Hiking for 10 days with my mom in Killarney Provincial Park

Note: Killarney Provincial Park is located on the traditional, ancestral and unceded territory of the Anishnaabek, including the Ojibwe, Odawa and Potawatomi First Nations. It was previously called Shebahonaning, meaning Canoe Passage. Check out Native-Land.ca for an interactive map, to learn more about where you live. If you have something to add to this acknowledgement, please let me know! Let's learn more together. Thank you. 

A few weeks ago I woke up to a text message from my mom, asking if I would be interested in joining her on a long hiking/camping trip in Killarney Provincial Park. She explained that her partner's knee injury would prevent him from going, and that I was essentially her last hope to embark on this mad adventure into the literal wilderness. She was enthusiastic and persuasive, as she is about basically everything she sets her mind to- there is nary a force of nature that can compete with my mom's tenacity and willpower. The camping sites on this trail - the La Cloche Silhouette - are notoriously hard to book, and organizing adequate stops at reasonable intervals (this is a relative concept, as I would soon learn) along the 78 km loop is a feat in itself. As her currently unemployed daughter with a short history of camping experiences she was hoping she could tag me in, but she made clear that the decision was mine to make. This is the kind of thing, it turns out, that you have to yoke yourself to personally.

Naturally, my initial reaction was a strong hell no. This wasn't because the invite came from my mom, who is a total joy to spend time with, or because I hate being out in nature, which I actually find really healing. This gut response came from my knowledge of my mother's previous backpacking trips, which have overall sounded to me like the worst time ever. Stories of her hiking the Juan de Fuca trail in BC (soaking wet boots for days, not a moment's rest, and a near death experience on a cliffside) and in the Ozarks in Missouri (the main fresh water sources being shallow muddy ponds) came quickly to mind, and I recalled my relief that I had escaped these adventures myself. After so many dodged bullets (in my perspective- in her eternally optimistic way, she insists that all these trips were wonderful) was I really about to willingly join one of these outrageously uncomfortable excursions?

Apparently I was, because as the days passed, I found myself reconsidering. While the prospect of the hike itself remained daunting, I had to admit to myself that there were some good reasons to go. Firstly, my mom assured me that there would be beautiful lakes to swim in at our campsites, and that most of our days wouldn't be strenuous (the former was totally true, but the latter turned out to be a completely misinformed lie). We've been on canoeing-camping trips in Massassauga Provincial Park in previous years, so I knew that these lakes are heaven to swim in, and also that we were capable of working well together on this kind of trip. I had the time off since I'm not working right now, and it's hard to say when I'll have ten days off to traipse in the woods again. I love the feeling of confidence that comes with surviving a challenging adventure, and I knew that ten days away from the mental carnival of my iPhone and the temptations of online shopping could be a boost to my mental health and my bank account. I'm trying to say yes to new opportunities, to push the limits of my comfort zone. And more than anything, I've just been away for two years (including a pandemic!), and I really missed my mom. She's a busy woman, and the chance to make new memories with her on an epic (if scary) adventure seemed like one I should take. No regrets, right? 

Looking back I 1000% made the right decision in going- but it was also hard AF. The trail itself is impressive and intimidating: 78 km (plus campsite hike-ins) of roots, rocks, creek crossings, beaver dams, quartzite ridges and literal cliff climbing. I imagined a long forest trail, but it was more like a combination of obstacle course, boot camp and physical endurance test. Everything ached at the end of each day, when finally arriving to our campsite and throwing our packs down felt heavenly (except of course we still had to set up camp, make dinner, and hoist our food up in a tree before we could finally pass TF out). Sometimes 3 kilometres felt like 30, with brutal hills and valleys (shout out to Moose Pass, a neverending hill) and our fate in the weather gods' hands (excepting a couple days of brutal heat and one agonizing day in the pouring rain, I count ourselves fortunate in that regard). Some folks we met on the trail had literally trained for it, like a freaking marathon. Others were even less prepared than us normies- notably we met a group of young men in sandals, crocs and moccasins (truly a horrifying sight after over a week of hiking in sturdy boots and still struggling). There were moments I actually thought I would cry, and at least one time I harnessed the power of my mind to mentally transport me somewhere comfortable (the aforementioned day of 13 km in the pouring rain). This trail is truly not for the faint of heart, and nature, as it turns out, is not exactly friendly.

But- it was also gorgeous, rewarding, magical AF. A few of the lakes have canoe sites (generally for those willing to brace some brutal portages) and there are a couple old cottages, but overall the gigantic park is truly wild. I've never spent that long out in nature before, without a solid roof over my head. You hike through different ecosystems, levels of calm wetlands, mossy roots, blueberry shrubs, and sparkling quartz rock face. It is deeply beautiful. There are iridescent beetles, and sunfish, and soaring hawks and eagles and egrets, floating above the lakes until they finally disappear from your line of sight. I heard a bullfrog symphony of extraordinary proportions, like nothing I've ever heard before. I was even surprised on the trail by a loud bird I could only describe as a chicken, which turned out to be a ruffled grouse (apparently also known as the 'chicken of the forest', something I did not know existed). If you're as loud as us on the trail, you're not likely to directly encounter the area's black bears, moose and bobcats, but you know they're there. 

As an urban human, at first I felt like a total stranger, an alien to this weird world of new textures, sounds and smells. I was a visitor to this place, belonging to somewhere else, the concrete jungle. But as the days progressed, I remembered that we too are a part of this place. We are earth's creatures, not aliens to the natural world, though it may seem alien to us. I felt immense gratitude for all the people who have fought for the continued existence of nature here, those who have protected the park and Indigenous peoples here and elsewhere, who have been the stewards of the land for many, many generations. It is important also to remember that many state parks have a colonial history, as this 'wilderness' land was actually inhabited, and displacement of Indigenous peoples is part of the story of our beloved parks. For those of us who are settlers (descendants of people who voluntarily settled here as part of Canadian colonialism) in this beautiful country, I hope the profound and precious experience of nature can help us remember our responsibilities towards this place and its peoples. Let's learn to balance belonging to this planet with being settlers in this place, an ongoing journey that has the power to help heal our environment and our relationships with each other. 

Reflecting on my hiking trip, it's hard to wholeheartedly recommend this trail to everyone I know. Despite being young and healthy I found most days very difficult, it isn't accessible to many people with various health conditions and mobility needs, and it could be legitimately dangerous for the woefully underprepared (wear hiking boots, people. Please.) That warning aside, I really suggest you do it if you are able to, because it was a sublime and perspective-shifting experience, and in our hectic lives that can be hard to come by. Thanks to my mom, for always looping me along on her wild adventures. Stay tuned for a how-to article cowritten with her, as we share our hard-won advice for taking on the La Cloche Silhouette trail. And remember to share any info, thoughts or comments with me below or via Instagram (@thefrannable) or email (francesmaychak@gmail.com). 

love, 

    frances