Today – for the first time – we got to wear our bright new orange rain ponchos legitimately!
That’s right, we actually experienced a decent rain shower in the afternoon. Happy as ducks, we were, or, more accurately, as kids playing in puddles. Great fun!
We couldn’t decide whether we looked like bright orange lilies:
like little hunchbacks stooped over our walking sticks:
or like preachers in altar gowns:
The last image seemed to work well with the other metaphor we played with today, which was: “Bruce Trail as Church” – it was Sunday after all.
Our Bruce Trail service was not very Calvinist. No three theological points, no reminder of our total depravity. Instead we had a sermon delivered by the birds, and their message was simple and wonderful: “Sing every day”.
The beauty of the meadow flowers, butterflies and frogs in the muddy water, along with the moss-covered rocks and cedars and maples and beech trees in the forests provided an abundance of praise elements. The rain was our baptism and our communion. Our silent prayer took place in the many moments of quiet contemplation as we walked without talking. In all sincerity, we felt blessed and edified.
It was, altogether, another great day on the trail and in the Valley. We covered forest trails and meadows and hay fields, and basked in the fragrance of cedars as well as cow manure. By mid-day we began to catch views of the Georgian Bay in the distance as the route leveled off and started to head west again. It was an easy day in terms of hiking difficulty, and we overshot our planned goal for the day. We walked 19.5 BT km, leaving a meager 6.3 km to cover the next morning to complete the Beaver Valley section. magdalena