On Monday we buckled up our snowshoes in the Strathgartney Provincial Park parking lot and rattled over ice sheets into the park. After a southerly trek towards the river we turned westward following a trail sign to Bonshaw Hills. The snow was hard and the path sloped steeply up and downhill. We found the air cold and our toes were soon numb.
A couple walking three dogs on leashes stopped as they approached us. As we drew level to pass, two of the dogs barked highly aggressively and strained hard at their leashes bringing the man to his knees in the snow. If he had let go I do think they would have attacked us. Susan, normally an avid dog lover, was fearful too.
Much relieved, we forged on downhill to a point at which the trail, the river and the Trans Canada Highway all converge. We took the riverbank path beneath the highway and came up on the north side of the road. The river ice creaked and cracked alarmingly as the flow forced its way beneath.
At Bonshaw Hills we struck out north and followed a trail until it passed close to the highway again. There we made a very steep embankment climb to the road which took immense effort.
We swung our legs over the guard rail and clattered across four empty lanes. Taking the no-exit road off the highway, which I had been looking for, we snaked back towards Strathgartney and close to the five hundred foot transmission mast atop the highest ground in the area. We were able to walk on the dry road in boots.
A beagle watching us from the road ahead began barking. He trotted up to us, tail wagging, and enjoyed a brief pet before darting off with his nose glued to animal tracks in the snow.
We reached the highway again and walked on the shoulder for the last few hundred metres, bringing to a close a long and strenuous trek of seven and a half kilometres which had taken us two and a quarter hours.
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