[2023 – Saskatchewan, Canada – 105 km – 3 days – Greig Lake Trailhead to Cold River Trailhead]
I bought an excellent map for the Boreal Trail at the Meadow Lake Provincial Park office.
On the map, it looks like the trail starts at the office itself, or the bridge nearby.
I went outside looking for the trailhead, drove up and down the road, walked partway into the forest, but embarrassingly, I couldn’t find the trailhead or any part of the trail.
Reluctantly and humbly, I went back inside the office to ask the Provincial Park employees, but neither of the two people working there knew where it was either.
They looked at the map with me, went outside with me looking, but they were as puzzled as I was.
It occurred to me that nobody had ever previously asked them the question of the location of the trailhead.
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The Boreal Trail is written about in Explore Magazine; popular bloggers have hiked and written about the trail; Saskatchewan promotes it as an amazing destination trail; and considerable expense has gone into creating excellent maps and marketing materials promoting the trail.
But I had a sneaking suspicion that the trail wasn’t actually used that much.
This was confirmed to me when I discovered that the trail was not well-trodden; there is no part of the path that has been worn right down to the earth from the footfalls of hikers.
Indeed, in my three days on the trail, I didn’t meet a single other through-hiker and only one day hiker, despite that it was the summer holiday season.
The biting insects were particularly bad in July, so maybe that was the reason; perhaps the trail was busier in autumn.
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The official website and some popular bloggers list the trail as 135 km, but I think that includes all of the side loops.
If the distances on my detailed map are correct, the through-hike, that is, from the Dorintosh Admin Building to the Cold River Trailhead, is only 116 km.
Since we couldn’t find the trailhead at the Dorintosh Admin Building, I started at the next available trailhead near the Waters Edge Eco Lodge, making my hike 105 km.
When I look at the trail in most places, it looks like someone just dragged a double-track-wide lawn mower through the boreal forest.
Walking along the trail is like walking through a hayfield after it has just been cleared; the grass is prickly and hard and about an inch or two high.
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Long stretches of the trail have been cleared on a slope, with no attempt to ‘dig in’ the trail; it’s like walking sideways on the slope of a hill, unnecessarily tough on the feet and ankles.
It’s not pleasant walking, or even the least bit interesting for most of its length, which makes me wonder why so many of the reviews are positively gushing about this trail.
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However, there are some good things about the trail.
The volunteers are obviously working very hard on maintaining the trail; the backcountry campsites are well presented and managed, and the trail is very well marked.
For the first time in a long while, I didn’t lose the trail even once.
Clearly, they have been working hard on maintaining the trail.
I suspect the trail foliage grows quickly, so it must be cleared frequently.
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I was seeking solitude and quiet, and the Boreal Trail delivered – only the music of the birds and insects, with an occasional sound of a vehicle driving along the gravel road in the distance.
Although the boreal forest can be suffocating at times, since it crowds the trail through most of its length, there are periodic openings that lead to various beautiful lakes.
Water is plentiful; although I started with several litres of water as a caution, I quickly dropped to a single litre.
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One of my challenges was logistical.
How was I going to get from the Cold River Trailhead back to my van?
I discovered a possible solution; at each of the trailhead kiosks along the route, a fellow named Tim advertised that he provided a shuttle service along the trail.
I jotted down his phone number and decided to call him when I was finished.
When I arrived at Cold Lake, however, I didn’t have enough of a signal to make a call; I also was unable to locate a landline in the campground.
I thought I might have to hitchhike back to my car, or possibly hike back.
But as I stared at my useless cell phone in confusion, a youngish retired couple from Montana who were just leaving the campground asked if I was okay.
Since they were heading in my direction, they graciously offered to drive me all the way back to my van.
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As we were driving, I noticed the man wrinkle his nose and then open his window.
I apologized for my trail aroma and explained that I had hoped to swim in Cold Lake to clean the grit off myself.
But the lake was thickly covered in pollen.
The woman said the lake was disgusting and that she itched all over from trying to swim in it, which is why they were leaving the campground earlier than they had intended.
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Despite that the trail was hard on the feet and ankles, it was relatively easy to maintain a good pace.
And there was plenty of wildlife.
I saw two black bears, each on a different part of the trail, one of which seemed determined to force me off the trail into the forest, but which eventually wandered off into the woods itself.
There were plenty of deer, several garter snakes, and a red fox, which stopped on the trail to study me for a good long while, and which only walked into the woods when I decided to take my phone out for a photo.
The highlight of the hike, however, was when a moose and her calf bolted across the trail just a few metres in front of me.
I could hear the loud crashing coming toward me, but not knowing what might emerge from the forest, I steadied myself to flee or fight, and couldn’t help notice my heart rate soaring.
When the moose passed, I waited another minute, wondering if another calf might be coming along.
I wasn’t sure about the danger of coming between a moose and her calf.
Was it like coming between a mama bear and her cub? Or worse?
I wracked my brain – How many offspring did moose have at one time?
I couldn’t remember what I had read, so I waited.
But after a minute, the biting insects hurried me along.
If I were to be trampled to death by a moose, I decided that would be a very good, very Canadian way to go.
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Nights were quiet.
Peaceful.
I slept better than I had in six months.
Only the occasional call of a loon to let me know all was well.