Saint Jerome - Mont-Tremblant

This morning, I briefly consider refilling the hot tub. But considering the bright sunshine, I decide against it and opt for an early departure. I still have until eleven to vacate the accommodation, and I remember taking advantage of that in the USA. However, here I usually wake up early and get going earlier.

Shortly after departure, the madness begins. The colors and play of colors I see on this day are simply incredible. The one-hour drive to Mont-Tremblant National Park is a veritable parade. Despite the heavy traffic and the many places I drive through, the green-yellow-red phenomenon of Indian Summer can always be admired in the background. Sometimes I get annoyed that I can't stop. But I reassure myself that the colors in the national park are probably just as good.

One noticeable thing on the drive are the significantly large and modern car dealerships that seem to be doing business here. I must have spotted 15 of them. Mercedes Benz was among them. It's really amazing that they have so much business here. At many places, there are reminders that there is skiing in the winter. Just before entering the park, I take the first photos at Lac Superieur. Absolutely stunning.

At the ticket booth, I show the friendly lady my Discovery Pass for Canadian parks. A complete waste of money for me, as many of the parks I visited are not included. That's also the case here. I am informed that this is a Quebec park, not a Canadian park. And I always thought Quebec was in Canada. How silly of me. I didn't say anything. She was really friendly. And nine dollars is not the end of the world.

The park seems to be well-visited but not overcrowded. And it makes one happy. I spend the next four hours in a daze. One cannot take as many pictures as the number of impressions one gains here. There are a lot of Asian visitors here as well. They too are fascinated by the Indian Summer. I drive along Route 1 with numerous stops before turning onto Route 2. The road has turned into a gravel road, and as a result, I hardly encounter any cars.

I rely on my navigation system and keep driving, and the road keeps getting narrower. I start feeling a bit uncomfortable. I don't see any cars anymore, and none are coming towards me. My car is getting shaken up by the many potholes. A few times, I actually consider turning back. But somehow, this is an official route, and it will lead me out again.

After 30 endlessly long kilometers, the road finally widens. A campground indicates that civilization is returning. For the past 45 minutes, I haven't seen a single person or car. It's strange that this part is so rarely visited, even though it's just as fascinating as the rest. When the road turns back into asphalt, my heart rate also returns to normal, and I drive to my motel, which is actually only 45 minutes away from where I was yesterday. The big loop has cost a considerable amount of time, but it was worth it a thousand times over.

The motel turns out to be a truly stereotypical motel that couldn't be better imagined. Flabby sign, right on the busy highway, and in retro style. But impeccably clean. And an owner who once again speaks hardly any English. The funny thing is that she gives me a key and says something about the "table." I'm puzzled. Why do I need a key for the table? Until I eventually realize that she means I should leave the key on the table when checking out. We both burst out laughing. I'm slowly getting used to this French gibberish. But tomorrow, I'll be in Ontario. And they speak English there. I hope.