The Final 3 Days of the Bruce Trail

Arriving at camp just before things went sideways.

Day 1 - Rush Cove to Reed’s Dump
Friday November 12, 2021

This past weekend I took 3 days to myself and spent it completing the most northern 100km section of the Bruce Trail. This section of the trail runs along the eastern coast of the Bruce Peninsula - one of the most beautiful and unique places I have ever been. Little did I know this would become one of the most demanding things I have ever done, both mentally and physically.

Being November, in Canada, I was fully aware that the Peninsula is capable of producing weather of all four seasons, in a single day. A peninsula, by nature (and definition) is a landmass that is surrounded by water on most sides and connects to the mainland, from which it extends from. At the most northern tip of the Bruce Peninsula, Tobermory, a quaint little town that is bustling with tourists during the warmer months and a complete ghost town when things turn cold. This would be the final destination.

The journey began at 7:30am on Friday in Rush Cove, which is just south of the village of Lion’s Head. I awoke at 3am to get on the road early, as it was a 4 hour drive to the start point. When I arrived, the weather was clear, but cool at 6c. Perfect hiking weather, really.

It was really the area starting in Rush Cove, which is where Brian and I had finished the prior hike, that I had really started to see the landscape begin to resemble the more northern section of the Peninsula. It is littered with large stone slabs jetting out into the coastline and endless natural ‘staircases’ that are more beautiful than anything man can make. As you round the little cute little nub of Lion’s Head and get the first glimpse into Isthmus Bay, the striking aqua blue waters of Georgian Bay really start to gleam. It makes your heart jump the first time you see it - and the 100th.

At 4:30pm the sun was starting to set and I could feel the first little rain drops finally starting to touch down after hours of visual threats. The winds began to pick up and an ominous feeling began to move in. Just before 5pm I arrived at Reed’s Dump, an overnight rest (camping) area where I quickly strung a tarp and dropped my bag underneath it. Reed’s Dump is situated on a gorgeous white stone beach - the exact place where you would hope to end up after 30+ km of hiking along the jaw dropping coastlines of Georgian Bay. The GoPro was quickly deployed on timelapse duties and I began to grab some images and videos of the impending storm moving in, from the north and the south.

As darkness fell, the rain began to fall as well. I retired back to the campsite, set up the tent and made some dinner as the rain tap danced across the tight tarp roof that I had slung. Little did I know at the time that this would become a sheet of ice overnight.

Once dinner was done cooking, I promptly dropped it all on the ground, salvaged what I could and then discarded what could not be saved. Oh, and did I mention that I also ‘remembered that I forgot’ the water filter ? I guess I was going to do a little experiment over the next few days - Can you drink directly from Georgian Bay shores ?

By 6pm I was wrapped in my cocoon of a sleeping bag, but was kept awake for a while by the crashing waves that had started to roll in from the winds that were pretty steady at this point. The edge of the Bay was only about 60’ away. Day 1 had turned out pretty awesome, considering. I had managed to stay pretty warm and dry, considering what the weatherman had forecasted for the day. Unfortunately, as the weekend progressed, I can’t claim that I was as lucky as I was on day 1.

The dramatic skies of day 2.

Day 2 - Reeds Dump to High Dump
Saturday November 23, 2021

With my alarm still set to 3am from the night before, I didn’t even get a chance to hear it because I was awake at 1 am. Being in bed so early, my natural alarm went off after about 6 hours of sleep. Tossing and turning for a few more hours, I finally got moving around 5 am, packed up in the sleet, shook the tarp free of ice, stuffed it into my bag and left the campsite at 6:05am with no breakfast.

Normally, I can get away without having breakfast so that's not a big deal for me. To be honest, the ‘new thing’ that I have really been fond of is just getting on the trail early and then stopping to make breakfast in a scenic place, with daylight and a view. Not stuck underneath an icey tarp in the dark. Though, I really shot myself in the foot on this one, as there really was no ideal time during the day to stop and unpack the cookware during the day. The weather just didn't allow for it. It was either too rainy or snowy, or was just too windy where I was.

When I left the campsite, it was a mix of snow, rain and hail. Just light enough not to be too worrisome, but just enough to start getting you wet. It was still dark and the ground was covered in about a half inch of accumulated snow / hail. The Peninsula terrain is mildly treacherous in dry weather, so this icey cap to the jagged, random aggregate was not going to increase my ability to bury 40km between sunrise and sundown.

But, why 40km !? Let me explain. At 5pm on Sunday, I needed to be in Tobermory, as I had agreed to meet a total stranger for a ride back to my car. After only clocking about 32 km on Friday, I needed Saturday to be a big day, so Sunday could be a bit more casual (30km or less) - and on time to meet the lovely human who agreed to pick me up.

Earlier in the week, I had asked the Bruce Trail FB Group for a ride from Tobermory to Rush Cove and to my disbelief there were multiple offers to help me out. I actually had to turn a few people down ! A huge thank you to Sue and to everyone else that offered their precious time to help me on this journey. It was incredibly nice to know that there are so many good people out there.

Around 7am, the hail really started to fly and the storm that came through offered one of the most amazing things that has ever happened to me. The droplets of frozen rain streamed down in front of my face like a veil of beads - the headlamp that I was wearing was causing ‘tracers’ from the falling hail to appear as a single chain of beads. White, chains of frozen water, which were not unlike pearls - I immediately stopped, looking around in amazement, as I was suddenly donning a full veil of sparking white pearls. The rate at which the droplet was falling and the refresh frequency of the headlamp was like a mathematical anomaly that allowed me to see the same droplet about 10x as it fell through my field of vision, with the bottom droplet being just as vivid as the top one - I will never forget this series of moments.

By 8am my feet were soaked, as a new hole had just birthed itself in the side of my hiker. The wet snow continued to fall, the rain came after that, then more hail. This weather really secured a nice grip on my footwear. As I wound my way up the coast, the wind would find a way to seek me out and remind me that, yes, I was wet and it wouldn’t take much to make it pretty uncomfortable. Good thing I bought some new gloves, just for this trip.

At this time, my pants and backpack are soaked as well - and the rain cover that I had brought along was obviously in need of being sealed because all it was doing a good job at was trapping and wicking water. My bag was only getting heavier, and that was starting to bother my shoulders. When your shoulders get tired, you subconsciously pick up the weight with your back. A look at my phone - only 30km to go.

Just south of Cape Chin, I ran into a few hikers (from Hamilton - Hi, if you are reading this) that were coming the opposite way. I had seen them twice the day before, which was weird, so this time I just burst out into laughter. The older gentleman laughed as well, and we exchanged some more info after really connecting over the hilarity of the situation. They asked where I had got to the night prior and told me about the Cape Chin re-route that I was unaware of and that I was just about to hit not far from there. I gushed over my ‘Pearl Veil’ event and kept moving. Meeting people like that makes me very grateful to be a part of this hiking community - there is a cyclical energy amongst the group that inspires and motivates, even through a simple quick exchange on the trail.

When I hit Cape Chin I was blown away that this was once someone’s front yard. The views are absolutely magnificent and I can only imagine the memories that location provided to the family (?) that lived there. It really is a huge acquisition for the BTC, that happened earlier this year.

Not far from Cape Chin is Devil’s Monument, a place that I had visited a few years prior with some of my best friends. And what a gorgeous little place this is, with it’s 5,500 year old Flowerpot, waterfall and incredible white boulder beach. This is a true gem of the Bruce Trail. I couldn’t spend lots of time here, so I fielded some questions from some local ladies after they saw my big backpack with a tent strapped to it.

“You’re camping !” said the one chatty woman.

“I am.” I exclaim, as I snap a few shots of the Flowerpot.

The conversation leads to me finishing the trail the next day, the one lady calling the act “incredulous” and 2 of the ladies making fun of the 3rd lady for whining about doing 5km after hearing that I was out for 40 that day. I laughed and carried on, sloshing my way down the trail in my cold, wet boots.

The last 15 km of this day was a LONG 7km road section that leads you to Crane Lake Rd Parking Lot, followed by 8km of snowmobile trails that end at High Dump. Crane Lake Rd is where things got really, really, windy. The sideways type of rain that you swear is falling up at some points. Every hood on and every zipper doing its best to block the invasive and violet winds that are driving up into your face and body.

This is when I texted Jenn, “I'm alive, but I’m struggling” which was meant to be more of an honest check in, but I can see how it could be taken in a more serious context. We briefly spoke and I assured her that I was ok, but that there was a good chance that I was not going to be able to complete the intended goal in time. Her reply was “It’s ok to finish another day”. But that really wasn’t something I wanted to entertain. I had plans to hike next weekend !

My feet were cold, wet and blistering and I was only just over half way done the hike. The long road walk really highlighted the need for a footwear change. I could feel the fluid that was building under my feet starting to blister even more and with each and every step I was just collecting more and more water. 4km into the road section I stopped to change socks. With no place dry to sit and during a small break in the rain, I peeled off 2 layers of saturated merino wool and swapped them out for 2 dry ones. This was a mental supercharge.

At approximately 3:30pm, I hit the southern gate of Bruce Peninsula National Park and it was a near race to get to High Dump at this point. The wide open snowmobile path was an absolute pleasure to get to motor through for the last 8km of the day. My shoulders were raw, my back just aching as I arrived at the top of the High Dump Emergency (Camping) Shelter hill. If you have ever been here, you know how treacherous this place is to get down to - now imagine doing that in the pitch black, while raining and wind just HOWLING up from the water’s edge, with a super-soaked 40+lb pack on. It was frightening to say the least, but too exciting not to explore. So I made the descent down to the High Dump camping area.

Slowly, I made my way down this nearly vertical drop off, clinging to roots for stability and still almost yard-sailing a few times. Finally, I made it to the bottom, where there is an official notice board, explaining the rules and locations of the camp sites. This location has some sites that have 12’x12’ tent pads that you can set up on, getting you up off the wet ground. This was an unbelievable feature that I was so glad to be able to utilize.

First - I wanted to see what all the commotion was about. It was SO LOUD. The wind was smashing the waves against the beach, it was really a sight and sound to behold. The beach welcomed me with the last few minutes of the sunset - a gorgeous royal blue with pink highlights hiding behind a group of fluffy dark clouds. A Georgian Bay sunset - the only place that I think about when I see a sunset from a less than ideal spot. “Man, I bet this would be AMAZING if I was on Georgian Bay”. After walking 40km in the snow, wind and rain - I decided to stop and really take this one in.

Once the sun dipped behind the horizon, I could feel the coldness of the night start to creep in, so I scrambled up to my tent pad. It was so windy, that I had to set up my tarp as a windbreaker at the edge of the platform. Once that was in place, it provided an ideal place to set up my tent and make some food. I thawed out my cold, wet hands over the butane stove and prepared the food that I was supposed to eat for breakfast. Then I swapped my socks for another pair of dry merino and relished in the feeling of being dry and not on my feet.

Once I had cleaned up from dinner, I was able to relax in a sitting position for the first time in over 12 hours and of course, made sure to enjoy some of that fine locally grown Cannabis that I had brought along. This left me awfully optimistic when reflecting on the lengthy journey that I had subjected myself to that day. And - how the hard work that I put in would likely allow me to attain the goal of completing the trail the next day.

Not long after, I curled up in my sleeping bag and quickly realized that I just wanted to vanish into thin air and wake up tomorrow - so excited to be able to say that it was the final day. The waves pounded the beach over and over and a few times an hour the waves would impact the rocks in such a way that it would sound like a gunshot, producing a bang so loud that it would cut through the deafening sounds of the rolling waves of the ocean, I mean lake, only about 100’ away. By 8pm I was dreaming of campfires and dry shoes.

By day 3, I had seen it all: snow, rain, hail, sleet and ridiculous winds.

Day 3 - High Dump to Tobermory
Sunday November 14, 2025

Like white noise in a baby’s ear, I slept right through until 5 am and quickly came to when I realized what time it was. A split second of being awake and I already felt the surge of urgency to get on the trail. Sunday morning was a little cooler than the night before and it was snowing just a little bit when I stuck my disheveled head out of the tent. Thankfully, the powerful winds had subsided by then and this gave me ideal conditions to pack up the tarp and tent. Since High Dump has washroom facilities via a 20’ high building with a toilet at the top, I decided to celebrate the name by taking one before I got back on the trail.

It was 6:08am when I started the ascent up the hillside that High Dump is placed at the bottom of. It got me sweaty right off the bat, and I started the hike on day 3 completely winded. It was just starting to spit rain as I reached the top of the hill and got back onto the main trail.

This is where things get really uncomfortable. The footing across the next 2 or 3 km was nearly impossible. The night time low had allowed the soaked dolostone to become just slippery enough to ensure that you couldn’t trust your next step. My hiking poles became essential devices that had to be well set before taking the next step. The backpack, still soaked from yesterday’s walk, was acting as a high-centre of gravity pendulum - and you don’t really want to make a mistake like that when you’re teetering along 200’ cliffs.

My boots were soaked by 8am again and I was already plotting a sock change during the mid day hours. But, this sock change would never happen. My feet ended up becoming so saturated by the end of this walk that there was no reason to swap socks and put them back in the saturated boots that my feet had been calling home for the last 3 days. On this day, my feet would be 100% saturated for over 10 hours. Optimistically, I thought, “There’s no room for new blisters with all the old ones on there”. I wish that I had been right on that one.

It continued to rain, steadily, for the next 6 hours. The weather systems that moved in and across the lake made for moody, dark emotional scenery, but the real beauty of the Peninsula was being hidden, away from all sunlight. On a sunny day, there is NOTHING like the Bruce Peninsula coastline. Even though I was soaked, I made sure to stop and take lots of photos, always remembering that I was out here right now and right here and now is where I should be.

Unfortunately, unlike the prior days, this rain was really starting to make it’s way into my Double Layer Gortex Jacket and my sweater underneath started to get damp, then wet, then really wet and heavy. All I could do is just keep moving and keep the blood flowing to stay warm. My feet, a sloppy, sloshy mess, just laughed at the sick joke that was my footwear as the hot spots started to appear. This is the feeling of layers of skin starting to separate from the upper layers.

My new gloves were the next casualties, as the long Gortex sleeves became saturated, so did the top of my gloves, then the bottom. Then, the insides got wet. It did not take long for my fingers to start going numb from the endless rain, hail and wind that continued to threaten my productivity and comfort. I wore the gloves as long as I could, because I knew that my clammy, wet skin was going to have a tough time re-entering the glove.

At this time, it occurred to me that I might actually cause more damage by leaving my fingers in the confines of a glove - and that the wet, windy outside environment might unfortunately be a better call. I reluctantly took the gloves off, stuffing them in my oversized pockets, knowing that I would never be able to put them on anymore. Then - I had a glimpse of my hands - and my heart stopped. My fingers were BLUE. How could this happen so fast !?

Well, I’m happy to report that the blue was not frostbite - it was a dye that had painted my hands up inside of the gloves as they got wetter and wetter. Could you imagine the relief that I felt? It was like being given a second chance the minute that you felt defeated.

With the gloves off, my fingers quickly started freezing up and numbed up a bit on the tips. I had to stop walking, put my hiking poles down and address each hand and set of fingers with an armpit hug, followed by a deep-throated heat blow. Don’t let that last sentence get the best of your imagination. This was where I thought - I could be in trouble here.

Frustrated, but determined, I couldn’t walk a few hundred metres without the numb feelings returning and I would have to stop time and time again to give my hands some attention, knowing how quickly frostbite can happen in the wind, even in +0C temps. This was a kick in the mid section, knowing that I had gloves in my pocket that, if dry - would allow me to at least not be worried about permanent damage before this hike was over. Lesson learned.

Fully soaked, head to toe. Hair, neck, sweater, pants, feet - even underwear at this point. I was wondering, maybe I just hit up Sue, who is providing the ride back to my car, and tell her, “Hey, I wasn’t able to make it all the way, I’ll meet you at Little Cove at “X” O’clock”. Little Cove is 7km sort of Tobermory and it seemed like the only logical way out if I wasn’t able to finish.

Once I passed Halfway Log Dump, and then Storm Haven, I realized that the severity of footing wasn’t as bad as the section between High Dump and Halfway Log Dump and that I was making better time now. After Storm Haven, the Grotto and Cyprus Lake area seemed to come after that pretty quickly, I could actually ‘feel’ myself getting closer. In a way, I felt like I was ‘out of the backcountry’ now. When I got to Boulder Beach it felt like the rain was starting to taper off.

With my fingers in peril, I could only do so many things to keep them warm, and luckily, I found that if I was a bit more vigorous with the hiking poles, the hands would refresh with enough blood to start warming them up, even without gloves. With only a light rain falling now, the wind began to back off and when I went a few minutes without worrying about my hands, I knew that I was good to go again - as long as the rain and wind continued to slowly wind down.

The section between Boulder Beach and Little Cove was by far the wettest, in terms of groundwater. Endless puddles just kept refreshing the inside of my boots and it was just a joke at this point as I walked right through puddles instead of going around them like I had tried so hard to do before. It actually felt good to replace some of the old water in my boots with new water. You know, gotta keep those feet fresh. ; )

When I finally hit Little Cove Road, I had a rush of optimism. Not only was I not concerned about losing fingers, but my brain knew that I only had 7 km left - but more importantly - my feet knew they had it in them. I had never been so happy to see a fresh asphalt road. A recent re-route cuts into the forest earlier than it used to, so to my surprise that 7km became closer to 5 or 6km. Good news at the end of a 100+km dash. I messaged Sue and told her that I was going to be on time for 5pm.

It wasn’t long before I found myself at Dunk’s Bay, a truly gorgeous stretch of the trail with some amazing rock formations, including a natural arch and even a hidden little Grotto! I had to stop here to really take this in. With the Little Cove Rd reroute, I was actually ahead of schedule now! This gave me time to lollygag the last few kilometres like a child walking in the rain, stomping every puddle along the way. I must have had a stupid grin plastered on my face, remembering all the crazy shit that had happeneed over the last few days and thinking about the warm bed that I will soon be sleeping in - after 3 more km of walking and a 4.5 hr drive home.

A huge surprise for me - you can see the Flowerpots on Flowerpot Island from Dunk’s Bay !

As I rounded into Tobermory, I noticed something really strange. There was not a single person around. Not the sound of a car in the distance, no conversation - just nothing and nobody. A stark difference from what I am used to seeing in the summer.

When I arrived at the Visitors Centre in Tobermory, I had forgotten about the Viewing Tower. So, I put my backpack down in relief and began the approx 6-8 story climb. The view offers a 360 degree vantage point of the surrounding area with placards offering information on the forests that you see, near and far. I took some pictures, sighed a big breath of “AHHH” and then began my walk down. When I reached the bottom, I reluctantly put my bag back on and had a little suckle from my water bladder - which, by the way, did NOT make me sick. The water direct from Georgian Bay was not only delicious - it was 100% safe to drink - at least, at this time of year.

I walked maybe 50-100m and then saw the famous Bruce Trail starting point gate. I had arrived. I had just completed the Bruce Trail. A feeling of ‘whoa’ came over me and I laughed out loud and quietly said, “huh. I did it.” I will add that there was no rush of fulfillment or anything like that. My mom used to get pissed at me because I don't usually get excited about things and that really hit her hard when it seemed like I didn't give a shit about Santa’s efforts on Christmas Day. Jenn describes me the best “I was smiling on the inside,” Mom.

Speaking of Jenn, after reaching the gate, I touched base with her via phone call as I was changing my socks. With no one around, it was kinda nice to have the whole place to myself. Then, I saw a lady with a dog walking over to where I was sitting.

“Sue?” I said.

“Are you Jon?” She said, with an urgency.

“Yes, Hi, How are you?” I reply in a ‘just finished the Bruce Trail” type relaxed tone.

“You’re NOT DONE ! The terminus is over there !!”

Turns out she was right. I wasn’t done.

“It’s only a few hundred metres, though, right?” I joked. So I put on my socks and shoes and we finished the trail together, with her strikingly gorgeous dog, Ranger.

As we arrived at the Terminus, I requested a few pictures. I handed Sue my phone and she began to take some photos.

“You don't like to smile? You don’t like to be in photos?” Sue asked.

It took me a minute to think of something to say and all that came to mind was - “Im smiling on the inside”.

Thank you for reading.