edit: Now with maps!

We headed north toward Belfountain again upon leaving Hart House Farm and stumbled upon an abandoned barn and silo just outside of town. It was neat and the only time the sun shone on us all day.

From here we made our way to the McLaren trail head of Forks of the Credit Provincial Park, but drove the long way round to get there. Cataract is full of expensive houses with militant no-parking signs posted everywhere! Even at park access points. Sigh. Rural gentrification reared its ugly head.

We hiked from the trail head through rolling fallow fields and patches of forest to the ruins of two dams at Cataract. At one point, while on the Trans Canada Trail, we walked alongside the Lafarge gravel pit. This pit is huge! It spans 3 whole concession roads.

The trail descended into the river valley through cedars, then across the river twice, once on rebuilt road bridge that now hosts the Trans Canada Trail and Bruce Trail, and again across the supports for a weir or dam of sorts. The trail hugs the valley wall and has some great views of the cataract from which the hamlet overlooking it gets its name.

We found some strange scavenger-hunt items, or at least we think they were from a scavenger hunt, arranged and initialed at the top of this set of stairs. There was hand sanitizer, dollerama tote bags, and tooth brushes hanging from a treebranch. Weiiird. We found a couple of those plastic bag rain covers and I reluctantly took one at Abby’s suggestion. Did not regret it, for we took a longer route back. We returned back down the stairs we just ventured up after taking a peak at the valley from above.

The extra distance was worth it. We were rewarded with some better views of the waterfall and came across a meadow of trilliums. There must have been thousands blooming beneath the budding deciduous canopy. Unfortunately the light was getting dim and all I brought was my iPhone and my new toy film camera, so I’ve used a shot of two trilliums I took when the lighting was better, earlier in the day at the badlands.

Our pace quickened on the return trip to ward off the seeping cold from the rain. We stopped briefly at another ruin, this time complete with graffiti. We stopped at Naka Fine Japanese Cuisine in Caledon Village on Highway 10 for a surprisingly nice dinner. Who would expect there to be a totally reputable Japanese place in the middle of the country? Overheard a conversation with the chef go in an unexpected direction by the patron that began it.

“Where you from”

“New Market, and before that Mississauga”

Thanks, Caledon, for the excellent day and delayed lactic acid.