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Kingsberry Crescent to the Summit
This is Carlos taking the experimental route up Mount Tolmie, trying the west side for a change instead of my usual east approach. What I found was a narrow single track with little bridge planks over swampy ground, patches of bare rock, and more hiking than running — especially with a camera in one hand and a voice recorder in the other. I made a wrong turn, retraced my steps (as trail wisdom demands), and eventually rejoined a semi-official path that wound its way toward the top. There were fungi on trees — possibly turkey tail — signs of last summer’s burn, a stray Starbucks gift card, and plenty of mossy rock photo opportunities along the way. Twenty minutes in, I popped out at the summit parking lot, recorded a quick trailer, watched a wary seagull guard his snack stash, and then let the paved downhill carry me back toward Richmond Road. Not a long episode, but a good cross-training climb close to home — less than five kilometres from my fridge. Later: tomato sauce, pizza assembly, and the quiet satisfaction of another small local adventure in the books.
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By JackalThis is Carlos taking the experimental route up Mount Tolmie, trying the west side for a change instead of my usual east approach. What I found was a narrow single track with little bridge planks over swampy ground, patches of bare rock, and more hiking than running — especially with a camera in one hand and a voice recorder in the other. I made a wrong turn, retraced my steps (as trail wisdom demands), and eventually rejoined a semi-official path that wound its way toward the top. There were fungi on trees — possibly turkey tail — signs of last summer’s burn, a stray Starbucks gift card, and plenty of mossy rock photo opportunities along the way. Twenty minutes in, I popped out at the summit parking lot, recorded a quick trailer, watched a wary seagull guard his snack stash, and then let the paved downhill carry me back toward Richmond Road. Not a long episode, but a good cross-training climb close to home — less than five kilometres from my fridge. Later: tomato sauce, pizza assembly, and the quiet satisfaction of another small local adventure in the books.