The Crack is Holy, Holy, Holy

Ruth Near the Summit of The Crack, Killarney

Early Sunday morning my phone told me that CBC's Sunday Edition was offering a piece on one of my ultimate pet peeves, the noise pollution of leaf-blowers. If you want to watch Ruth's eyes roll back in her head (who wouldn't?) pay attention to her rather than me if the subject of these infernal devices is raised. Apparently there are about 2.5 million of them spewing toxic fumes and their high-pitched whine across the country. 

I didn't have time to listen though, because we were heading out for an early hike on a favourite trail in Killarney Provincial Park on the shore of Georgian Bay. We wanted to tackle The Crack, and because it takes the better part of four hours, return, and involves climbing, some of it strenuous, we were underway by eight o'clock. For the next two hours (a little less, perhaps) we met no human as we walked and scrambled. Nor did we hear any human made sounds. It was bliss.

There was the dawn chorus of birdsong,  and the urgent pounding of a pileated woodpecker, and the thumping mating declaration of a ruffed grouse. We passed several melodious Spring freshets coming down rock faces, and heard the sough of wind through pine trees, which is quintessential Northern Ontario music. 

Methusaleh Scrambles

All this was profoundly spiritual for both of us, joyful and restorative. Finally we reached the famous "crack," a boulder scramble through a defile which leads to the "big reveal" of multiple lakes and Georgian Bay. We had to be careful because there was still ice in the shaded confines of The Crack. It was all worth it for the stunning view. 

When we reached the top Ruth began singing the hymn Holy, Holy, Holy, and I joined her. I read a portion of Psalm 104, the great Creation hymn which celebrates God and all that lives. While this was lovely, it didn't compare to what we were experiencing in the great panorama at the summit, or what we had heard along the way. 

Then a group of six hikers appeared and pleasantly chatted us up. On the descent we met a couple of dozen people in various groups, all friendly and none carrying a leaf-blower, yet the mystical spell had been broken. 

Thank God for the tranquility of that hike. We were celebrating our 43rd wedding anniverary and it was one of the best outings ever.  It was contemplative and holy and a wonderful way to participate in Sabbath.