The Hike

On Monday we arrived at Cape Breton Highlands National Park. After reviewing our options at the front desk, Nicole and I decided to spend the night in the park at the Corney Brook Campsite – especially since we wanted to experience a night right next to the ocean. And that’s exactly what we got.

Corney Brook, it turns out, is pretty much a grassy lot on a plateau. Below this, accessible by stairs, was the Atlantic Ocean. To get the full experience, we decided to back into a lot right on the edge – in front of a fence marked “Danger: Land Erosion.”

Random scenery from the trail I am writing about.

Once we were parked Nicole and I decided to go our separate ways. You see, as much as we are good friends, alone time is a necessity for our sanity. This, on top of the fact that I was in a very grumpy mood that day.

I must admit, I was a little worried about separating from Nicole. I mean, anything could happen and the numerous signs warning of coyotes were no comfort. But I spoke with some of the park employees and they said that the trail she had chosen was very popular and always busy – that was very comforting. So as Nicole walked up the road to the Skyline Trail, I crossed the street to the Corney Brook Trail.

Just at the beginning of the trail, I ran into a woman who was just emerging from it. I asked her how the trail was because she seemed like an avid hiker, all geared up and such. Her response was kind of unsettling. She said that it was excellent and very secluded. She was the first and last person I saw on the entire trail…

Before leaving, she highly recommended that I grab a walking stick – just in case of coyotes. With those words, she left. The bells on her backpack jingling as she went. BELLS! I can only assume they were to keep the coyotes away…

The mysterious walking stick.

Inching closer to the mouth of the trail, I definitely had second thoughts. But just a few feet in, there was the perfect walking stick … just sitting there waiting for me. Obviously this was a sign that I had to keep going. So I picked it up and continued on my adventure.

Aside from coyotes, fear of less tangible things kept me on my toes. This "tree-mummy" face greeted me along the path. Creepy.

Continuing along, I began to feel more at ease. Until I came across a large pile of droppings*. I don’t know what coyote poop looks like, but I can only assume it would be similar to a dog’s.  This pile did not look like it was left by a canine, so I figured I was still safe and continued on.

Another thing the hiker told me about the trail was that there was a small waterfall at the end. That was the only marker of distance on the whole trail. You see, the trail had no markers, I had no way of telling the time and the trail was a single route, there and back the same way. All I knew for certain was that the trail was 4 miles long – approximately 6 kilometres.

Rapids or small waterfall?

On the way in, time passed a bit slowly. Fear of being eaten by a coyote will do that. So I began to wonder where this waterfall was. Not knowing what “little waterfall” meant, I wondered if the woman had meant the rapids that I could periodically see below the cliff. But I knew the waterfall when I saw it.

Just as the path narrowed with a steep, thickly covered mountainside to the left and sheer drop to the right, I took a sharp turn. And there it was: a very impressive waterfall that could only be described as awesome. Awesome in the truest sense – the waterfall instilling both awe and a slight bit of fear. Having been a relatively quiet walk, the roar of rushing water was pretty startling.

Not-so-small waterfall.

After enjoying the waterfall – and the cool breeze that came off of it – I turned around and headed back “home”. Feeling pretty accomplished and proud of myself, I had a fun and carefree walk. But I don’t know if I should have been so relaxed. Because quite near the very end of the trail, I happened upon a fresh-looking pile of what appeared to be canine excrement.

*I have since come to the conclusion that this was probably moose scat. Thank you Science North!

-Julie