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La Cloche Silhouette Trail Review: Ditching the Tent and Crushing it Straight Through


Part 1: The Plan, the Distance, and the Pre-Trip Chaos

Most people take 7 days to tackle the incredibly rugged 78km La Cloche Silhouette trail. In the past, I preferred to hike it in 4 days. However, this year at 52, I decided to really challenge myself and set out to complete it in one push, solo, with no camping breaks. My plan was simple: complete it counter-clockwise starting at 4am. with a goal of finishing 24 hours later.


The universe started testing my resolve before I even arrived. The day before departure, my dog sitter had an emergency, forcing a frantic scramble to find a backup. Once on the road, a tractor-trailer crash on Highway 69 gridlocked traffic for hours, meaning I didn't crawl into my George Lake campsite until 11pm But the universe vastly underestimated me; I was up and readying my pack at 3am and headed down the trail at 4am.


Part 2: Pure Superwoman Mojo (The First 16 Hours)

The first 16 hours of this trek were nothing short of magic. My body felt electric, my pacing was flawless, and I was absolutely flying through the terrain.


I hit the top of The Crack just after sunrise and at the 29km mark, I stopped for the first sock change. This was my first extreme hike with my Arma Socks (gear review to follow) and they were amazing! Foot care is arguably the most important part of long distance hiking.


At 12 hours in, I hit the exact halfway mark in distance and I was very proud of myself for staying on top of hydration, electrolytes, and food—areas I have been lazy with in the past, especially hydration. Although I had mapped out all my water filtering locations at lakes, I ended up filtering in the creeks right on the trail as the were running fast and this was more efficient.


Crossing paths with a few groups on the trail became pure fuel for my soul. Every time I shared that I was tackling the loop solo in a single push, their jaws dropped in amazement. Then their wave of encouragement surged me with even more energy.


By the time I reached the waterfalls just past H22, darkness had set in. It was just after 9pm - excellent time, feeling good, and ready for the night shift.


Part 3: Chronicles of a Long Night (Our La Cloche Silhouette Trail Review Continues)

Once the sun went down, navigation became the real battlefield. Because it was early spring, little to no trail maintenance had been done yet; markers were on fallen logs, downed trees blocked the path, and spring flooding covered everything. What was easy to spot in daylight completely blended into the forest at night.


At a creek just north of H20, I wandered around for close to an hour trying to find where to pick up the trail after crossing the creek. I eventually pulled out my map and compass, shot a bearing, discovering that the flooded marsh area was the trail, successfully finding the other side.


By 3am, right at the H19 cutoff, I lost the trail again. At this point, I was still physically strong, but mentally defeated by the constant route-finding delays. I opted to stop and crash in my emergency bivy until dawn. That’s when a tiny, ultra-persistent mouse tried to move in! I had to cinch the bivy tight around my head to play bouncer, just laughing at the sheer absurdity of the moment. At 5am, I headed out again, having only managed to cover the frustratingly short distance from H22 to H19 through the entire night.


Part 4: The Killarney Water Park (Raging Rivers & Washed-Away Bridges)

Daylight finally brought visibility, ending the endless search for trail markers, but my pace didn’t pick up much for two reasons. First, the break caused my once-warm muscles to totally seize up—I was walking like the Tin Man. Second, by mid-morning, the black flies became relentless, pushing me to near insanity. My excellent hydration, electrolyte, and food habits from the day before completely went out the window because I simply refused to stop moving for a single second to let the flies swarm. I just put my head down and pushed straight through.


On the final push into George Lake, there are a lot of water crossings. None of them proved to be simple as I had always experienced in the past while hiking in the summer and fall. I was happy that I managed to find the side trail to the Kirk Creek dam crossing, but the water was raging over the old dam and I could not cross. Having to take the 3km detour to circumvent it was mentally devastating this close to the end.


Then I got to the river crossing just south of The Pig’s Portage by The Pool. In the past, I had literally just jumped across it, but this spring it was raging. I tried tossing some logs across to walk on with no success, then took off my shoes and very carefully waded across. The water was super swift and the rocks were super slippery.


Lastly, at the Artist Creek, there is a very short but steep rock decline, a sharp incline up the other side, and the wooden bridge had been almost completely washed away. At this point, I actually yelled out a few choice words into the void and pulled out my phone to take a picture of this disaster, and realized both my watch and phone were dead. Truly finishing this trip solo, I was super glad I had a map and compass at this point. I very carefully crossed that pile of washed-away sticks and kissed the ground on the other side.


After navigating these creek and river crossings, I plodded along slowly, not wanting to eat or waste water and risk another filtering stop just to get savaged by black flies again. Although dehydrated and exhausted, the last stretch of the hike is fairly flat and thus enjoyable.


Part 5: Back at George Lake Campground (Heaven)

I arrived back at George Lake Campground roughly 32 hours after I started (the exact time unknown since both my watch and phone were dead). I ended up walking 87km rather than the expected 78km due to all the nighttime wandering and detours. After a well-deserved shower and some hot food, I was visited by one of the park wardens doing a wellness check. I had missed my pre-planned check-in window with a friend, and I was very thankful that he was checking in on me.


I was incredibly happy with how my body held up on this hike. An old knee injury and a current foot injury did not act up at all. My body structurally held up perfectly, proving that age 52 is just a number when you train hard and treat your body like an athletic machine. The only issue was some swelling in my feet (to be expected) and a face so swollen with black fly bites that my eyes were just slits. Thankfully, some antihistamines quickly knocked the swelling down.


Part 6: Resetting your Perspective

People often ask why I tackle these gruelling challenges, and I hope this La Cloche Silhouette Trail review shows why. Staring down a flooded trail or playing bouncer to a midnight mouse is hard to explain to someone who stays on the pavement. But to me, this is where life feels most vivid. Pushing your boundaries like this acts as the ultimate active meditation—everything else completely falls away. There are zero thoughts of daily stressors or work; your entire universe shrinks down to the next km and the next trail marker. Your brain simply doesn't have the bandwidth for anything else, and that mental clarity is pure freedom.


It also opens up a whole new level of gratitude. You don't truly realise how wonderful everyday creature comforts are until you completely step away from them. Coming out of the bush after 32 hours of non-stop effort, one of the single most rewarding feelings in the world isn't a massive trophy—it’s simply sitting in a camp chair. It instantly resets your happiness metre and leaves you deeply grateful for the simple things.


At the end of the day, plans change, tech dies, and rivers rise—but crossing that finish line proved exactly what my mind and body are capable of. I wouldn't trade the challenge for anything. Until the next hike, stay prepared, trust your experience, and embrace the challenge!


 
 
 
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