Our ways
One last thing. Before we step into the new year and discover where it leads us.
I had the misfortune of getting walloped by a monster cold just a few days before Christmas. It was the sort of cold that leaves you hacking and clearing your throat for the first three hours of the morning, just so you can sound like Tom Waits after a long night of Canadian Classics and turpentine mixed with grain alcohol. But since my symptoms were entirely above the neck, I was able to regain some of my strength in time for a post-holiday jaunt up to Montreal with my family. And as we wandered around museums, glowing streets such as Rue St. Laurent, and the back passages of garlicky restaurants, I found myself craving the therapeutic benefits of a good hike.
At first glance, the meteorological conditions were not ideal for hiking—sheets of fog, bitter air, and a prevailing humidity that was bizarre for December in Quebec. The lack of snow and ice underscored the grayness of Montreal in winter. But as those of you who’ve been to Montreal will know, the St. Lawrence River-set city is a study in how to make the most of the coldest, darkest months. Restaurants, clubs, and shops stay open late enough to encourage nocturnal revelry. The reliable metro system makes it easy to get from your flat to any of these destinations. And even when there’s no snow, that doesn’t stop Montrealers (an exceedingly friendly crowd) from partaking in rituals like Igloofest—an outdoor electric music festival where people trade leather shorts and crop tops for wooly hats and parkas, to rage against the dying of the light.
In other words, I was in the perfect city for a late December urban hike. Between the encouragement of seeing Montrealers getting out, despite the dismal weather, and the possibilities of the cityscape itself, I was bound to find an interesting path of some kind. But I didn’t expect the roots of this pathway to be buried under Peel Street…