Out & About #941 | Pt. 1: Mono Cliffs Provincial Park

In keeping with the annual occurrence of Thanksgiving long weekend hiking, I dived deep into research in the weeks leading up to October. The three-day weekend had come earlier than last, lodging itself in the first week of October. This year, I'd be without my regular hiking partner(s), yet I had no intentions whatsoever to break tradition.

​Sauble Falls had been the first contender, though was quickly dismissed on the accounts that fall foliage wasn't guaranteed and, more importantly, the fact that I'd be suffering a minimum of five hours of driving, continuous or not. Mono Cliffs comparatively closer, at just sixty minutes away, and promised decent colour change as per the Ontario Parks website.

Source: Ontario Parks

While I had been hesitating whether to undertake the trip solo, bookings for the 12 PM - 4 PM slots had sold out. The remaining options were: 8 AM - 12 PM or 4 PM - 8 PM. Given that the gradual decline of natural illumination commenced at 6 PM, with skies full dimmed before 7 PM, the latter slot was unfeasible. Thus, the earliest spot was selected.

I gritted my teeth, fully aware of my non-morning person tendencies, but presaged the peace that often came with being the early bird.​

​At 7:35 AM, we made our departure from the humble yet dynamic suburbs into the town of Mono, currently inhabited by a population of 9000 residents. As expected, traffic conditions were tranquil and uninterrupted. Traversing northbound along the 410 then on local Caledon roads was wholly different experience from the nerve-racking white-out conditions witnessed during the winter hike.

We detoured towards McDonald's in Shelburne, supposedly the destination with washroom facilities closest to our point of interest. The drive had spanned 53 minutes by this point, less than the Google Maps estimate of one hour. Routing back southeast to Mono Cliffs took another twelve minutes.

Nearing the asphalt lot around 9 AM, a sign with large, bold letters came into view: "PARK FULL" it read. Ontario Parks staff were on site to confirm whether reservations were obtained beforehand, otherwise patrons were not permitted in. As the website had cautioned, automated gates were positioned at entrance for one-way entry and exit. Access would not granted without the barcode from the confirmation email. I scanned the barcode quickly, then zipped underneath the gate before it could close. The gravel lot was mostly vacant at this time, though the west edge of the premises was already lined with vehicles. Another member of staff gestured me towards an unoccupied space at the north limit of the lot.

We proceeded to gear up accordingly, until I realized my phone had gone missing. The revelation was horrifying; I had never misplaced my phone before, nor did I think it was possible to misplace a device without ever getting out of the car. I hurriedly retraced my path from the gate to my parked vehicle on foot, praying that I hadn't dropped the device outside the gate - or worse, had it run over my entering vehicles. Nothing.

"Can you call me quickly?!" I urged.
Standing at the south end of the lot, I received neither of the two outgoing calls on my watch, which indicated that I had navigated past the Bluetooth-enabled range. Panic ensued.
Desperately pacing about, a mild vibration on my wrist informed that I had regained Bluetooth connection. There was hope after all! Again, I rummaged through the car, searching the floor as well as every nook and cranny. At long last, the device was spotted nestled between the driver's seat and central storage/armrest compartment. Immense relief washed over me - Thank goodness!!

It dawned upon me afterwards that Mono Cliffs was notorious for having no signal. The calls, I learned, hadn't gone through at all and were sent directly to voicemail. Thankfully, Bluetooth capabilities were functioning, allowing for the swift determination of location range. From my own experience(s), it is with a high degree of insistence that I recommend hiking in a buddy system and preparing survival (ie. first aid) and navigation tools accordingly.

​Bathrooms, should they be required, adopted the format of outhouses. Six stalls nearly identical to those at Forks of the Credit were spotted at the entrance. These spaces were quipped with neither flushing capabilities nor lights, and were also devoid of handwashing stations. While I did not venture over, I was informed that the stalls were decently clean at the start of the day, though gradually accumulated griminess as visitor volumes surged.

​We entered onto the park grounds around 9:20 AM, having been delayed by the lost phone ordeal. At this point, a handful more of vehicles had pulled in. The visitor demographic was predominantly comprised of minorities, surprisingly. The loudest presence was none other than that of South East Asian/Indian families, who clustered at the entrance of the park for group photos, further proceeding to fill the air with noise and yelling children as they navigated inwards.

​Mono Cliffs during autumn featured a drastically different scenery than winter for sure. The trails were more walkable, now being devoid of foot-high snow and underlying layers of ice. It was astonishing to perceive the depressions along Carriage Side Trail as being positive contributions to the fall hike, for the grooves emerged as an interesting area for leaves to collect, rather than hazardous pools of hidden ice in the wintertime.

​Of course, the spectrum of shrubbery was another noteworthy attribute. Beyond deep evergreens and snow-covered bristles was an overall greenness with frequent splashes of red, orange, yellow, and all the shades in between.

​Majority of trail users encountered were occasional hikers: a few windbreaker-clad couples with backpacks and hiking shoes, though many more groups donning cotton clothing and low-rise sneakers. There were a handful of middle-aged and elderly couples, equpped with the appropriate attire, footwear, backpacks, and hiking sticks. A few casually-dressed dog-walkers were also spotted, seemingly frequent users of the trail by their exhibited aura.
As a consequence of the long weekend, our visit, despite its early nature, was filled - and impeded - by many, many tourist groups - more than countable, or desirable. There was an unmistakable sense of urgency as I rushed to capture snippets of my adventure before being disturbed by those crossing our path, either from behind or in front.

​My personal objective had been to cover as much as ground as possible during our stay. The South Outlier Trail had been one of my priorities, given that winter conditions had proven too dangerous to complete the loop previously. However, I opted to venture towards the lookout points first, reserving the quest for the end.

​Carriage Side Trail led into the provincial park. The unshaded pathway was lined with a good number of colourful trees, encouraging further perusal. Ground conditions were dry, albeit uneven. At the first T-intersection, we turned north onto Spillway Trail.

View the full album HERE !

​Vibrant scenery awaited us, enabling me to appreciate autumn in Ontario even more. In spite of the previous evening's precipitation, Spillway Trail maintained a distinctive sandiness. It was mostly dry, flat terrain underneath our feet, yet the pathway was lined with dew-covered leaves, shimmering ever so gracefully under the morning sun.

High above the crimson and auburn leafage, an eagle soared in the cloud-less, azure sky. Barely audible at first, the bird came into view as I progressed further along Spillway Trail.

​We steadily made our way towards Lookout Trail. Two more outhouses were spotted at the fork of Walter Tovell Trail and Lookout Trail, in addition to a breathtaking shower of yellow leaves.

Turning right, we discovered a rather rocky uphill climb. The northbound stretch of Lookout Trail was nearly a constant uphill climb amidst stones and small- to medium-sized boulders. Leaf fall was greater in this area, camouflaging the surface of craggy terrain and settling about moss-covered rocks on the side.

While steep, the ascent wasn't particularly strenuous in my opinion. Weather conditions were exceptional, being breezy with sunny patches. Clad in a long-sleeve dry fit top, rain jacket (because you never know), athletic leggings, gloves, a light scarf, and my signature yellow beanie, I proceeded throughout the park at a comfortable internal temperature with little to no perspiration.

​Trails had been identified for hiking, cycling, horseback riding based on their signage. Wherein the route forbid activities beyond hiking, wooden structures had been erected to prevent those prohibited activites from occurring. A number of these narrow fixtures were observed, especially along the Lookout Trail and connecting Walter Tovell Trail.

​Beyond an impressive tree bearing tri-toned foliage was the most breathtaking lookout of the hike. It was preceded by ruggedness and succeeded by steepness.

​The lookout was tremendously windy yet not frigid, allowing me to relish in the grandeur for a few moments.

A number of fellow hikers did the same, peacefully taking in the scene before them.

​Hiking down was another inclined, rocky path. Relatively dry ground conditions improved stability, though, had it been filled with fallen leaves after rainfall, it would have been undoubtedly slippery. 

​The paths before me included tree roots and more stoney-ness, making for an interesting trail. Those without hiking shoes or those unaccustomed to constantly varying land conditions may deem these changes unwelcome and unnecessary, however it was precisely this inconsistency that excited the avid - albeit infrequent - hiking enthusiast within me.

​The Lookout Trail concluded at the McCarston's Lake Trail, which was descended towards a shrouded viewpoint of the body of water.

​Gorgeous and gleaming were the lake's clear waters. Faint ripples curled along its surface, yet moved lodged debris minimally. Featured along the lake's circumference was a multi-toned medley of coniferous and deciduous trees. Amidst the intermittent gusts, marsh grasses waved from side to side.

​After spending a few moments marvelling at the beauty of McCarston's Lake, I continued on my way. It wasn't long before I arrived at a clearing - the lake's "official" lookout point. Red maples leaves beckoned me for a closer view - a view equally beautiful with even stiller waters.

​Unfortunately, it wasn't long before a particularly rowdy group of Mainlanders decided to encroach on the area. They were rambunctious and raucous, eradicating my moment of serenity. Smartphone- and selfie stick-wielding, middle-aged uncles and aunties began to infiltrate the area, their voices overwhelming what was once unspoken unity between humans and nature. I had originally been positioned near the lake's edge, crouching for a broadened perspective of the waters and flora. Without a moment's hesitation, one of the ladies entered the peripheral and crouched down beside me, attempting to capture the same angle and blocking my shot in the process.
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The annoyance was not minimal. I got to my feet immediately and began to depart the area in search of restored peace.

​Not even ten steps onto the trail, I heard the sound of water. Expecting to see a creek, I turned my head and was instead met with horror: a lady squatting on the side of the path, urinating. I looked away almost immediately, after overcoming the initial shock of the situation. Her body hadn't even been turned away from the trail, and neither had she bothered to venture deeper in the woods to take care of her business. The scene in itself was beyond disturbing, but even more so was her utter lack of self-respect. The outhouses were not that far away!

I wished for nothing more than to remove myself from the scene, to re-immerse myself in the nature I had driven so far to see.

Before long, I encountered the wired stairwell leading towards the cliff viewpoint.​

At first, I wasn't sure why a member of staff had been positioned at the top of the stairs. Only upon descending did I learn of the path's rather narrow boardwalk and dead-end nature. Within two minutes of my arrival, another hoard of Mainland tourists began filing in. This gave rise to more rowdiness and more phones in the face. My viewing experience had been obstructed, disrupted, and tainted. Without so much as a quick glance about the netted platform, I spun on my heel and began to retrace my steps to ground level.

While desperately trying to leave the area, I called out "Excuse me!", yet was met with no response. Physical contact is my last resort, but there was no other method than to forcefully push through for safe breathing space. At the top of the stairs, another group of tourists had queued for their turn. I finally understood the staff's post: to prevent those deprived of common sense and basic courtesies from crowding in the pit.

​It wasn't long before the Cliff-Top Side Trail met the Viewing Platform - the "official" one anyway. Beyond the Mainland tourists battling for their photo opportunity, I saw the re-appearance of the South East Asian family who had stopped traffic at the trailhead. The children had continued their screaming, as the adults dismissed them while going out about their journey.

Once again, the disorderly display had detracted from the overall experience, instilling a crippling sense of misery.

​Continuing southward along the Cliff-Top Side Trail, the surrounding environment would transition to an all-encompassing leafiness. The trail would take a sharp turn towards the left to connect to Carriage Trail. Had I continued further south though, I'd come face to face with a secondary entrance off a local road. From a distance, I could perceive a handful of vehicles that had parked to avoid park fees and reservation needs.

A second set of stairs could serve as another highlight to view the cliffs. There, I encountered a group of Cantonese speakers, mainly couples. In contrast to the chaotic, free-for-all mentality of the Mainlanders, they proceeded with their activities calmly and systematically, allowing each member of their tribe to snap a photo in an interrupted manner, then moved on with minimal disturbance to their surroundings.

Their short-lived stay allowed me to appreciate the environment organically.

​This period of admiration lasted for five minutes at most, for the Mainlanders were hot on my heels, prompting me to continue on my way to preserve internal peace. Reviews of the provincial park had proven accurate, for with popularity of a destination comes increased foot traffic and noise pollution. Fellow trail users had failed to show respect for the facility, with the Mandarin-speaking ones leaving the most despicable impression.
I shall never be able to perceive the sound of water in the same way going forward. In this regard, it was no wonder that their presence wasn't appreciated. To the untrained eye, all Asians may look the same, though disposition and character are conspicuously telling.

​The trails of Mono Cliffs appeared shorter on the map than in reality. When I had reached Carriage Side Trail again, my watch read 11:38 AM. 

Our booking would be in effect until noon, but twenty minutes was insufficient to complete a ninety-minute trail. As such, the South Outlier Trail would need to be reserved for another visit. Slowly retreating to the parking lot, I began to sense discomfort in my left ankle, as well as overall fatigue. It was impossible to cover the expanse of the park within a mere four-hour slot, however it was more than adequate for the purposes of exploration.

​I appreciated that the trails looped and connected into one another, and that there was ample signage along the entire trek. Views were lovely as well, and the climate spectacular. Moreover, the trail offered terrain variance and, consequently, physical challenge.

​As I pulled open the door to my vehicle, my watch read 11:57 AM. The parking lot had filled to near capacity. Waking up early for the 8 AM - 12 PM slot had emerged as a well-informed decision.

Read Part 2 HERE !