My friend John was treating me for a day trip to Mont Tremblant for my birthday.
Since the beginning of October marks the peak of Indian Summer in the Laurentians, we were not the only ones trying to park our car in the resort of Mont Tremblant. The resort itself was catering to the onslaught of visitors with its usual Disneyland-like slightly artificial grandeur and cuteness. We joined the throngs and rode the gondola up to the summit of Mont Tremblant itself, a mountains slightly scarred by ski slopes. At our destination we visited the mountain-top restaurant for a short pit stop. Hundreds of members of the Sneakers Brigade had beat us there, and were treating themselves to burgers, fries and bucket-sized sodas.
We had brought our own trail food, and left the greasy heaven to hit the trail.

Only minutes after entering the woods, we were met by tranquil, serene natural beauty. Clearly the Sneakers Brigade did not bother to walk more than a few meters along the trail. In fact, we should encounter only two fellow hikers during the rest of the day.
The colorful foliage was at its best, clearly we had hit the peak of the season. Both Indian Summer and mud season that is. We squelched along a trail that often resembled a river or swamp. After hopping from one dry spot to the next for some time, trying to avoid the mud, I slipped and landed in mud up to my ankles. Already soiled, I gave up on the hopping game and resolved to walk in the mud. John adopted this approach only after a slip gave his pants a generous mud treatment.

A sign by the trail warned us of black bears. John declared he was not afraid of bears, since he was with me. When I was unsure what to make of his 'compliment', he explained his plan. If a bear showed up, he would push me towards it, run, and observe the unique spectacle of a bear feasting on human flesh from a safe distance. If possible, he hoped to take newsworthy pictures. Luckily he did not get a chance to put this plan into action.

When we reached the valley, we picked out a trail that ran in parallel to a small but swift river, and would take us back to Mont Tremblant. The gurgling water accompanied us as we followed its course, often crossing miniature gorges and waterfalls on wooden bridges.

Back at the car we were faced with the fact that the hardest part of our journey was yet to come. We took the muddy boots of our weary feet, and got in line for the continuous traffic jam that linked Mont Tremblant with Montreal.