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When we settled into this region west of Toronto, it was primarily to serve one of our son's special education needs. The farthest thing on my mind was running trails and it would be over three years after moving here before I'd take up triathlon. I began with prowling around our suburban streets as most city slickers are wont to do, but I quickly turned restless as my mileage demands increased. This entailed a lot of sideways glances down pathways and park lanes, but there was not much reprieve from traffic until I ventured into a provincial park only four kms from where we live.
What follows is a photo essay of one of the myriad runs possible there. I shot the pics while I ran, to see about giving a sense of movement, just to see how it came out...
Three minutes of gentle, street-side jogging will get one to the "trailhead"
A look left reveals the valley cut by Bronte Creek...
The crushed limestone path briefly dwindles into a more rugged single-track trail
At one point it leads downhill, one of the few spots you need to watch your footing on very carefully.
Within perhaps 100m it levels off again, and the surface is a cushy stretch of ultra padded packed dirt. 1km
What goes down must come up - a mirror of the previous slope takes us back up to "poolside" elevation
Trouble in paradise: the municipality has decided the quaintness must go, so sewers and paving it is for the outliers. No matter, this will continue for only another few moments...
The road veers right, we bear left and pick up the resumption of what has evolved into a formal MUP (Multi-Use Path), which now runs for more than another km behind a school and more homes. Keep an eye out for dogs & their owners seemingly wanting to start a game of jump rope with you & their leash.
Now it gets interesting. At the verge of civilization, where the park takes over, the march of progress stumbles at the end of the MUP, where the final new curbs and paving delineate the beginning of the real meat-and-potatoes stage of the run.
It's either turn left now or keep running straight into the lake.
The previous left turn at Albuquerque was near 3kms into the run. After passing through a very uninspiring service vehicle yard on this perimeter of the park, one winds up on the compressed gravel ring road loop used only by park vehicles. A few minutes on this brings us to a significant bend in the road...
... the rounding of which reveals a small side path. This should be taken. The road less travelled and all that...
We are now in the
Very Good Place. 4km in. Forest canopy, quiet, fewer yappy dogs, soft padded trail underfoot, no traffic lights, the chipmunks yield our right of way... it's delightful. Just don't veer too far to the left or it's lights out.
At the clearing ahead is a lookout platform...
View from the lookout platform. The darkness of the creek can be seen down below. Heart rate's up, though, no time to dilly-dally...
Every glance to the side provides a nice view of the valley...
Beautiful day for a run.
But don't stop to watch the wheels go 'round...
Just ahead, a clearing. Approaching 5kms.
It may be tempting to veer left on the smaller path, but twisted ankles lurk behind every foot fall. It's best to head straight for the cornfield.
Cornfield?!
This far into suburbia? Believe it. Hang a sharp left just before you strike cobs.
This is the Five K Kurve...
halfway along this arc is exactly five kms from the start. A u-turn here gives a nice pre-work morning run. But, this being the weekend...
...
we carry on.
A few small rolling segments add some variation to the route...
About 5.5km along, another 90 deg. right turn...
Looking to the right, a hay bale storage building...
A sharp left-hander takes one behind the "Maple Toffee House", a converted Victorian farm house used as a museum. In the backyard in March, staff dressed in period clothing roll heated maple syrup around Popsicle sticks over snow, creating heavenly, albeit jaw-binding, treats for visitors...
A rightward glance finds some of the museum's outbuildings and Norman Rockwell's idle thresher...
Now approaching the most distant point on the circuit, as we embark on an enclosed 1km loop...
The sacred and profane: just over that berm in the distance is the Queen Elizabeth Way ('way?), all eight lanes of it...
... all thunder, all the time. (traffic camera image; luckily we don't see this)
In a few hundred metres we can put it all behind us again.
A squirrel's eye view of the trail. Luckily, it is largely smooth, no worries about twisted ankles through here.
Passing lane, handy for sprinting by trios of walkers bogged down by their Fuelbelts and labradors.
Beyond the slope is a sheer drop; best to watch one's footing through here.
The 1km loop being completed, you are spit back out to begin the return leg.
But wait... a sign ahead points to more options...
Hang a sharp right at the sign for some invigorating hill workouts.
A steep path to the left is masked by leaves, so stairs it is. This is where we begin the descent to creek level.
Stop at the bottom of this first flight, and turn around to admire the depths you're sinking to...
Enough staring. Turn back around and keep going down the slope.
With the right mix of weather & timing, you may be graced with some "god rays", easily worth 10 secs/km.
Another staircase brings one down further (seen on the right, from creek level) The arrow shows an alternative slope when the time comes to return. For now, though, we head toward the creek...
Hang a right at the fork ("you never go wrong when you go right") and right again to enter the longest loop available. Suddenly the sound changes underfoot, and there's a spring in your step...
The boardwalk indicates we can't get much lower than this. Luckily traction's not bad, at least on dry days...
After the boardwalk ends, we continue along what, in MTB parlance, is referred to as single track...
T
his eventually widens out at a 't' intersection. Hang a right to get to the water's edge...
hmmmmm... come to think of it, what was
that plant I pushed out of the way back there??
If you had misplaced a salmon-choked creek, your search is over...
Back into the forest...
A staircase is to the right; we can bypass this Rocky Route by taking a ramp a bit further on
about 40% of the way up would be the horizon line
As you gasp for breath, tilt the head back and admire the foliage
Another lookout looms in the distance
Judging by the dodgy railing in the centre of the pic, we may have stumbled upon a veritable Lovers' Leap.
How quaint.
Already rising high up from the creek
Before the final ascent to "ground level" we pass the "Grizzly Tree"
Local legend has it that a group of skinny-dipping college students were caught with their pants down by a passing grizzly high on salmon. Authorities thought the massacre was foul play, given the largest wildlife found in this region was typically overfed raccoons. Yet this tree stripped bare of bark stands as a testimony to one eye witness account from that night: "...[it was] like some huge furry creature running along the trail... I knew it wasn't a runner because it didn't have a heart rate monitor..."
If the little hairs on the back of your neck begin to rise, use this opportunity to squeeze in some intervals up the remaining slope, trying to not imagine a grizzly running after you, reminding yourself that the panting you hear is really your own hyperventilation...
If you stumble or fall or anything Darwinian like that get the hell up fast because...
theremaybeagrizzlychasingyou! Ha. Made ya look.
(If you come upon any hikers or dog walkers who inquire about having heard a little girl's scream, tell them that yes, you heard it too and are running to the park ranger's office to report it.)
Emerging from the forested creek loop is signalled by a brilliant sumac bush in full autumn fire, situated at a 't' intersection... 
Turning right will start the journey home... 
The Five K Kurve
again. Depending on what kind of day it's been - and how well breakfast went down - we're either just over 20 minutes or just under 30 from home!
The sun has risen more fully now, bringing everything into greater relief...
The final forested leg begins :(
Signs of civilization! A couple of runners round the bend of the five kilometre "ring road" during one of many fundraising runs hosted by the park... 
The arrow indicates an abandoned silo. The runners will turn left here to continue raising funds, while we veer right on the journey to pancakes and espresso.
On longer runs it's a treat being able to stop at one of the washrooms encircling the park, just steps off the road, for a quick splash-n-dash
Verdict: good flow, cool but not cold, and neutral-tasting. A delightful pit stop. Easy to overdo it, especially compared to drinking from a cup at an aid station.
To avoid the madding crowds on this day: a handy Plan B escape route to the border of the park:
This spits us out on the final stretch of ring road heading into the maintenance yard, the gateway to this whole shebang...
The hydro towers in the distance confirm the party is nearly over...
With less than three km. to go we're on the last stretch of paved MUP behind houses and the school, still tracking the edge of the ravine to the creek...
One last short but sweet slope about 1km. from home. Must keep all but the most desperate of bodily sounds in check here, as you never know who is just on the other side of the fences. Just sayin'...
An access path between houses on the left will bring us back onto the city streets, minutes from the end. By now, highway sounds from the north end of this route - the four lane Dundas Speedway, er, Street, seen on the bridge over the creek to the right - are loud enough to mask most of those pent up bodily sounds.
Suddenly that's it. We covered about 14½ kms/9 miles. Had we run a fund-raising bandit lap of the ring road: another 5km - not a bad way to start the day! I thank my lucky stars every time I run this, knowing what we have to endure in other times and places just to get our mileage in.
Had the unique pleasure of attending a Specialized LBS 2011 model launch on Friday at a local BMW dealership, and they brought in four Canadian Olympic medallists to sweeten the pot. At one point my younger son, Owen, was patiently waiting on the periphery of a gabfest Simon had going with an adult couple. There being few young fry at this shindig, I guess Owen caught Simon's eye - he quickly wrapped up his conversation and walked right over to us and introduced himself, and promptly set about interviewing my son, discovering his love of bowling and asking for some insights. Owen was on cloud nine (as was his dad, of course).
What a great ambassador for our sport!
