View from Mount Royal I

View from Mount Royal I, a photo by susanvg on Flickr.

I love to walk on Mont-Royal. Each section has different charms. No matter how often I go, I am drawn to the belvedere to see the view of the city and beyond. The air was clear and everything had a fresh-washed look.






An artificial pond, Beaver Lake, is another icon of the park. Last summer it was completely dug up. The water had become choked with weeds. We stopped to admire the newly created "lake". The pristine water sparkled in the sunlight. I think one of the things I love about the park is that there is something for everyone. We walked through the woods feeling as if we were in the country, while in the middle of our city. Other people enjoyed sitting in the sun on the hillside, picnicking at one of many available picnic tables. Children played on the park equipment. Walking you here many languages spoken as all take advantage of this Montreal treasure.

Near Beaver Lake

Near Beaver Lake, a photo by susanvg on Flickr.

With early sunset, the end of the day has turned into night. I went walking with a friend near Beaver Lake - an artificial pond on Mount Royal. This building serves as an equipment rental place, a cafeteria, a bistro, a warming up place on a cold winter day.

It sparkles at night. There is something special about walking at night. We could hear sounds - the ducks quacking, the swoosh of their wings as they took flight, but could only see shadows.

Our "mountain" offers something for everyone - even the solitude of an evening stroll.

Feb 11/10: Mont Royal

Feb 11/10: Mont Royal, originally uploaded by susanvg.

It was the golden hour, that point when the sun is near the horizon. I drove a bit to find a spot for my photo. I stopped at a Montreal landmark, parking near the chalet at Beaver Lake. Shadows were deep and the sun's setting rays shone on whatever they could reach. Beaver Lake is a man-made pond on the mountain. It is not deep and is now off limits in the winter. Just above the lake is a slope where people go toboganning. Now there are lanes carved out.

When I was a child it was a free-for-all. I first learned to ski on the "mountain". The local sports store gave lessons there in the evening. We climbed herringbone style up the hill and skied down. Those who were more adept took the rope tow that pulled you to the top. I remember one lesson, after my share of falling and hoisting myself up again I was finally skiing down the hill when I found myself knocked from behind by a wooden toboggan. I slid part way down the hill sitting on the curved front. Imagine my surprise when we reached the bottom and, once back on my feet, I saw the tobogganers were clowns. It was the start of a winter festival.

This beginning to my attempts at skiing was a clear indication of what was to come. I have crawled up a mountain when I couldn't get back on a T-bar, felt the excruciating pain of feet thawing after a morning on the local hill at our country place (no chalet to warm up in) and my last attempt at skiing was foiled by high winds. The chairlifts couldn't operate, though I seem to remember the hot chocolate was very tasty. Some forty years ago I abandonned downhill skiing and have stuck to winter sports where I did not have to rely on machinery or share a hill with people who valued speed.