A Silent 50 KM, Elora, 🇨🇦 - Tamara Blum

Tamara Blum is a highly social and talkative business owner, mother, and avid rambler from Toronto, Ontario, Canada. She's passionate about the Canadian outdoors and adores summertime adventures at her lake cottage with her family and friends. 

This past June of 2023, my husband and I ventured out on an adventure, unlike anything we had ever experienced. We signed up for a rustic weekend retreat with six strangers to hike approximately 50 KM along the Elora Cataract Trailway in Northwest Ontario, Canada. We would stay in the country, on a farm in a barn with no heat or running water. And all the hiking would be in complete silence.

I don't know what spurred me to do this, but one evening it popped up in my social media feed, and I instantly thought, I would like to try this! It really appealed to me. I run retreats as part of my business so I was curious about experiencing this one, and the silent part intrigued me.

I think the challenge of walking 50 KM on a weekend attracted me the most. Also, I love the outdoors, and staying on farmland in a barn seemed different and exciting. When I sent the link to my husband, he immediately replied back, "Let's go for it," so off we went.

We truly loved it. The 50 KM goal sounded daunting, and I wasn't sure how I would be with the silent part, but as it turns out, I managed both. I am not saying it was easy, but it was doable and beyond worthwhile. There wasn't a moment during the retreat where I thought to myself I can't complete this.

The silent part proved to be refreshing and valuable. I am normally a social and talkative person. In addition, my work requires a great deal of one-on-one talking and active listening. It was so great to not have to respond to anyone!

Even after hiking many kilometers, one of the most comforting aspects of the silence was the inability to comment or complain. This was golden for me. Given the opportunity, I would have commented or complained about something or said how this looked or what I thought of that. This was not an option, and I found this surprisingly refreshing.

As a 54-year-old woman, I take care of myself very well, ensuring I get enough sleep, exercise, and balance my work life and downtime. What I noticed on this retreat, with all the silence and the miles you had to cover, was that you couldn't really focus on your sore back or lack of sleep; you just had to do it. And you couldn't just wait until you felt like a hike.

The plan was to wake up, zip it, and go. It showed me that for all the comfort and care I give myself, I can also push through if I put my mind to it or if I really want to.

We arrived at the farm on Friday at 6 PM. It was a gorgeous spring evening, and I felt excitement in the air with all the lush farmland around us. Drew, our incredible host, and founder of S.O.S. Retreats Canada was exactly how I had pictured him.

We had spoken on the phone before the retreat. We had a pre-interview and check-in to see if this kind of retreat would be right for me, and we made a great connection during that call.

He was tall, strong, and wise, with a rugged look, a great smile, and a warm heart. He made it easy to feel welcome on his 100-acre farm. As the other retreat people rolled in, the ease continued. We all seemed remarkably comfortable with where we were and what we were about to do.

Drew had told us the weekend would be "camping-like" on the farm. We were shown the barn, an original, massive old beauty with high beams and light shining through the rough wood panels. On the floor, under individual large mats, were eight comfortable twin foam mattresses spread around the huge barn.

I found it a gorgeous, cozy home for the weekend. As I rolled out my sleeping bag, I felt like a kid arriving at summer camp. I was excited for what was to come, with a bit of nervousness brewing inside me.

The washroom was also camp-style, and we all had to share. It was very tastefully done and not an issue for me. It was a private, no-flush composting toilet that you had to put wood shavings in after each use. It was like an outhouse bathroom but in a rustic barn.

The washroom and this country camping style were the least of my worries, and I loved the surroundings. It was much appreciated and helped reinforce how little we actually need to be comfortable.

We gathered at 6:30 PM on the first day and had snacks and a toast to our upcoming adventure. Everyone was in good spirits, and the chatter was light and fun. It was nice to get to know one another before all the silence began.

Drew gave us a tour of the farm. It was so lush and green, with rolling hills as far as the eye could see. We were deep in farm country. There were farm animals too! We met two gorgeous black horses who let us feed them carrots and were wonderfully gentle towards us city peeps. There was the sweetest fluffy donkey named Grace, some miniature horses, and lots of chickens roaming.

Drew warned us that where there are chickens, there are roosters. So, they were our alarm clock for the weekend. There were lots of cock-a-doodle doos happening, and I loved it, and I am not a morning person! Each morning I would lie in my barn bed listening to the rooster crowing and watch the morning sun pouring through the barn walls.

We met at the campfire for one last intro and chatted before venturing out on the first hike of the weekend. The first leg was easy, approximately a 4km portion of the Elora Cataract Railway. We all stood there quiet and keen on the bridge at the head of the trail as Drew snapped a group picture just before we embarked on the first of many kilometers.

Drew encouraged us from the start of the retreat to go deep into this rare silence and really observe what comes up for us along the trail. He called it chasing your WHY'S. All of the hikes were in complete silence, and for the majority of it, you were alone on the trail as we were mostly staggered and walked at different paces.

The breakdown of the mileage on the hikes went something like this:

Friday evening, 4 km
Saturday morning 18k
Saturday afternoon 12k
Sunday morning, 11km
Sunday afternoon, 8km

Sometimes alone on the hikes, I could see the person far ahead of me on the trail, their hiking poles glinting in the sunlight, guiding my way. Other times I saw no one ahead or behind me. Just the long path in front of me that looked like it went on forever.

I remember thinking as I walked silently that weekend that I had absolutely no idea where in the woods I was, yet I knew where I was going, just straight ahead. This was the only direction I needed to go.

After our inaugural hike, we gathered around the most incredible campfire to get to know one another. Drew, a former talk show radio host, took a three-month vow of silence and hiked the Camino trail through France and Spain. He was a master at opening us up and asking questions.

Participation was optional, but every one of us shared why we were there and what we may be seeking or hoping to discover. There was great respect around that campfire, and I was amazed at how much we all listened to each other and supported our varying situations. 

Drew had encouraged us to bring a rock in our pocket or backpack, utilize it as a symbol of our burdens, and prepare to leave them behind Camino-style at the end of our three-day hike. He kept emphasizing for us to embrace the silence, to go within and get unstuck if needed.

His line over and over was to chase the whys and see what emerges in the silence.

My first sleep in the barn wasn't great. I was excited and wired and didn't fall asleep for hours. I began stressing about the next day and wondered if I could do this. Yikes, the anxiety came screaming out of nowhere for me, and I just wanted to sleep. Eventually, after many hours of tossing and turning, I finally fell asleep as everyone else slumbered around me.

Then the rooster sounded his alarm, and we were called to a group breakfast around the campfire. Simple, yummy, nourishing food and coffee and tea were had. We were all eager to eat and fuel up for the longest weekend hike.

Drew reminded us about the silence again and our vow to remain so, if possible, throughout the walks. He assured us that if we were quiet long enough, we would begin to hear things we needed to know.

Backpack and hiking poles in hand, coated in layers of bug repellent and sunscreen, we set off on our journey, and the silence began. We marched off together, down the path and slowly separated, finding our own pace.

It was four hours long, and I was alone on the trail. The first hour was like a warm-up, and it got me in the groove and, frankly, in a more confident place where I believed I could accomplish this.

Step by step, pole plant by pole plant, I went along the long open trail. It was wooded and green with lots of flora and fauna all around and very forgivingly flat. It was 25 degrees and a gorgeous sunny day.

The sun beat down strongly on the open stretches, and I was in full sweating mode, especially my face. I kept readjusting - hat on then off, sunglasses on then off, forget it too sweaty, water bottle in hand or in my pack, using my hiking poles or strapping them to my back.

I tried to remain comfortable as I walked, changing it up so I wouldn't wear myself out over the 18km. I became so grateful for the canopy of trees that would come up on the trail, shielding me from the sun and the occasional breeze that felt like heaven.

It took lots of encouraging talk and prayer in my head to make it to that 18k finish line. Sometimes I would even walk backward, trying to switch it up and change how my body was moving and to vary the view. Sometimes I was so deep in thought that I forgot where I was.

Other times I felt totally present in the beautiful surroundings and took it all in. At other times I was just so desperate to get there. The last 30 minutes felt the longest.

Hallelujah, I made it to the 18k all by myself! I was the final person to arrive under the covered pavilion for lunch. Everyone had their shoes off, tending to their tired feet and or blisters and applying bandages.

We were still silent, and Drew came around to check in on us. If we had a question, we could jot it down in our journals that we all had been given, or we could type an inquiry into his phone. We had to report on a scale of one to ten how we were doing.

I was approximately a seven, and no one was below a six. Of the eight of us, only one person decided not to continue. Drew took them back to the farm to relax, and they could pick up the trail the next day. It felt comforting to me that at any time, for any reason, you could opt-out. So far, I was eager to keep going.

Lunch was a fresh homemade wrap I didn't have time to eat. I decided I would rather pour cold water over my feet, use the restroom and change into new socks and shoes. I would eat as I walked this next silent leg of about 12 km. But I needed a cold drink. Drew had a cooler filled with water, juice, Gatorade, and pop, and since drinking only water on the trail, I knew I wanted something else. I grabbed an ice-cold Coke from the cooler. I cannot tell you how incredibly refreshing it was!

Off we were again on this last leg of the day. I munched on my wrap and headed out, this time with my husband. We had to remain silent, and again, it wasn't hard but obviously more challenging than when we were alone. I enjoyed being with someone else for a change, and it helped me pick up my pace a bit.

That afternoon we were treated to more trails with farm views and the most welcome sight, a beautiful lake. Just as I was deflating, seeing that lake really encouraged me. I could hear the sound of boats and the water lapping in the distance, and this familiar lake sound buoyed me.

With more spring in my step, we crossed a bridge. Several people were around, and we waved instead of saying hello and took in the happy faces and summer sounds without saying a word. I walked down to the shore of the lake and splashed some cool water on my face and hands for the most divine refresh.

We only had about a kilometer to go. We turned off the bridge into a bustling cottage town, my favorite. Drew had told us there would be a local bake shop and instructed us to go inside and order a butter tart in silence. The staff at the store knew to expect us. Trying to silently request a raisin butter tart amongst the six other flavors was comical. Still, soon enough, I had my golden homemade butter tart in hand.

We went to join the others at a picnic table by the lake to savor our well-earned treat. I cannot tell you how memorable and delicious that sweet tart was. Now that we could finally talk - stories of our hike, sites, and toils were eagerly shared.

On the truck ride back to the farm, we were all slightly giddy from the day's success. I knew that today's mileage would be the longest, and knowing I had done it, it was reaffirming for me. At the farm, Drew filled a massive farm bucket up on the grass with freezing cold water, and we soaked our swollen feet. It felt so good.

Since there was no indoor shower, you could cool off and have an outdoor shower with the hose. It felt great to freshen up and get into some comfy campfire clothes. We all sat on the grass and talked and talked about our day and what came up for us.

We stretched, sipped wine, ate snacks, and enjoyed great conversation. Now that we could speak, we began to share some intimate thoughts that had come up on the trail, which was incredibly soothing.

After lots of downtime, as the sun set, we were called to dinner around the campfire. Delicious BBQ Kabobs, salmon, veggies, and potato salad satisfied like no other meal. After our dinner, we sat by the fire, feeling grateful for our first day complete. The sun was setting to the west with an orangey glow, and a gorgeous full moon rose yellow and bright in the east. Could it get any better than this?

As we were all saying and thinking this, Drew and his wife called us over. They were walking towards us with a large basket in tow. I was thinking maybe there was some dessert in there. No dessert, but wow, inside that basket was the sweetest, most adorable six week old  puppies. Puppies, we cried! We went a little mushy with oohs and awws, and it felt so magical holding and petting these squeaking precious pups in the soft spring grass.

That night the campfire burned bright until midnight. Drew asked us thought-provoking questions that sparked conversation and laughter. I am still amazed at how much we all got along and connected. What are the chances that eight strangers would bond in this way? One by one, we sleepily left the fire and retired to the barn for a night of rest.

This time, having put what I thought was the hardest day behind me, along with all the physical exertion, I slept well. I will never forget lying there in my cozy barn bed, my husband and six new friends passed out around me, watching the full moon light up the big and little cracks all around the barn walls. I fell asleep feeling elated.

Sunday morning began the same, coffee, breakfast, and chats by the fire as we were about to start our last two legs of our hike. The first half of the day would be approximately 12 km on the trail. Drew reminded us again of the rock/burden we brought and carried in our pockets that we would release after our final hike and destination in a beautiful garden at a church. We all, in silence, were preparing to let something go.

I was alone again for the entire 12km. My pace was slower than the group, and I didn't mind falling back. I felt good, pacing myself and taking in the natural scenery. I felt accomplished and happy about what I had done so far. As content as I felt, I started noticing the burden Drew talked about, which was a pretty opal-like stone in my pocket. I wanted to release it at the end of this challenge.

I held on to people and relationships that were not good for me for a long time. I knew it was time to release that. I had seen some red flags along the way. Still, as a loyal person, I ignored the signs and persevered despite the imbalanced, nonreciprocal behavior towards me. I had been thinking about this for quite a while, but the opportunity that this retreat gifted to me helped me to realize that now was the time to release the burden of these unhealthy relationships.

About halfway into the 12 KM , the trail turned off into a portion along a busy road. With a trail this long, it is inevitable that you will pass through a stretch of roads and populated parts. This section was tough for me. It felt so long, and while I was still on the gravel trail, it was strange to see and hear cars going by. In addition, there was zero shade on this stretch. It was a real grind. I struggled without the usual beautiful scenery to appease me, and it began to feel like a chore.

After about 2 KM of this unrelenting stretch, I could see some light at the trail's end in the form of a beautiful conservation area. It had a lake on one side, and on the other was a massive dam high above the Grand River. The view was stunning, and the sound of the water hurling through that dam was so welcome and unexpected. I stopped and snapped many pictures on the towering bridge and took a selfie to document the beauty I witnessed alone.

Elated with the scenery, it took longer than I thought. Every minute you stop means longer on the trail and less of a break at our mid-way lunch spot. In retrospect, I likely wouldn't have paused so long as we still had much trail to cover within a certain amount of time. This was our last day, and getting to our summit, the garden, and releasing our rock/ burden was the pinnacle.

I was the final person to arrive at the break area. That last half hour again felt longer than the whole hike combined. My expectation of almost being there and not there yet distracted me way too much. Like the trail and so many things in life, it would have been better for me to just be in the moment instead of anticipating my arrival so much.

Once I arrived at lunch, everyone was geared down and spread out, chilling silently on the grass, having already eaten and tended to their tired feet. My fresh, hearty sandwich was waiting for me, and my glorious can of Coke!

I barely had time to change my socks and shoes and wolfed down the delicious sandwich. I felt a little rushed and would have loved more time to rest. As Drew said, it was a choice, slower on the trail or longer on the midway breaks. I couldn't have both.

The best part was that I couldn't complain about my choice. We were all still in silence, which helped me deal with it inwardly and not waste any energy talking about it.

Drew rounded us up for one last instruction regarding the final leg of our hike and, for the first time, provided us with a map. Despite being tired, I felt motivated to finish this last stretch. We were almost done, only eight more km to go, and that feeling of I am so close propelled me forward.

I was ready after pouring cold water over my feet and changing into a fresh pair of socks and shoes. My husband and I stayed together for this last leg and were the final ones to depart in silence.

This last bit proved incredibly challenging for me. Not so much physically as mentally. On a good day, I am not one to read a map. I do much better with verbal directions. The map stressed me out, as I couldn't decipher it. I felt so desperate. We were on this last leg, excited to reach the final destination, and completely lost.

Right there on a quaint street, with no direct path ahead, I caved, lost my cool, and, yes, broke my silence! After watching my husband attempt to silently ask for directions from an equally lost-looking bike rider while pointing at the map and making many hand gestures trying to remain silent, I moved far away from my husband and made an SOS call to Drew.

Drew was incredible; his deep calming voice was precisely what I needed. After my rant and plea, he immediately hung the phone up and texted me clear directions on where to go. I began to slowly follow along, praying we could find the way. By then, my husband seemed to figure it out, and we weaved hesitantly in the right direction.

As I looked at my phone texts later on, the amazing thing was that Drew had been following behind us, making sure we found our way without interfering. You see, the thing is, this last leg was meant to be hard on purpose. A bit of a test. To endure and persevere when so physically and mentally tired. To remain silent despite the stress and go inward.

Looking back, I should have trusted more in that moment. Like anything in life, I could have taken a deep breath, paused, and done what I needed to do to calmly get to where I needed to go. I have a strong faith that usually gets me through. Still, I lost my patience and confidence in that hectic moment, precisely when I should have trusted.

This was my why that Drew talked about so much over the weekend; the thing that can come up again and again for me. Letting fear take over in those overwhelming moments. 

Not a word was exchanged between myself and my husband through all the chaos. What a blessing, really! Instead of fighting back and forth about who knows where to go best, we couldn't talk and hurl useless information back and forth to each other. Again another great thing about the silence was revealing itself to me. I fell back into the silence, and we walked to our final destination.

We had now bypassed the quaint town, streets lined with lovely century homes, and had picked up the trail again. It truly calmed me. We continued on, step by step, back on the gravel of the path with the woods all around. We were so close we could taste it.

Once the trail ended, we were to meet in the center of town and remain silent as we all walked into an old quaint church surrounded by gardens and massive shady trees.

This was where we would have our last moments of silence and quiet meditation before letting go of our rock and burdens. I couldn't wait to throw that rock away. I was done with it now, having pondered it over 50 km on the hike in silence, and I was ready. It was no longer serving me.

I looked down at its pretty pearly self one last time and practically whipped it into the garden behind a large flowery bush. It felt so freeing. I didn't want to see it again or even see where it landed. It was gone, lost in the leaves, and I couldn't have felt more satisfaction.

One by one, the eight of us entered the church, had our last moments of silence, and discreetly released our rock. And now we could break our silence together. We gathered on the grass, under the shade of the tall trees, and shared stories about our trek. Turns out a few others had gotten lost and were struggling somewhat, but no one had broken their silence.

When I told them I had called Drew for help, they listened with compassion. We talked about the experience and our accomplishments, and it felt so rewarding. We were all exhausted and happy. It was a wonderful shared experience of satisfaction and gratefulness that we will never forget.

This random group of incredible people, this experience, the mental and physical push, whatever it was, left me on a high for quite some time. Many weeks later, I still savored it and remembered its quiet lessons. Trail magic happened with the eight of us and Drew. It was a personal experience for us, yet a deeply shared one.

Drew, our incredible leader, gathered our weary smiling selves up from the shady grass and marched us into town proudly, and he snapped our triumphant after picture. We had one final surprise ramble to the local pub, where he bought us all a cold celebratory drink. We toasted each other on a wonderful accomplishment.

Back at the farm, as we packed up our belongings and said our goodbyes, there were a lot of tight hugs and beautiful emotions expressed. As I write this, I can feel my heart and eyes fill up with these precious feelings. This rare group of strangers truly impacted each other. We promised to stay in touch, and so far, that has happened. Writing encouraging notes back and forth, reveling in what we did together, and even planning to reunite at some point.

That night once home, I climbed into an Epsom salt bath and sank into the warm water feeling my body and limbs completely release. I was amazed at where I went, what I had done, and the people I had met. I woke up the next day on a total high from the experience, even though my lower body was somewhat sore from all the mileage. And then the loveliest, most unexpected call came from Drew to check in and see how I was mentally and physically.

He did this follow-up call with each and one of us. I was thrilled to share with him many things that had come up for me on the trail. We discussed what I discovered and where I could go from here as I headed back into the real world and our hectic lives.

A few weeks post-retreat, I am amazed at how the effects of our silent weekend persist. On a long hike recently with my husband, I didn't want to talk as usual. I craved silence.

As we walked, I found the sound of my feet hitting the gravel, the birds singing, and all the nature sounds around me to be all I needed. No talking was required, and I felt very fulfilled in the silence. We both intuitively fell into a rhythm and strode forward briskly in a new, comforting silence like no other.

Tamara is a Certified Cleveland Clinic Weight Management Coach and owner of Summer Blume Weight Loss and Coaching & Blue House Retreats. You can reach her at tamarabc@rogers.com.