative reaction to in-situ irritants. 

Washrooms, as well as a labelled "comfort station" area, were closed, leaving portables as the only option

Many visitors were spotted on mountain bikes with thick, sturdy tires - and reasonably so, given the area's elevation difference and terrain properties. The spot would serve as a short adventure for cyclists, or a picnic spot for young families, offering a splendid view of the Credit River.​

​For hikers though, the unbearable dust and pollen levels, along with the unclear pathways, made for a somewhat frustrating experience. I will not be casting Meadowvale Conservation Area a second visit, though wouldn't hesitate to recommend the spot as a destination for brief exploration (given no spring allergies).