By 7PM we were needing to get out of the house/room and Owen was adamant that we jog up Mount Royal. I reminded him that I was the guy who had asthma, allergies, bronchitis and a sinus infection just a few days before and was in NO condition to jog up anything. Owen suggested I follow along on my mountain bike and that he would, "jog at a grandma's pace."
I took some photos along the way. We live on Rue Hutchison in the McGill Ghetto which is sort of congested and piled with tall apartment buildings towards downtown, but as you move toward the mountain it starts looking quintessentially Montreal. They buildings there have the wrought iron stairs leading to the second floor where the North American French put the front door. It looks fantastic and just in case the place gets buried in a shit-ton of snow it could possibly even prove useful.
Biking is maybe as important to the Montrealer as drinking, speaking French, and dressing cool. They have bike lanes so you don't get ran over and they even have stoplights just for the bicyclists that illuminate little bike silhouettes to let you know whether to peddle or stand there and look cool...tres bien.
The sun was setting as we got to the top of the mountain and the vista out over the city is lovely. I think you can see all the way to Vermont.
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