Sunrise views from the top of Blue Mountain offered a daily reminder of why the climb was worth it.

20 Days Up

By Kerina Williamson | Photography by Clay Dolan

On trial. Twenty Days. How hiking the Cascade Trail led to clarity. healing and reflection.

I kept having this recurring dream. Eerily consistent, vivid in colour and rich in detail. I’m standing at the top of Mount Everest after a successful climb, alone. Sunbeams burst through the cotton candy clouds as though the heavens themselves are cheering me on. I scream out at the top of my lungs over the Himalayas for what seems like an eternity, letting out every hurt, frustration and loss that I’ve ever endured. Until finally peace, calm and the warmth of acceptance wash over me. Perfect stillness.

It’s not a nightmare by any means; it’s quite beautiful, really. But it’s also the kind of dream I want to bury with a strong cup of morning coffee while reading the Daily, as it agitates painful memories that I’d rather not dig into. Reassuring myself that some memories are a bit like asbestos, best left untouched and undisturbed.

Looking back, it’s no wonder I started having this dream after losing two of the most important women in my life within months of each other—my Nana and my Mum. Everest, known in Tibetan as Qomolangma or “Holy Mother,” suddenly felt loaded with meaning. I realized the dream wasn’t really about climbing Everest, but about challenging myself and making space to process grief, loss and the lessons life leaves behind. I needed time, movement and solitude to reflect—and this recurring dream forced me to find it through hiking.

I’ve been fortunate to hike amongst the old-growth forests on Vancouver Island, in Banff National Park and along the Skerwink Trail overlooking the Atlantic, but some of my favourite hikes have been right here on our piece of the Escarpment, with access to the Bruce Trail and the trails at Blue Mountain Resort. From deep caves and caverns to panoramic views at the top of the Escarpment, we have trails easily accessible to hikers of all skill levels.

So, while I may never climb Everest or any of the Seven Summits, I decided to set a challenge of my own: hiking up Blue Mountain’s Cascade Trail 20 times in 20 days, roughly the same vertical gain as Everest from the North Base Camp to the Summit. Now, just so we understand each other, I have no illusions that my goal even kisses the challenge that Everest climbers undertake. The contrast between the Himalayas and the Escarpment couldn’t be more pronounced.

Everest dauntingly stands at just over 29,000 feet above sea level and has a vertical rise of 12,000 feet from the North Base Camp. She throws everything at her climbers: frost-biting cold temperatures, unpredictable whiteout blizzards, thin air, icefalls and crevasses, earthquakes and avalanches. High above the tree line, it’s a life-or-death race to the summit and back down again through foot-traffic jams and varying terrain, including the dreaded “death zone.” I imagine that the greatest reward is survival, a remarkable sense of accomplishment and a newfound perspective few others share from standing on top of the world.

By comparison, the Cascade Trail up Blue Mountain in the summer is an enchanted forest seemingly painted by fairy wings. The small trail marker can be easily missed, opening into a world teeming with life, colour and quiet beauty. Bluebells, ferns and wild mushrooms carpet the forest floor beneath grand old oaks, aspens, maples and birches. Cardinals, blue jays, chickadees and woodpeckers sing the forest song while fiery little red squirrels chase plump brown and black squirrels. The air is sweet and pure, and the little girl in me likes to believe shy flower fairies are hiding somewhere within the forest. The Cascade Trail winds through the trees and up the Escarpment, crossing a series of small bridges over the river before hikers are greeted at the top by the Cascade waterfall—the trail’s namesake.

Some days, I bounce up the trail feeling as joyful as a child, appreciating the beauty that surrounds me and amused as nature’s comedy show unfolds. On other days, I feel much older than my years, as though my hiking shoes are full of lead, with silent tears streaming down my face without my permission. But by the time I arrive at the top each day, I feel an enormous sense of accomplishment, clarity and gratitude for having the privilege of this journey. I take a quiet moment alone to look out across Georgian Bay, appreciating how the vibrant forest flows into the enormous bay, sharing the same blue as the sky.

On the final hike of my 20-day, 20-hike introspective journey, I asked myself if I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs for an eternity. The answer was a resounding internal “Nope.” I felt peace, calm and stillness and blew a kiss towards the bay instead. E