It should hardly have surprised us yesterday afternoon while walking through the ravine that so many others were out and about. If not on an early-afternoon summer day when the weather is absolutely perfect, then when? Perhaps our surprise was occasioned by coming across so many people that we had never before encountered. People for whom proximity to the forest is an incidental they do not normally give any thought to. But on such a day decide they would take an annual trek through the trails.

The normal camaraderie that exists between frequent trail walkers and these people is absent; they don't seem inclined to greet others other than a cool and detached perfunctory acknowledgement. In our particular case I can understand how annoying it must be to be accosted by two yapping little dogs before their human companions even come into sight. The quiet peacefulness of the surrounding woods is not enhanced by their behaviour; our little noisy poodles, I mean. Who appear to feel very custodial about the ravine, vetting everyone who passes through.

We did come across several people whom we've known for a while. One, an older, overweight but inordinately pleasant woman was seated uncharacteristically on one of the elderly and mouldering rustic benches that was installed at that juncture close to one of the ravine entries far from our own, many years ago. She was resting, she told us, because she suddenly felt unwell. This woman, with the use of a walking stick, usually bolts around the trails, not once but several times in succession. I'd be unwell feeling too. Some people who are older and obsessed about their growing propensity to being assailed with chronic illnesses brought on by age and lifelong lifestyle and heredity, feel compelled to push their physical limits rather than enjoy themselves while committing to outdoor recreational activity.

We spoke with her awhile on pleasant topics, mostly about how beautiful it was in the forest, how the colours intensified in various light conditions, and it seemed to us she had recovered and was ready to continue on, so we felt confident enough to leave her. Soon we came across another old acquaintance, barrelling down a hill we were mounting, and he threw back at us how strange it seemed to him that we were chatting between ourselves, my husband and I, while ascending the hill. He is a huge bear of a man, wearing a heart pacemaker, yet vigorous and several decades younger than we are. If we trekked through the woods at the speed he maintains we wouldn't be chatting either.

There was enough of wind penetrating the interior of the woods where the trails wind to keep mosquitoes and blackflies at bay, yesterday. And although the sky was clear and the sun full out, the temperature didn't rise as the forecast suggested it would, to 29-C degrees, making the walk extremely pleasant. Sometimes when you're suffused with the feeling of complacent satisfaction with the leisure to enjoy such outings, a nagging, faintly deep-seated thought intrudes of the wretched conditions under which so many people live elsewhere in the world.