Adventures Along the Waterfront Trail

by: Kathlene R. Willing

Part 1

Listen up buckos as I recount my travels along the Waterfront Trail from end to end on my trusty hybrid from Niagara-on-the-Lake to Toronto in the Summer of 2002 and then from Toronto to Trenton in the Summer of 2003. Looking for adventure and challenge, I found it. My adventure was journeying into the unknown and the challenge was reading the map and finding the signs at critical turns. Not always easy, for a little old lady in her 60s.

Summer 2002 - Day 1 - Niagara-on-the-Lake (NOTL)

It is Monday, July 15th, and I am excited. My colleague, Winnie (a young whippersnapper in her forties), and I make our separate ways by car to begin our journey. I am driven by my daughter, Elizabeth, granddaughter, Avigal, and husband, Michiomi, from Toronto to rendezvous with Winnie and she by her husband, Dave, from Niagara Falls. High noon, we arrive in front of the historic Prince of Wales Hotel as arranged and say goodbye to our loved ones. Raring to go, we slather on the sun block and head into the unknown.

It’s been a summer of incredible heat: hot, hot, hot, but that hasn’t deterred us from looking forward to our four day trip back to Toronto. Tonight we will spend in Niagara-on-the-Lake. Now it’s not like we’d never been to Niagara-on-the-Lake before, but it has usually been to go to the Shaw Festival, maybe parade down the main drag, or shop until we dropped. But this trip was not that kind of trip. It was to boldly go where we hadn’t gone before. So we avoided the usual.

Like two schoolgirls out of the convent we wantonly ride around Niagara-on-the-Lake (NOTL) willy-nilly seeking the sights. Well, actually we have our map and are heading for Mary and Mississauga Streets where we plan to do the first part of the Waterfront Trail. We catch sight of the signage for the Waterfront trail and take it to its beginnings near the Fort George National Historic Park. On our way, we pass by the Shaw Festival Theatre, and have momentarily regrets. When we planned our itinerary, we didn’t know that the theatre would be “dark” on Monday and we wouldn’t be able to take in a play. Otherwise we might’ve started on a Tuesday. However, that’s only a passing regret and we continue wend our way under the tall trees which cool our brows.

At Queen’s Parade, we happen upon a winding trail parallel to the Niagara River and the Niagara Parkway. Eureka! We glide along catching glimpses of the Niagara River and follow it towards Queenston. We keep asking ourselves, “How far is Queenston from where we were?” Our sallies with the map aren’t much use. In our excitement, who thought to check the odometers before we started the trail? Neither one of us and that would have given us an indication. So like our children we hear ourselves, “Are we there yet?” Alas, not yet, and we are getting hungry.

After some time, we worry that we’ll miss the sights in NOTL; and of course, our grumbling stomachs remind us that lunch hour has passed, along with several eateries. We beetle our way back to Kurtz Orchards to enjoy a country-style lunch and sample some gourmet foods. While waiting for our lunch we drool to the aroma of warm baked goods, hot apple cider and scented candles. By the time our food is ready, it’s hardly surprising that we wolf it down. However, with full tummies we’re ready once again to tackle the world.

Next stop is to return to the Waterfront Trail to take the other part we missed in the park, and then to traverse and explore the back streets of NOTL. By 3:00 pm the temperature is hovering in the 30s and our brows are no longer cool. Ever practical, we decide to search out the Avoca Bed and Breakfast that I’d booked over the Internet for the evening. It’s a slight distance out of town off Lake Shore Road. We agree we’ll drop our stuff off, take a shower, and then spend some down-time reading while the heat dissipates. Thanks to our skillful map reading, we find Sentry Circle and a sign on the lawn with the words B & B. Relief is in sight. No one answers our fervent knocking and ringing except for several friendly Siamese cats. Petting the cats, we sit on the front porch thinking, the owner must be out shopping. Half an hour later we are still waiting, but we’re cooled off sufficiently enough to head back into town. Winnie suggests a trip to the bank and some more exploring.

Back into town, we dismount our bikes and hitch them up to a tree near the bank. “Crunch” goes Winnie as she steps around her bike. “Oh, no,” she looks down, “I’ve stepped on my glasses!” “Good move,” I grimace, as she puts them back on. The frames are bent slightly askew. “A little different but harder to see out of,” says she. They definitely need fixing and we check along the main street for a place to have them fixed - no luck. The people in the bank are not much help either. But they do make a suggestion, “Check the phone book for an optometrist.” Brilliant idea, and voila! A quick ride over to Doc so-and-so’s office reveals he’s on vacation.

Banking and exploration taken care of, we head back for the Avoca and at 5:00 pm the owner is still not around. “Maybe the owner’s gone on holiday and didn’t tell us!” says Winnie. “Perhaps we should find a phone and leave a message,” says I. So out comes my reliable folder containing our itinerary with all the names and numbers of the places we’ve booked. To our dismay, but also to our delight, we discover that the address of our B & B is #3 Sentry Circle. All this time, we’ve been waiting at #1! Who would’ve guessed that there are two B & Bs on the same street next to each other? Sheepishly, we moved along the circle to the next house and discover a B & B sign on the lawn as well. What a relief it is to find the owner, Yvonne, at home waiting patiently for us. Bless her heart, she has an air-conditioned apartment at garage level, a snack of cinnamon buns and tea, and a hungry yearning to chat us up and tell us all she knows about NOTL. Later, we are introduced to her friend who drives over in a bright red, newly-restored, 1937 Ford with rumble-seat. We wave goodbye as she goes for a spin and we ride off to dinner.

On Yvonne’s recommendation, dinner is at the Golf Club House. It’s an excellent suggestion - along the water front, high enough above to get a great view of where the lake meets the river. My curried Thai Shrimps and Scallops and Winnie’s Rainbow Trout is satisfying and the price reasonable. In spite of Winnie trashing her glasses and not seeing a production at the Shaw Festival because it’s Monday, we figure we’ve lucked out. I’m not the colour of a lobster - our sun block is working in spite of being in the sun most of the day. The little bag on my handlebars that daughter-in-law, Katy at the Bloomfield Bicycle Company included on my bike is an inspired and useful item to carry as a handbag. Our B & B is an excellent choice and a safe haven. What more could we ask for on our first day?

Day 2 - Grimsby

Yvonne joins us for breakfast and fills our ears along with our stomachs. It’s 8:45 am by the time we peel ourselves away. An early start, but not early enough. With our faithful trail map and goodbyes to Yvonne, we pedal out the driveway and onto Lake Shore Road (highway 87) into the frontier towards Port Dalhousie. Around Six Mile Creek at Town Line Road we see the sign where the Waterfront Trail resumes and we’re on our way to enjoy the sights in Ste. Catharines.

Near Port Weller we ride through Rolph Road Bird Sanctuary where the bracket on my lock comes loose. I stop to tighten it up. We travel along the east side of the Welland Canal, and at Lock #1 we stop on the bridge to watch a large lake freighter as it waits for the water to rise. Then we continue our journey in the wooded area along the other side of the canal where the bracket comes loose again. “Drats!” I stop and tighten it a second time. Keeping the lake in sight, we follow the trail though various city parks. Occasionally the signs are confusing. The park ends and we are diverted onto a city street. However the map helps us as we thread our way from one park to another.

And then there it was in the distance, Port Dalhousie Harbour with boutiques and restaurants, Lincoln Marina, and Lakeside Park. We arrive at 11:00 am - too early for lunch. Besides, we discover as we snoop around, the restaurants aren’t open yet anyway. Winnie gets an inspiration. “Hey why not see if we can find a place to get my glasses fixed.” says she. “We could also look up a bike shop to fix my lock’s bracket on the frame,” I reply. Bright idea! So we thumb our way through a telephone book and find an optical store near Lakeport Road and a bicycle shop right in town. A ten minute ride finds us waiting in the store while a sales clerk fiddles with the frame of Winnie’s glasses. Carefully and patiently she bends it as far as she dares, almost back to normal, without breaking the metal frame.

Phew! actually it was a heart stopper - especially since we knew that the person who normally works on glasses went out for lunch and wouldn’t return for at least an hour. However, Winnie’s crestfallen look convinced the sales person to do the job, and we hoped for the best. With our faith, restored in our fellow man, we return happily relieved to a joyous lunch and some window shopping in Port Dalhousie until 2 pm. The temperature is somewhere in the 30s again, and we are getting too warm. Before leaving we indulge in a yogurt smoothie and a search for the bike shop - which ends up being closed. I take the bracket off and put it and the cable lock into my handlebar bag.

Heading east along the lake and then up Cortleigh Rd we run out of the trail and continue along Lakeshore Road to its conclusion at Louth Rd which dumps us into NO MAN’s LAND - the North Service Road along the QEW. Thirty-five degrees Centigrade, no shade, and relentlessly hot pavement with shimmering heat emanating from it in the distance for the next 8 kilometers to Jordan Harbour. This is no Yellow Brick Road! It’s our fate. We take a good slug of water, grit our teeth, and pedal onward stopping wherever we can find a small tree that provides a bit of shade to get out of the steaming sun. Whereupon we stop, have a short rest and another slug of water while checking the map to see how much further we have to go. This occurs about every ten minutes until at last, we arrive at Jordan Harbour and some relief in the form of an oasis - an air-conditioned restaurant and motel.

Forty minutes in the restaurant drinking a tall cool one and gazing out the window at the lake is enough to bring our boiling point down to acceptable limits. It gives us the heart take up our bikes once again. Back out into the simmering sun and the oppressive heat, we stop to take a picture of the old three-masted ship beached in the water alongside the motel. Unable to go aboard and no sign around, we could only imagine why it was there or how it got there. “Maybe Pirates beached it and buried their treasure in the sand?” I conjecture. “Yeah, like in this heat we’ll stick around and dig it up,” replies Winnie sarcastically. We veto that idea. So across the Harbour we go avoiding the five kilometer side trip down to the town of Jordan. We are sure it’s too hilly for this heat. Along the North Service Road for another 11 kilometers we trudge using our tried and true strategy of stopping every ten minutes for shady pit stops.

At last the outskirts of Grimsby are in sight. As I peer through glazed eyeballs, I spy a Nursery ahead and a swimming pool! “We’re saved!” In my heat tormented mind, I imagine jumping in the pool, and maybe even asking the owner for permission. But as I near the driveway I see something even more inviting. The girl working in the nursery has a sprayer in her hands and is watering the plants! It’s now or never. I approach her looking my sweatiest, “Would you spray us?” I implore her. She looks askance and rolls her eyeballs back in her head, and hesitates. “Maybe she’s thinking of calling the looney bin.” I think. But she doesn’t, she turns the hose on us! “Ahh, relief!” I seriously entertain passing out, but that’s not a fitting thank you for humanitarian aid.
After our refreshing spray, Winnie and I continue along the road which turns into Lake Street and we spot the Waterfront Trail signs once again. We’re out of the woods and in Oz (renamed for our purposes, the town of Grimsby). Along Lake St. we come to Baker Road and our next B & B where our hosts, the Campbells, settle us into our room. Although pleasant, they are not as gregarious and welcoming as our previous host, Yvonne. When making Internet arrangements, I was assured of a spot to put my bicycle. However, I’m not prepared for his solution. He wants us to leave our bikes out in the yard, unlocked! “No way, Jose! not my precious hybrid.” We dicker a spot in the back yard where he’s building a small summer home and attach them securely to one of the studs.

Our request to sit on their air-conditioned back porch is met with hesitation and they direct us to sit outside in the gazebo by the lake. I guess they believe in separating them from us. Thank heavens our room is air-conditioned and comfortable, the shower provides us with a reprieve, and our breakfast turns out to be hearty and delicious. However when it comes to paying they insist on cash - no plastic. After our shower, we noodle about town to find the Campbell’s recommended restaurant for dinner. South of the QEW on Ontario Street, it turns out to be a big hit - an older home converted into a gourmet restaurant. It’s air-conditioned and busy. Even the locals think it’s great, so we stay and have a lovely meal with wine for $30 each. Over dinner, we strategize thinking of the forecast for Wednesday, more of the same and hotter. “Let’s request breakfast for 7:00 am and get an earlier start. That way, we’d have the advantage of cooler morning air on our trek to Burlington,” I suggest. “Then we can spend time in air conditioning or find some shady spot until 3:00-4:00 pm before sallying forth to Oakville and our next B & B,” Winnie counsels. That determined, we inform our hosts and turn in for a restful night.

Day 3 - Oakville

After talking our hosts into the earlier breakfast, they don’t join us. We manage to get out of there at 7:55 am. Not bad considering... The third day of our cruise ahead looks good in spite of a 13 kilometer stretch of the North Service Road between Grimsby and Cherry Beach in Stoney Creek. Cooler morning air makes it much more acceptable, and we take some side roads nearer to the lake, parallel to the North Service Road which renders it more pleasurable as well. We even take time to appreciate the birds singing and the flowers growing as we pass by Fifty Point Conservation Area and some homes.

At Cherry Beach, we arrive at the next sign for the Waterfront Trail and on top of things. We’re considerably warmer but still fresh enough to continue. The trail directs us through a park and some side streets. We cross Grays Road and arrive at large park in the City of Hamilton. Having campground facilities, there are tents dotting the area. We commandeer a picnic table and look around. There’s a sign indicating the Breezeway Recreation Trail where we will be heading shortly. Here comes a solo cyclist emerging from the trail and loaded for bear! There isn’t any more space on the bike or his back for another item. The poor guy is dripping wet; the sweat’s coming off his forehead in rivers! He’s such a sight, we reach for our cameras.

This is the first time we have seen another cyclist and we are anxious to chat with him. We discover that he’s Japanese from Tokyo and left Toronto that morning (hence the rivers of sweat) and is heading toward Niagara on the Lake. Roughing it and camping out, he’d slept in a Toronto park last night and commented that it wasn’t a very comfortable sleep so he got an early start, like 6 am! Intending to get there today, he asks us how much further he has to go. He hauls out his Ontario map and asks us our opinions. He’s not even traveling along the Waterfront Trail, but using the highways. How can I tell him the truth? Judging from his determination he’ll probably make it if he doesn’t die of heat stroke. I hate to tell him we’ve been in transit from NOTL since yesterday. Worse yet, I don’t want to dampen his spirits by telling him about the Grimsby to Port Dalhousie run. At the rate he’s traveling he’ll probably be in the thick of it around 3:00-4:00 o’clock. We exchange photo-ops with him and go our separate ways, he toward NOTL and we through the Breezeway!

The remainder of the ride along Hamilton Beach into Burlington is exceedingly pleasant. Beach Blvd and Eastport Rd under the shadow of the Burlington Skyway Bridge are shady, and have very little traffic to contend with. We stop for a picture before going across the lift bridge on the Burlington Canal, and a group of cyclists are passing us. They head down the Waterfront Trail along Beachway Park. “Follow those bikes!” we both say and are on our way back into paradise-tall weeds, wide path and cottages. Then we come to a short bridge and boardwalk to our right where we spy a group of bikes. We park our bikes and walk over the cattails toward the lake. The cyclists we had followed are all congregated and taking a dip in the lake. It looks like such a good idea that we follow their example. The water is cold but very refreshing. I take a few photos of the occasion. Within spitting distance is the skyline of Burlington.

We near Burlington, and a look at the trail map shows a side trip to Hamilton. Seeking flat land and small grades, we eschew the hilly terrain it suggests. So we veer right and go directly to Burlington arriving just in time for lunch and some air conditioning. We carefully chose a restaurant that affords us a place to eat and lounge for several hours. The waiter is quite friendly and allows us an out of the way corner by the window where we dump our belongings, eat lunch, and watch the world go by. We inquire about bike shops and he gives us the name of two of them both near each other about one kilometer up Brant Street. We eat a delicious lunch, sit around, read and chat until 1:30 pm. We figure we’ve worn out our welcome as we are the last ones in the restaurant. Outside we go and find a grassy area by a parking lot that’s breezy and shady. The breeze is refreshing and Winnie reads some more while I write in my journal.

About 2:30 pm I’ve had my fill of daydreaming. It‘s time to head up and search for the bike shops before they close! I want that bracket fixed, and my seat is at such an angle that I keep sliding off it. We find the bike shops just about where the waiter said they were. We browse through the bigger, air-conditioned one - too large and impersonal for our tastes. This busy shop separates the mechanics from the vast unwashed masses, so we head off to the smaller one up the street. We are greeted by a friendly mechanic, who cheerfully adjusts the seat with no difficulty, however, the bracket poses a different problem. The washer broke away from its moorings and it’s not possible to tighten it up for any length of time (I already knew that). He suggests taking it back where I got it.

And so we’re ready to tackle the trail again and head for Oakville. It’s a tad cooler and the sun’s angle is more acute (rather than being hot it’s only very warm). We thread our way back down to the Waterfront Trail and pedal with the sun at our backs on the paved and shady trail along Lake Shore Road making the warmth tolerable - we only need to stop once for water. An hour later, 4:45 pm we arrive at our next stop - The Bronte B & B and our amiable hosts, Christine and Terry, mother-in-law Sylvia, and the girls (two precious little dogs). They gladly put our bikes into the garage, and not only offer us a glass of wine, but a swim in the pool as well! No way can we turn them down. They usher us to our “suite” with attached bath and sitting room. We quickly peel our sticky clothes off, pull our bathing suits on, and jump into the pool’s inviting waters. The temperature on the porch in the shade is a mere 31 degrees C, but we are cool! We jump out when we have our fill of the water. The chilled wine is waiting on the patio with our hosts. One could get used to this kind of treatment!

But it doesn’t stop there. Although it’s within walking distance, Christine offers us a ride to the Bronte Harbour area where the restaurants are. She’s going to the store and gives us the lowdown on some restaurants. Her description of the newest one in town, the Twisted Fork, and its chef, Michael Phillip sounds like just the place for our last night on the trail.

Before treating ourselves to dinner and to work up an appetite, we walk along the harbour area and take in the sights in the park. The gentrified harbourfront has a boardwalk to stroll along the water. In the park area, a youth choir from the States is entertaining the crowds. Having our fill of this scene, we wend our way to the Twisted Fork and our meal is truly a gourmet’s delight: chicken and artichoke with pasta tower, salmon encrusted with three mustards, and topped off with the three berry dessert in triple sec, ooh la la! As we walk home contented, we’re still cognizant, even in the evening, of the oppressive heat and the rising humidity - a sure sign of rain. We wonder what the next day will bring and pray the rain holds off until we get home.

Day 4 - Toronto

We slept peacefully and arose to the scent of blueberry pancakes wafting its way into our consciousness. Terry, Christine, and Sylvia and the girls (after chatting us up over breakfast) send us merrily on our way with fruit, muffins, and my leftover toast to tide us over. We clip merrily along enjoying the breeze and the lack of sun. Being an overcast day, makes the warmth tolerable. We couldn’t be happier as we cycle along Lakeshore Road and the neighboring streets. With the lake in view, we pass notable milestones along the way - Ford Drive, Winston Churchill Blvd, Southdown Rd and Mississauga Rd. We arrive at the Rattray Marsh and dismount our bikes to walk through it as the sign suggests. Surveying the wildlife and the ocean of cattails beyond the boardwalks, we park our bikes and wander aimlessly on the paths and marvel at the sights and sounds. We finally reach the end after circling around for a while and get back on the bikes and walk along a beach. We are off again, and spy the “Three Sisters” (three smoke stacks along the lake) that signify we’re approaching Toronto. Keeping our eyes on them and the passing scenery, our pace picks up. The excitement of coming home is becoming palpable. The stacks are getting closer and closer and suddenly, they’re at our backs.

In the city of Mississauga we take a break at Marie Curtis Waterfront Park and meet another interesting character. He’s boiling water on a portable electric hot plate that’s plugged into the park building. “What on earth is he doing with an electric hot plate?” we wonder. He explains to us he’s travelling across Canada in his car with all his worldly possessions. He’s redesigned his Honda Civic to accommodate solar panels which provide him with heating and air-conditioning. Originally from Yugoslavia, he travels and works when necessary and is planning to do the same in Australia when he’s done with Canada. He jokes about the treatment he sometimes gets from the police. As we leave him, we take a picture of the car.

We cruise into Mimico by the Lake by 1:00 pm and we stop for a sandwich. “Hey, how about visiting Chris?” asks Winnie. (Chris is a fellow teacher) “Do you know where he lives?” I ask. “On second thought those clouds look ominous, and I don’t have his address,” replies Winnie. “We’d better be on our way.” We left Mimico, and the remaining ride is most pleasurable - along paved trails through the parks stringing the Toronto waterfront. We knew we had “arrived” when we sight the Humber Bay Bike Bridge and come to the Martin Goodman Trail. “Just a minute let’s get a shot of that.” suggests Winnie and we stop for another photo-op.

Heart pumping, adrenalin coursing through our bodies we pedal with the roar of the Gardiner Expressway to our left and then slip onto the quiet trail past Ontario Place and reach the foot of Strachan Ave where we leave the trail and turned north. We stop two girls in Bellwoods Park and ask them to take our picture. Then with big hugs on both sides, we part company and wend our separate ways home.

I arrive on our doorstep at 2:30 pm and within a half an hour the rain comes down - in buckets! I am content. My odometer reads 149 kilometers; I feel like a million; and my tush is only slightly sensitive after four days on the road. The memories I’ve stored will carry me through to next year when I complete the trail from Toronto to Trenton. My first journey has ended and I can tap into its riches all year.