In December, I base-camped in a cottage. By January, the base camp had moved to a yurt. In February, I slept in an igloo, and in March I went backcountry winter camping and slept in a tent. There's only one place to go from there: go backcountry camping without a tent! And that's exactly what I did, on a pre-bug-season April hiking trip to Killarney with Gary and Peter.
It was still too early to go canoeing in Killarney - even though some of the lakes and the smaller bogs were open, bigger lakes like Killarney and Kakakise had ice on them. There was snow in the bush in places too. But none of this was a problem for us, since we were hiking.
I have never been particularly graceful, but I felt like something big crashing through the bush with my loaded pack (and our packs were relatively light, given that we weren't carrying tents). Before this trip, I would have said I'm as graceful as a moose crashing through the undergrowth, but I saw enough evidence of moose on this trip to realize that they have much, much more skill at sneaking through the countryside than I do!
Moose are definitely better at crossing bogs than I am, too. This one was too cool - it was easy walking, though there was a creek. Gary and Peter took off their boots and waded through the feet-numbing water. I walked upstream and strolled across a log.
Killarney is pretty no matter what time of year it is, but the bright light and open canopy of early spring lets you see more than at other times of the year. See?
As per plan, we pitched our tarps, and slept under them. I thought I'd be cold (I wasn't), I thought I'd be weirded out by animal noises (there weren't any) and I thought I'd long for that thin wall of nylon between me and the bush (I didn't). It was great! But of course, we didn't have a drop of rain either of the two nights or the day between them...
We spent all of Saturday exploring the secret lakes and un-named peaks on Blue Ridge. There are no trails, except well-travelled game trails. These are moose highways - and the moose must be very agile.
One of the little lakes we found had this beautiful cliff on the other side. We wanted to go up. This involved a dicey crossing over a creek (maybe Peter's boot has dried out by now?), but we got to the base of it - and it turned out to be not only pretty, but a rock-climber's playground (or so Gary and Peter say, I wouldn't know).

Getting to the top required me to leave my comfort zone for a bit (but then, it's pretty easy to leave that zone when there is an experienced climber both in front and behind you, telling you every handhold and foothold and not even pointing out that they were able to scamper up that rock using only their teeth and pinkie fingers and middle toes).
We had lunch at the top, and looked over at one of the highest peaks in the park. On our maps, it doesn't have a name - only an elevation notation. It is 474m above sea level. Between us and it were lakes, creeks, gullies, cliffs, swamps and probably moose (though we didn't see any), but this didn't mean anything to Gary and Peter, the ultimate outdoorsmen. Fueled by salt pork and peanuts, these guys could conquer anything. I was along for the ride, and happily trudged along behind them.
360 degrees of impressive scenery on a 474 meter trail-less peak.
It took us four hours to get to the top of that peak - but then, we couldn't go for ten steps without one of us taking a picture (this is probably the most well-documented trip in Killarney's history), and we couldn't go ten minutes without one of us seeing something we wanted to check out further. In some cases, "something" was a smaller peak! It only took Peter an hour to navigate us back - without consulting a compass and only cursory glances at a map, this man led us directly back to our starting point without a single mis-step. I can't get over how impressed I am - I'm bumbling along, tripping over stones and using my hands to get up stuff, and I have no idea where I am - Peter is strolling through the same bush with his hands in his pockets, navigating perfectly - and moving twice as fast as I do! If he didn't live in Holland, I think I'd have to follow him around like a baby moose hoping to pick up some skills.
I'd never been to the famous "Crack" on the La Cloche Silhouette trail, so Gary decided that our way out might as well be through that section of the trail. "Trail" is a liberal use of the term - there are blue plastic discs, and there is a track. But there are are also sheer rock faces that would challenge even the most graceful moose (I crawled up them on my knees. Peter skipped along with his eyes closed). By this time it started to rain, but that couldn't take away from the seven kinds of impressive that this view is.
The Crack? Well, it's huge. And it's got vertical sides. You stand at (or in my case, crawl to) the edge of it, and you realize that if you fell down there, you would never have to worry about the weight of your pack again. Then you realize the trail takes you down there. Yikes! But oh so cool.
After that, there was a bit more up and down (which was good, since I got pretty chilled during lunch on top of the Crack). And then it's flat, and a bit muddy, but just when you start to relax and think you're in easy strolling land again, you cross a pile of wonky sticks that some smartass cartographer calls a beaver dam. Fortunately, my hiking poles let me balance on this sort of stuff, and I made it over the last obstacle with dry feet.
What a great trip! Fantastic weather, camping with two of the coolest outdoorsmen I've ever met, some fabulous hiking, and an off-trail ridge (and gully, swamp and cliff) hiking adventure that few people get to have. Sometimes, I can't believe my luck. This weekend was one of those times (thanks guys!).