stumbling round mount royal
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Today we did a fair bit of walking - more even than we wanted. So it goes when you climb unfamiliar hills.
Setting off from our hotel we eventually found a breakfast place that was open ("a louer" strikes again!) and then headed for a climb over Montreal's name sake - "Mount" Royal. The climb was a fairly easy one, with the north-eastern slope littered with hikeable trails. At the top we were rewarded with a great view of the northern end of the island city at a viewpoint along a busy road.
We'd had good luck with the tourist map we'd picked up along the way, and decided to follow the road around to two cemeteries that one of the guide books recommended for a pleasant walk. And that's how we wound up trekking through a wide graded-and-gravel road along a high ridge that had no view, no presence on our map, and seemingly no exit. All's usually well, but dragging a three year old along such a dusty unshaded trail when you've got nothing to promise him but more of the same isn't fun.
Eventually, our path/road made an abrupt turn on itself, and I made the decision to instead head down a crooked footpath in the direction that I hoped would take us to a meeting place of two roads (years of reading inadequate maps having paid off, it seems). Our plan at that point was simply to get off the hill.
When we emerged from our hot and thirsty trek, we found a very busy place with many people heading to various sights. It looked like everyone had emerged from a car or tour bus. And I suppose that's the key to the "park" on Mount Royal, you're really not expected to walk or hike it. The maps that are sporadically posted simply show the outline of what appears to be a park on the hill top, without any internal features other than a dot here or there for certain lookouts or the cross that stands above the downtown. Overall, an odd way to manage the city's big central park.
Following the advice of someone at a gift shop, we followed the herd to a lookout that affords a view of the downtown and the old city. It was worth the visit in of itself, but I couldn't imagine that more than 1/1000 visitors find it by following the unmapped maze of trails on the steep hill slope below.
From the gift shop (and sprawling parking lot) in the central of the park we'd spotted the dome of the Saint Joseph Oratory. It had already intrigued us with its unusual dome and gigantic size, so we decided to pick up the trail for the cemeteries and carry on. The two cemeteries were made for the city's protestant and catholic populations (by which I read, Anglophone and Francophone) and they make up a seamless whole that is in fact a very nice way of spending a summer afternoon. There's a gate at that admits passage between them way in depths of the two, at a site where soldiers are buried (in separate halves). Following the length of the Catholic south-western half, we were led very close to the Oratory.
We decided to a very late lunch before we tackled the thing, though, and happened upon a great little street that had a Haitian restaurant, another choice that looked good, and a bakery/bistro. we ate Haitian (for the second time on our visit) and Mari had the good idea of going back to the bistro after we'd been to the Oratory.
The Oratory itself was quite a sight. Built in a minimalist (even severe) style, it impresses mostly with its sheer size more than anything. There are dramatically lit statues inside, but very few carvings and certainly none of the embellishments that made the Notre Dame cathedral what it is. Happily, the Oratory has a high platform that looks out over the western and north-western portions of the city. In a single (long) walk we'd managed to take in views of much of the island.
Kenny woke from a nap as we left the Oratory, and delighted in the playing with a non-functioning pay-for telescope viewer and horsing around on the many stairs.
The bistro was good, though Kenny didn't like the addition of fruit to the inside of the chocolate croissant he'd wanted.
We took a bus back to the hotel rather than walk another step. When we emerged to go to a local Mexican restaurant recommended by one of the guide books, we got rained on yet again. And when we got to the address, there was just a (wet) hole in the ground. Laughing as we plodded to a Thai place that was at least open, I remarked to Mari that this was the second time in our experience that we'd headed for a Mexican restaurant only to find a construction site - the other was in Tokyo some five years ago. No restaurant goes out of business like a Mexican restaurant! (imploding sound)