A Good Good Friday

[Jeff Seffinga]

After the usual greetings had been exchanged and a gross of hotdogs consumed, the togetherness of the group had been established and our leader called us together for a group photo. Most of us crowded around the sign and the two waterfall cars at the site. Safety rules were expressed. The crowd ambled toward the gorge, stopping at the great mill stone, and on to contemplate Albion Falls. An old dried bouquet in a tree at the edge reminded us that no one is immune from accidents; the gorge will claim the unwary.
The slow ramble northwestward along the Bruce trail beyween Albion and Buttermilk Falls was punctuated by little surprises: the brilliant colour of a rotting stump,

the play of light through the hemlock branches and on the ground at our feet, the circling of hawks overhead waiting to catch a lift to continue their northward migration, the vista over the east end of the city. Then the weaker flow of Buttermilk Falls was inspected before we slowly continued.
Washrooms were available at the arena, part of the Mohawk Sports Complex, and most of the troupe took advantage to make a pit stop. Only a small number of us pressed on along the route that had been explained. We caught the rail trail at Mohawk, followed it around the back of the afore-mentioned arena and hoped to reconnect with the mass there. It was not to be. Radio communication seemed deceptive so we followed the rail trail on to its end in another parking lot at Albion Falls. The trail continued to rise until it reached a park overlooking the conjunction of the Linc and the Red Hill expressway, then turned left and began to descend. We were greeted by a shallow pond filled with spring peepers all singing at the tops of their voices - until someone approached within six feet. Suddenly all voices ceased instantly, all at the same time!
We came back to Red Hill Creek well above the falls, crossing the stream over a small bridge. We, the leading unit, returned to the start to wait. When the main group came back, many who had the energy took the time to climb down into the gorge to explore and phgotograph. I had made my own slight detour, up the creek from the crossing to explore and photograph the light on the stone and water among the rapids upstream.

A lovely spring ramble with all the joy an afternoon outdoors among waterfalls and waterfallers can bring!