A Loopy Bruce Trail Tale

By Nicola Ross | Foreword by Cara Williams | Illustrations by Nicola Ross

Nicola Ross tackled the Bruce Trail’s 900 kilometres her own way—by hiking loops instead of a linear route. In this excerpt from 40 Days & 40 Hikes, she shares a 27.8-kilometre trek from Noisy River to Freedom Rock, blending adventure with her deep love for the trail.

Loop hiking is nothing new for Nicola Ross, author of the best-selling Loops & Lattes series—it’s her signature style. So rather than trekking the Bruce Trail in a straight line, she crafted her own route. Using 40 carefully designed loops, she completed an end-to-end journey, swapping road walks for the Bruce Trail’s extensive side trails. This approach not only made for a unique adventure but also allowed for self-sufficiency—no need for car drops or camping logistics.

Ross’s latest book, 40 Days & 40 Hikes: Loving the Bruce Trail One Loop at a Time (ECW Press 2024), is more than a hiking guide. Nicknamed 40/40, it blends memoir, trail wisdom, and a love story—not just for the Bruce Trail but for the landscapes of the Niagara Escarpment. As Ross believes, we protect what we love, and she hopes her journey inspires others to deepen their connection to this remarkable trail.

The following excerpt from 40/40 is adapted from her 22nd hike, a 27.8-kilometre route from Noisy River Provincial Park near Creemore to Freedom Rock in the Nottawasaga Bluffs Conservation Area near Singhampton. It includes one of her whimsical maps and several of her signature illustrations.

Day 22 Noisy River to Nottawasaga Bluffs 27.8 km / 8h 22 min Bruce Trail Map #21/22

At the roadside parking area next to the Noisy River Provincial Park, I met Angela and Annette from Elora. They were hiking south, while I was heading north. In response to their observation that I was well-equipped for a day hike, I explained I hiked for a living. Without prompting, they asked, “Do you write the Loops & Lattes guides?” Nodding yes, I felt like a celebrity. Proudly, they each pulled out a copy of Collingwood, the Blue Mountains & Beaver Valley Hikes: Loops & Lattes and asked me to sign it. This had started to happen with some regularity since COVID hit. For once in my life, I’d been in the right place at the right time. When virtually every activity except eating, drinking, and walking was shut down by the pandemic, people took up hiking. Sales of my guidebooks were already strong, but they tripled in 2020–21.

In a January 2022 piece for the Waterloo Record, Joel Rubinoff wrote, “Local hiking guide beats ‘Harry Potter’ to become indie bestseller.” At Words Worth Books in Waterloo, Waterloo, Wellington & Guelph Hikes: Loops & Lattes had displaced J.K. Rowling’s phenomenon to become the store’s bestselling book ever. At the Bookshelf in Guelph, the same guide was a star. The store’s owner told me, “In 2020, it was our bestselling book by far (even beating Barack Obama’s book) and is in our top 10 for 2021.” I began doing what writers aren’t known for: I was making a living.

With books signed for my fans, I set off. Between my celebrity moment, the ideal weather, sweeping vistas, rolling hills, open meadows, airy forests, and even the spooky cedar groves, I breezed along. When I stopped and wished for somewhere to sit, what appeared? A bench, of course. Fittingly, it bore a plaque that read: “Rest A While, in recognition of James ‘Dave’ Knox, 1944–2021.”

I think of spring as flower season, but all morning I’d been cheered by a summery collection of tall buttercups, daisies, purple vetch, white and purple clover, bird’s foot trefoil, Canada anemones, baby’s breath, and more. Once again, I felt that in comparison with spring ephemerals, these meadow flowers were less complicated. There was nothing sophisticated or shy about them; they exuded happiness.

I came across a soaring elm tree of remarkable elegance, bordered on two sides by a riot of wild rose bushes laden with blooms. This was turning out to be a better hike than I’d remembered. Arriving at the Nottawasaga Bluffs Conservation Area’s parking lot, I began my return journey—first stop, Freedom Rock. Standing on this flat-topped dolostone outlier, bathed in sunshine, I looked over a band of green trees backed up against a sky so blue it looked painted on.

Freedom Rock is a mystery. Someone once etched crudely written philosophical texts into the rock. Before erosion wore them away, these slogans were photographed: “To be fully educated, one must farm five years,” and “A pessimist is a coward, an optimist a liar, a realist a hero.”

Not your typical graffiti. I recalled my motto—”Stay Lost!”—which had once been scrawled beneath a highway underpass near Hamilton but had since disappeared.

On my return journey, I followed a pair of side trails but mostly retraced the main BT. I stopped at the picnic table below the massive elm, admired the wild roses again, and took in the vistas. On another unopened road allowance, I heard frantic cackling. When I stopped to investigate, a tree swallow swooped past me. I ducked, shielding my head. Peering out from below the brim of my straw hat, I saw another bird heading directly for me. It grazed my head before wheeling around like a fighter jet. As I watched it turn, a third bird dive-bombed me, or maybe it was the first one coming in for a second go.