Whenever I travel to Ottawa, I know to make some time for the wonderful splendors of nature that surround the capital of Canada. My most recent visit this late spring was no different.
My first day off, I woke up especially early. The starting light of dawn peeked through my window, casting a soft hue over my hotel room. The morning air was crisp, imbued with the invigorating promise of late spring. It was the perfect day for a hike in the Gatineau Hills, a sanctuary of natural beauty just north of the city, across the Quebec border. With my daypack ready, I set off early, eager to embrace the solitude and serenity of the trail.
Arriving at the Pink Lake trailhead, I took a moment to appreciate the stillness of the early hour. Pink Lake, with its striking emerald waters, lay undisturbed, a mirror reflecting the lush greenery surrounding it. Named not for its color but for the family who settled nearby, Pink Lake is a meromictic lake, meaning its layers of water do not mix, giving it its unique, clear appearance. The sight was captivating, a perfect start to my journey.
The trail around Pink Lake was serene, enveloped in the symphony of nature. Birdsong filled the air, and the occasional rustle in the underbrush hinted at the presence of small woodland creatures. There: a chipmunk running, sniffing, and seeing.The path, flanked by towering pines and sturdy maples just starting their leaf shoots, wound gently around the lake, offering periodic glimpses of its tranquil waters through breaks in the foliage.
As I walked, the trail gradually led me away from the lake and into denser forest. The air grew cooler under the thickening canopy, and the scent of pine needles and rich earth filled my senses. The trail was well-worn but quiet, and I reveled in the solitude, my footsteps the only sound at times.
After a couple of hours, I reached the junction leading to Meech Lake. This part of the hike was particularly enchanting. The path descended through a spring fresh forest, with patches of sunlight breaking through the canopy and illuminating the vibrant greenery. Though too early in the season, I imagined the calls of loons echoing from the distance, adding a hauntingly beautiful soundtrack to my hike, at least in my mind.
Meech Lake appeared through the trees, its surface shimmering under the mid-morning sun. Larger than Pink Lake, Meech Lake is a popular spot for swimming and picnicking, but today it was still early, and the shores were quiet. I found a secluded spot by the water, a small clearing surrounded by wildflowers and moss-covered rocks, and decided it was the perfect place to make coffee.
From my backpack, I retrieved a small camp stove, water filter, a 1Zpresso X-Ultra, my faithful AeroPress, and a small bag of freshly roasted coffee beans. The process of making coffee in the wilderness is a ritual I constantly cherish, a moment of connection with nature.
I filled the pot with water grabbed from a public fountain passed by earlier, and set it on the stove to boil. As the water heated, I grabbed the manual grinder and started grinding the beans, a sampling from Ottawa’s Bridgehead Coffee. The repetitive motion was soothing, and the aroma of freshly ground coffee filled the air, mingling with the scent of pine and wildflowers.
Once the water was boiled, the AeroPress was set up for standard brewing into a tin mug balanced on a flat log. Adding the coffee grounds and pouring the hot water over them, I swirled the coffee slurry gently before pressing the plunger down. The rich, dark liquid that emerged was nothing short of perfection. Sitting on a sun-warmed rock by the lake, I sipped my coffee, savoring the deep, complex flavors. The tranquility of the moment was profound, a harmonious blend of nature and simple pleasures.
With my spirit rejuvenated and my body re-energized, I packed up and continued my hike. The trail from Meech Lake to the King Mountain Trail was more challenging, with steeper inclines and rockier terrain. The forest continued to envelop, with towering pines and birches, their leaves and needles creating a delicate weave of shadows on the ground. The air was filled with the heady scent of blooming flowers and damp earth, a reminder of the vibrant life that thrived in this ecosystem.
I kept my eye out for wintergreen patches, common in this part of Canada, and soon enough, spotted several clumps. A few even showed the last remnants of the red berries they put out in the fall. I snipped a few leaves here and there as I continued my walk, ascending the trail.
The path grew narrower and more rugged, testing my endurance. Yet, each step brought a sense of accomplishment, a deeper connection to the land. After a rigorous climb, I finally reached the summit of King Mountain. The view was nothing short of breathtaking. From this vantage point, I could see the vast expanse of the Ottawa Valley, the Ottawa River winding its way through the landscape like a shimmering ribbon. The city of Ottawa lay in the distance, its skyline a faint silhouette against the horizon.
I found a comfortable spot on a large, sun-warmed rock and decided to take another break. The panoramic view was mesmerizing, a testament to the beauty and grandeur of the natural world. It was time for my packed lunch, a sandwich made at a Byward Market shop, and the second coffee brew of the day.
As before, I set up the camp stove, dosed out the coffee, and added the remainder of my water stores. This time, I crushed up the wintergreen leaves and added them to the pot for the water boil. This may not be for everyone, but it is one of my secret joys in making coffee out in nature: wintergreen adds an exotic and pleasing flavour to the AeroPress brew. Soon, the air was filled with the wonderful lush minty aromas of wintergreen and ground coffee.
Cup brewed, I took more moments to reflect and relax as I sipped the coffee flavoured by nature. Time stretched on, and the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows and bathing the landscape in a warm, golden light.
The solitude of the hike, the beauty of the Gatineau Hills, and the simple pleasure of making coffee in the wild combined to create a perfect moment. There was no rush, no pressing matters to attend to, just me and the boundless beauty of nature.
With the sun moving towards the southwest horizon, I reluctantly packed up my gear and began the descent. The hike back down was leisurely, each step a chance to savor the fading light and the cooling air. I took a different route, passing by the Mackenzie King Estate, the former summer home of Canada’s 10th Prime Minister. The estate, with its charming ruins and gardens, felt like a bridge between the past and present, a place where history and nature coexisted harmoniously.
By the time I reached the trailhead, the sky was painted in hues of pink and orange, the sun setting behind the hills. The day had been a tapestry of simple joys and profound experiences, a reminder of the restorative power of nature and solitude. Eventually, I reached my car and started the drive back to Ottawa, but the day’s experience remained with me.
As I drove away from Gatineau Park, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. The hike had been more than just a physical journey; it had been a journey of the spirit, a chance to reconnect with myself and the world around me.
The solitude of the hike in the Gatineau Hills was more than just a respite from the demands of everyday life. It was a reminder of the beauty and tranquility that can be found in the natural world, a source of inspiration and renewal that is always within reach, if only we take the time to seek it out.
Ethan fell in love with coffee when he lived in Japan for 2 years. He worked in the coffee business as a roasters apprentice and barista until his late 20s, but never gave up a love for coffee. His favourite vacation is doing solo canoe trips in the interior of Ontario.
