I’ve heard it said that the modern world is making us ill. I’m uncomfortable with my dependence on tech and the weekly reminders from my phone of how much screen time I’m logging. And while I think some of my tech use is helpful or necessary, I get the sense that most of it is not. And when I’m on the road or outdoors, that’s confirmed for me; especially in a Canadian winter, when there’s only eight hours of daylight and it’s bitterly cold. The darkness of these days not only reflects the gloom of my mood, but it feeds it and reinforces it. And so in January, during the statistically worst month of the year for mental health, I drag myself out of bed, drive away from my city, and find a place to hike for a for a few hours.

I’ve started the Bruce Trail, which runs about 900 kilometres (560 miles) from Niagara Falls up to Tobermory on the Georgian Bay and Lake Huron. Today’s trail is actually a side trail, a 12.5 kilometre stretch that goes from Niagara-on-the-Lake and follows the Niagara River, right along the gorge, up to Mile 0, at the start of the Bruce Trail. This hike was fairly tame, but quite beautiful, right along the gorge for most of it; the trail cutting in and out between some bush and around some giant homes.

There really is something about getting outside and touching grass. I feel like I’m watering a houseplant I’ve neglected; my soul drinks up these moments. There’s a healing that happens as I stomp out each kilometre of the trail and enjoy the extravagant beauty of creation. Yet for some reason, because it’s in my backyard and because it’s winter, I usually look past it, like it’s not there.

So why this trail? After Sleeping Giant and The Crack in northern Ontario in the summer, a trail like this seems pretty easy and manicured. Well, there’s three reasons for that. First, it’s winter. I’m not a huge fan of winer, I’m not really good at any winter sports, so I’d much rather be doing a hike when it was 26C, not -6C (75F, not 25F). The second reason is that in September, I was hospitalized for four days. It seems like the diagnosis is hypertension. So I wanted to make sure that on this first bigger hike, after going through some medical stuff, that I wasn’t going to be pushing myself beyond what was wise. And so far, doing all right. It’s a nice little trail, it’s not too cold, and the scenery is nice. The third part was I did want to see Niagara Falls again in the winter. It had been awhile and it’s quite special when it’s frozen over.

Why is it that what’s good for me is often what I avoid? I hibernate when what my soul needs is outside the walls of my bedroom.

I think this is in large part why I’m drawn to a nomadic life for a season. To get out of myself and my despair; to stop waiting for things to change and to embrace the wonder and the curiosity and the beauty of the world and people around me, even—especially—when it’s covered in ice.

And even though my hike for the day was finished, there was more exploring to be done. Because Niagara Falls, in winter, is something else.

In these moments, whether under starry skies or city lights, I am beginning to find a new love for not just life, but for myself and my own company. And so I’m dedicating the next few years of my life to discovery: of myself, of others, and of the edges of the map. There is a voice out there, in the wild and down the roads, that calls to me; beckoning from the mountains and bellowing from the seas. I must follow It, for I sense It knows me, and is calling me to better, broader, and more beautiful things.