Adventures Along the Waterfront Trail

by: Kathlene R. Willing

Part 3

Day 3 - Cobourg

Today was the best ride of the entire trip. The wind was at my back, the fatigue in my legs had diminished, the sun was playing hide and seek behind fluffy clouds, and the roads were wide open with very little traffic. Much of the ride was on paved roads with the lake fully in view. The hills rolled gently and the curves were wide. There were a few good grades going downhill - hit 29 km/hr going down two of them! This may not sound like a lot, but for someone who is traveling at an average of about 10-15 km/hr, it is heady. What goes down, must come up, but at a slower speed and the absolute lowest gear - 3-4 km/hr. That’s just fine with me.

A hearty pancake breakfast fills me up. I’m stuffed to the gunnells. At 9:20, I leave the Marina Motel after briefing Michiomi about the park in Cobourg where he might enjoy the scenery and reading before meeting me at my former colleague, Anne’s house. The torrential rain of the previous night is pretty well dried up. The breeze is a bit cool, but I’ve put on several layers of clothing. I head south along the road to the East Beach Road where a photo-op is waiting for me - a good view of a cliff (well not actually a cliff cliff, but a sharp decline to the lake. Then I coast along back up toward the 401 and into the Wilmot Creek Community. This private community is gated and I blithely pass the gates and keep going. “Must be okay. No one’s after me to come back.” I breeze along through this peaceful community and imagine myself in this idyllic spot. “The residents have a great view of the lake. The houses, built on slabs, are one story - a plus as one gets older. The people in the yards appear to be seniors, like me. Lots of room to roam around on my bike. Unlike some people, I’m not attracted by the golf course. Hmm, there’s a fly in the ointment - convenience stores are missing! I’d be dependent on a car for all my needs. Scratch that!”

By necessity, I nip up to the South Service Road as it looks like none of the community roads connect with Cobbledick Road where the trail resumes. When I get to Cobbledick I search for the trail signs - none to be seen and a decision to be made. “Is this to be repeat of yesterday? Hmm, my reading of the map suggests there is something to the right, but nothing is in view. However, there is a trail along the railroad track. Perhaps that is what it is?” Another flip of the coin and I blaze my way down the trail along the track. “Ohh, never mind the blaze, I’m wriggling.” I’m trying to stay upright as the size of this gravel is humongous. This makes me glad to have semi-knobbies and hydraulic suspension on the front forks. But I am now sure that this is not the trail. It doesn’t take a turn south through the fishing area according to the map, but continues straight along the tracks. Oh well, I soldier on toward the next intersection to Toronto Street and pick up the trail again at Mill Street in Bond Head. Wheels spinning blithely, I continue down the hill toward Bond Head on the lake
At Bond Head, I stop for a few photos and contemplate the tranquil loveliness of mother earth and her waters. By now it’s a little warmer and the clouds are pretty well gone, so I shed a layer of clothing. Life is good, but I still have a long stretch to cover between here and Port Hope with no rest stops. Up the hill I chug. Along Lake Shore Road I play cat and mouse with the SL&H and CN railroad tracks - from south of the tracks to north of the tracks and then back again. But it’s a clear day, only a few trains whistle by, and there’s hardly any traffic to contend with. On numerous occasions, I‘m fortunate to have the lake in view. I take a side trip down Port Britain Road to the end. Prop the bike and take a swig of water and sit on a rock. Lulled by the waves gently lapping the shore, I imagine sitting here all day. My trusty bike waits patiently and communes with nature as well. That deserves a photograph before I take off again.

At a railroad underpass, just before Port Hope, I hear two cyclists approaching me from behind. I feel like chatting but they’re in a hurry. My muscles want me to take it easy up this grade and I’m not moving fast enough for them. “We’re coming in from Oshawa and heading for Port Hope,” is all I get from them before they shoot ahead. “Port Hope, ahh, I am so looking forward to you.” This is my nostalgia trip. I taught at the Institute for Technology at Trinity College School (TCS) for three summers and spent many joyous hours riding around the area. I can easily spend several hours there before I have to push on to Cobourg.

I arrive in Port Hope at 11:40 am with enough time to pop into the Thrift Shop and try on a few items. Forty minutes later, I come away with a $4.00 blouse. I purchase another bottle of Gatorade at a variety store and mosey down to the park along the Ganaraska River. A group of children in a summer camp setting are playing tug-o-war with the counselors. It looks like lots of fun. Eventually they tire of that and play other games while I munch an apple. An hour later I’m ready to return to the trail along the lake shore, find a porta-potty, and then ride up to TCS. By this time the weather is beginning to change. Earlier, when I came out of the store the sun was shining and it was hot. Now clouds are moving quickly and the waves are slapping the shore. “I wonder if I’ll make it to Cobourg without getting wet? Maybe I ought get outa here.”
“What am I saying, I can’t just come to Port Hope without riding by the old school.” Up the hill I go and it’s just as I recall it with some new additions. The campus is quiet, there’s a few cars in the lot, and only a few people around. “I wonder if they’re having classes?” But I decide not to go into the buildings. I ride around the campus until 2:00 pm. “Time to move on.” I’m finished with nostalgia lane and ready to go on the last leg of the journey for today. I head back to Highway Two and its wide, paved shoulder and pedal my way to Cobourg under increasingly, overcast conditions.

Just before getting into Cobourg’s downtown area, the map directs me south toward the lake shore and then along the lake toward the harbour. I pull into Victoria Park at 2:35 pm and what do I spy? “Oh my gosh, the Peugeot! Looks like Michiomi is still here. I’ll have to look for him in the park.” I head for the car and just as I approach it, the back up lights go on and the car begins moving. “What impeccable timing on my part,” I think as I wave my arms for him to stop. “I was getting cold,” says he, “and was going to head over to the Hancock’s. “Fine,” I say. “It’s too early. Why don’t we both read in the car.” So we sit in the car and read for an hour.

Anne welcomes us very warmly and makes a pot of tea while I freshen up. Just about the time of serving it, Gregg comes home and we catch up on each other’s lives Gregg is oh so passionate and knowledgeable about the history of Cobourg. He’s anxious to take us on a tour after dinner. Anne is equally enthusiastic about her involvement in sewing costumes for their local theatre productions. Again I offer to take our hosts out for dinner, but they insist on staying in instead. So while Anne puts a lovely meal of Rosemary Chicken stuffed with goat cheese together, we chat with Gregg. Later on, we enjoy his 50¢ tour of Cobourg, then retire early.

Day 4 - Brighton/Warkworth

Thursday and day four of my trip already! After a good breakfast and armed with a map of Presqu’ile Provincial Park readily supplied by our amiable hosts, I take some photos and say our goodbyes. With instructions to meet at the corner where Ontario St. meets Harbour Street, according to the map, near the Presqu’ile parking lot stipulated by the Green P sign on the map, we depart for our next rendezvous in Brighton. This will be the tricky. Not having been there, I pray.

Another warm day with the wind at my back and clear roads. It turns out to be a very pleasant and a much shorter ride than the past few days which is why I want to go to Presqu’ile. I follow the back streets of Cobourg and then Highway Two when they run out. After several kilometers I turn south toward the lake again and pick up Lakeshore Road. Once again, I am in my element - wheels purring and a Gilbert and Sullivan song on my lips. I continue through the Township of Haldimand where a group of cyclists on road bikes chattering away in French passes me up. “They must be a local bike club taking a ride. There’s no evidence of panniers or belongings.” A while later a lone cyclist passes me as well commenting about the pleasure of having the wind at our backs. He is definitely a local as further down the road around Wicklow Beach he turns around and grumbles something about heading windward.

This route is lined with farms. A bucolic sight! “Wow, that field of soybeans are shimmering in the sun. Hey, what’s that woman doing at the roadside? She’s actually mowing the grass in the ditch.” At Lakeport, I make a dip down to the lake through a clutch of homes and back again. The rolling hills are easy and I pedal my way through Colbourne and back onto Highway Two. Reaching the Township of Brighton, I’m able to make my way back down to Lakeshore Road and into the Town of Brighton by 11:40 am. The road to Presqu’ile veers to my right, but I see no parking lot. I continue alongside of the road on a dirt path. Work is being done on the roads and traffic is being directed one way at a time. The path takes me into a small parking lot, and under a spreading willow tree sits the Peugeot with Michiomi inside, reading his magazine. “Hallelujah, he found it!” The lot isn’t what I imagined it, but none-the-less it exists. Michiomi grumbles, “It may have been easy for you to find, but it took me a bit of driving around before I found it.”

We attach the bike rack and load the bike. I was ready to go to Presqu’ile. However Michiomi objected. I guess he wasn’t paying attention to the breakfast conversation and the maps being discussed and given out, so it was a surprise to him. He grumbles,” I’d rather sit and read in the quiet shade of the tree.” So I unload the bike and take off for Presqu’ile to ride the 10 km on my own.

Presqu’ile is an L-shaped spit of land that juts out into Lake Ontario. A popular camping area, it’s famous for long and sheltered beaches along its western shoreline. The eastern shoreline is a natural marshland. The road cuts through the centre of the upper part of the L and then makes a circle in the lower half. On my ride, I’m met by two very distinct environments - a sandy and dry area in the upper half of the L where scrub pines are randomly growing on flat sandy stretches, and a forested more moist area on the lower half of the L in which a number of deciduous trees are mixed in with tall pines. Many of the pines appear to have been planted. They’re arranged in orderly rows. The ride through the forested region is shady and cool - a plus as the day is warming up considerably. I follow the road to its final conclusion at the lighthouse and go into the Interpretation Centre.

I discover that although Presqu’ile Bay is quite large, it is shallow and the mouth of the harbour is rather narrow. Therefore many ship wrecks dot the bay and the area. I sit in on a presentation about the sinking of the schooner, Speedy, October 1804, which changed the future of the peninsula. Apparently it was designated as the site of Newcastle, the planned capital of the counties of Northumberland and Durham in the early 1800’s. However when the Speedy hit a rock off High Bluff and sank carrying the prisoner and all the important people who were to try him at the inauguration of the new courthouse, the Governor of Upper Canada decided it wasn’t a such a good spot after all. The capital was then built at a site which was to become Cobourg. Not much was done with the land until 1955 when it became a Provincial Park. “Well, so much for history. I’ve got to return to my waiting husband and our jaunt up to our Warkworth hosts.”

My friend, Ruth, like Sheila is also a member of the infamous CFUW food group. Recently moved to Warkworth from Toronto, she and her husband are in the process of fixing up an old Victorian house in town and operate a B & B. She wanted me to stop on my way, but it’s another 25+ hilly kilometers north of Brighton. Having the Peugeot and Michiomi in tow makes this diversion from the trail easier on me. I return about 1:30 pm from my side trip to Presqu’ile and we munch some fruit before we take off. We arrive at 2:30 pm and find Ruth and Gerry in chaos! Boxes and furniture are piled high in every room, the plumbers are still there installing showers, and they’ve just painted some rooms. Their bedroom is livable and there’s one room and shower upstairs that’s usable. Our dinner offer is gladly accepted.

We sit around on the front veranda reading (out of the way) while the plumbers finish their work. About 4:30 pm Ruth and Gerry are sufficiently organized to sit out on the back deck with some appetizers and wine until we head off to Campbelford where Ruth has made 7:30 pm dinner reservations. We enjoy our conversation, the appetizers, and the meal. It’s still light enough and Ruth and Gerry want to take a ride up to Hastings on Rice Lake to the heart of the Trent River canal system. So we concur (after all they are driving). We return in time to turn in for the night.

Day 5 - Trenton/Bloomfield

The morning of my last day on the road has finally come. This will be the longest stretch as I head for Trenton and the end of the trail. Then I have another 30 km to get to Bloomfield where we’ll stay the weekend with Rick and Katy at their bicycle shop. Ruth and Gerry are such good hosts that we sit around gabbing over an early breakfast. I hate to leave but I want to be on the way, and I’m sure they’ve got their hands full with wallpapering the den off the kitchen. So at 9:00 am Michiomi and I return to the parking lot in Brighton and I discover why it’s not so easy to find coming from the main highway.

What a gorgeous day! It’s warm and the sun is shining. A light breeze is blowing to keep me cool as I make my way around Brighton Marina and the harbour and onto Edward Street (highway 64) to the Murray Canal which connects Presqu’ile Bay with Lake Ontario at the Bay of Quinte. I turn onto Murray Canal Road and regret the choice. It should be named Pot-Hole Alley! It’s a dirt road with small lakes and pot holes for which I have to constantly be on the alert. As I slalom my way along this 5 1/2 km torture track, I manage to stop and take two pictures of boats gliding tranquilly by on the canal. How I wish I could match their ease of travel. I’m becoming extremely aware that my bladder is full and needs relief. The map depicts three roads coming onto this one, but I’m only aware of one - or maybe I was distracted from their existence. But I finally make it back to civilization and to Carrying Place Road (highway 33) where the map also depicts two washrooms. Not so! My anxious inquiries at the canal gate inform me that they are no longer there. Thank heavens for the gas station and grocery store at the corner. I purchase some gatorade to make my request for a washroom legit

Sufficiently relieved and my thirst quenched, I turn up 33 towards Trenton. Into the city of Quinte West I plow, past Bayshore Park, and over to the Trent River and Canal to the end of the trail at Middle Street and the Information building. A clerk confirms that I have made it to the end (or she preferred to see it as the beginning) of the Waterfront Trail. It’s 10:55 am. I kiss the ground and take a picture of my trusty ole bike. I am now an End-to-Ender - in Waterfront Trail lingo that means someone who has ridden from Niagara-on-the-Lake to Trenton or End to End.

Only 30 kms to Bloomfield and a well-deserved, weekend rest. When I get there several hours later, tired but not exhausted, I am warmly welcomed and congratulated by the gang at the bike shop, and of course my faithful support person, Michiomi.