Writing these blogs in hindsight adds perspective – although we are not really that far from this in 2022. People still wear masks. I wonder how we will see this in 20 years time? Will it look strange or will we still be wearing masks? One of the upsides of the Covid pandemic of 2020 was that none of us were travelling for Christmas so we were able to gather for a family hike. And the timing of where we were on the Bruce Trail couldn’t be more perfect. This hike would start in the Dundas Valley Conservation Area and pass by the memorial bench that Kim had installed here for Brett. Then we would end at Kim’s home in Dundas. From left to right – Brooke, Charlotte, Kim, myself, Tess and Ava, canines Stella and Coco. Masks and hats – isn’t it interesting how we know each other by the eyes alone?

Off we go where familiar trails align with our Bruce Trail path.

We entered the conservation at the site of the Hermitage ruins. This once lavish mansion was built from local stone by a Scottish settler in 1855. He created a large working farm with several outbuildings. The Gatehouse exists as a private residence today. The mansion was destroyed by fire in 1934 and the ruins were restored in 2016. Interestingly, the stone mason who restored the ruins did some work for me on the stone foundation of the old Westover store where I am building a veterinary practice. A local museum, the Griffin House, tells all including a story of lost love, murder and haunting. The farm has been allowed to reforest and is now part of the beautiful trail system of the Dundas Valley.

For years I rode horses around the Hermitage before the main portion was restored. I have many pictures of myself on a horse alongside friends on horses standing in front of the old ruins. Seeing them restored now, I feel slightly disappointed and wonder if I liked them better in their previous state as “real” ruins. Perhaps it is just nostalgia and the heavy heart that one feels when memories are all that is left. The world changes and what was once is no longer the same. Even the memories themselves become altered. As time pushes you forward, memories of loved ones lost morph and you grieve not just for the people, but for the lost memories as well.

And some of us just truly live in the moment. The joy of a stick.

On this day we took an important detour off of the Bruce Trail. Kim and Brett had spent a lot of time together in the Dundas Valley, hiking and biking. Recently, Kim had a bench installed in one of Brett’s favourite spots.

I have thought about why we build tangible memorials. With death, we lose the physical relationship with a loved one completely. How they feel to touch and to hold is gone, their voice, their smell is so difficult to recreate in our minds. Daily chat about grief and loss is not something that we encourage in our culture. It makes others feel uncomfortable and it is thought to be best done in the office of a professional therapist. To sit on Brett’s bench brings him safely into the present moment. Kim’s family can all think about him at the same time and feel his strength through the sturdy boards that are holding them up. They are all together once again and that is ok in this memorial place. They know that when we move on today, his bench will still be there and perhaps his strength will help someone else to rest and take in the beauty of the valley.

On every hike, we come across memorial benches. We always make a point to stop and read their name instead of just walking by. They are all little windows into our universal grief. None of us are untouched.

I have a bronze sculpture in my back yard that was created in Isabel’s memory. The horse is forever in motion as she was. The loss of my daughter is with me every day. Talking about her and how I feel everyday is not something that I do. Looking at this horse and thinking about her is. It’s my daily check in with the grieving reality on the inside. This is why we build physical memorials.

The artist who created this sculpture, Patrick Bermingham, is also largely responsible for commissioning the restoration of the Hermitage ruins. Life creates interesting circles.

We walked out of the Dundas Valley Conservation Area into more familiar territory. Another road that I have driven along hundreds of times and I had never noticed this Bruce Trail intersection. Now I will see it every time..

Valley Farm. Another long list of memories for me. Horses, Riding the Valley with Isabel, overnight stay for the annual Valley Ride, veterinary calls, work, good friends, best outhouse ever.. And now this – hiking on by this iconic property.

The Bruce Trail path from Governor’s Road into the town of Dundas was unknown to me. Kim’s family had done parts of it. Normally if they wanted to hike, bike or ski in the Valley, they would just drive there – 6km according to Apple maps. By the Bruce Trail it is a mere 5.7km walk to Kim’s house from the Valley. We were taking the shortcut!

And this would be why I had never been on this trail before!

We had some great conversations along this stretch. Sharing our school day stories with the girls and hearing some of theirs. Talking about school lunches sticks in my mind. Kim has never been known for her culinary skills and her three girls all remember her curry phase when cold chickpea curry was their lunchtime staple. They had quite the laugh about this, it’s always good fun taking a poke at Mom. A funny memory today, it will become a fond one for them in time and then one day, a cherished one.

There were numerous abandoned constructions along this route. The young minds imagined who or what might inhabit this one. I can’t recall ever being brave enough to go into something like this, although I do remember finding a grave with Kim while canoeing in the far north. Our younger minds were excited with fear and created many possible scenarios then.

This day became very wet! We still stopped to make sure we were capturing these memories.

As we approached the town of Dundas, the trail followed the railway line by the Dundas Golf and Country Club. It dropped us literally into our own backyards. At the bottom of the Dundas hill, we were only 15 minutes from my farm in Flamborough – the closest we would be on our entire Bruce Trail adventure.

And to Kim’s house it was a just a short walk. How many countless times do we travel this road? Who knew this was the Bruce Trail?!

Kim and I always mark the beginnings and ends of our hike with photos. Here we left the official Bruce Trail to turn onto Kim’s street. They are nicer photos on this hike – not the awkward selfies we take when we are on our own!

Today’s true ending photo. A weary crew after a very wet, 8.4km hike. I wonder if we will ever get them to go with us again!