French Canada Road Trip: Day Five, Part One (Old City Montreal)

To brush up on Day Four, a whirlwind trip from Toronto to Ottawa and along the St. Lawrence to Montreal, click here.

My hostel was located in the middle of Old Montreal. The city of Montreal is actually an island, with Mount Royal's 500-foot peak serving as the centerpoint and namesake of the city. Montreal was established in the early 1600s, first in 1611 as a fur trading post, then officially as the French colony of Ville Marie in 1641.

Old Montreal, one of the oldest population centers in North America, is situated along the Saint Lawrence River, and about 4,000 people live in this quarter-mile stretch of cobblestone streets. In the morning, I began on the North end of the neighborhood, planning to criss-cross through the narrow streets as the morning went on.

One of my first sights was Marche Bonsecours, a shopping center across the street from the hostel. It was clear from that point (and from driving in the night before) that most of Montreal is perpetually under construction, more so than any city I'd visit on this trip.

From there, I headed up a couple of blocks to the Hotel de ville de Montreal, which now houses Montreal City Hall, and has historically been home to the mayor of the city. Across the street from this, Chateau Ramezay, an 18th-century home that's housed Canadian governors, the Continental Army, a University of Montreal building, and now is a museum.

You get a good sense of the cosmopolitan nature of Montreal as soon as you set foot on its sidewalks. The streets of Vieux-Montreal are lined with renowned restaurants, and at night you can peek into basement dining rooms and hear American music spilling out across the streets.

By law, the province of Quebec is bilingual; all official documents, court proceedings, and other government business are transcribed in both French and English. In the streets of Montreal, you hear French almost exclusively from passers-by, with the exception of the area around McGill, an English-speaking research University on the west end of the island.

My walk continued past Place Jacques Cartier, a normally-bustling square which features Nelson's Column as its centerpiece. With a quick glance, you might miss this monument's significance, and its innate controversy. The column, built in 1809 after the death of British Royal Navy officer Horatio Nelson, commemorates Britain's victory over France in the Battle of Trafalgar, in which Nelson lost his life.

Unsurprisingly, in a city that's 90% French-speaking, this statue did not and continues not to go over well, especially with Quebecois sovereignists, who plotted to blow up the statue shortly after it was built. In 1930, during a public inquiry, locals dedicated the square across the street to French naval officer Jean Vauquelin, and in 1997 an unsuccessful appeal was brought to move the statue to an English-speaking neighborhood.

Further south on Rue Notre-Dam sits the Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal. This massive Gothic church, constructed in 1853, takes up almost two blocks and demands to be seen. Thankfully, this is made easy by Place d'Armes, a largely-open square across the street with a statue of Paul de Chomedy de Maisonneuve, founder of Montreal in New France.

Notre-Dame's parish on the island of Montreal traces roots back to 1657, and more recently the church has been host to events such as Celine Dion's marriage to René Angélil (and his memorial service in January 2016), Justin Trudeau's eulogy to his father (and that funeral service in 2000), and Pope John Paul II's visit, raising the church to basilica status in 1982.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to tour the inside of the basilica, but it features a 7000-pipe organ dating back to 1891, and the stained glass windows rather unusually display scenes from Montreal's history. More on that fascinating organ though; most organs are rated by stops. These stops control individual ranks (vertical groups based on timbre and pitch) of pipes; the bigger the church, the more pipes, and the more stops. According to the Associated Pipe Organ Builders of America (yes, a real thing), the size of the pipe organ in a church should be determined by the number of congregants, and the size is determined by stops. 5-10 stops per 100 people is a good rule of thumb. The amount of stops in Notre-Dame's pipe organ? 88

To further put this into perspective, think of the maintenance involved. Pipe organs need to be tuned twice a year, generally with the change from warm to cold season and vice-versa. APOBA says the cost of tuning varies from $85 to $125 an hour. Now, take into consideration that it takes an hour to tune each stop.

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As I neared the edge of the Old City, I turned onto Rue Saint-Pierre. On this street, housed in a former fire station, the Montreal History Center set up a giant inflatable octopus, presumably for Halloween. Standing across the street is Maison de Mere d'Youville, a stacked stone 1693 building that housed the old General Hospital and Saint Marguerite d'Youville, who founded The Grey Nuns of Montreal.

Still walking along Rue Saint-Pierre, I headed towards the water. On the corner, a monument to John Young, who was responsible for enlarging and developing the port of Montreal in the late 19th century. It sits in front of the Allan Building, a structure which holds an interesting piece of historical significance.

The H & A Allen Company, a shipbuilding outfit founded in 1863, was headquartered here when one of its steamships, the Virginian, first sent its wire of having received the first distress signal from the Titanic. This Montreal office was where the crew of the Virginian asked for permission to alter their course and rescue survivors of the shipwreck.

While I was there, a group of protestors played metal and held signs in opposition of Trudeau. They effectively drew attention; it was about 9:30 in the morning and the music was blaring. I still heard it as I walked towards the port, where a massive orange ship was docked.

Across the water, I saw Habitat 67. This fascinating piece of Montreal architecture was designed as an experimental utopia to be displayed at the 1967 Expo. It's one of only two remaining structures from that Exposition, the other being the Biodome. At its core, Habitat 67 is a set of prefabricated concrete cubes set together in an organic fashion. The idea was to create a style of apartment living that defied the conventional high rise, instead creating individual spaces that were more like single-family homes, in that they had gardens and streets running throughout.

But the idealistic project soon ran into trouble. During construction, the budget ran out of control, leading the government to set rents artificially high for the building. Further, the concrete cubes needed frequent repair, and made the spaces more prone to mold. Now the building houses fully-renovated spaces and a strong sense of community, but its edgy ideals have fled even the man-made peninsula on which it was built.

Next, I head to the Montreal Botanical Garden. Find Part Two here.

Lane Motor Museum: A Sneak Peek at the Basement Collection

The 132,000 square-foot industrial building sits on the outskirts of Nashville. It began life in 1951, housing the Sunbeam Bread bakery, but when the bakery ceased operations in the 1980s, the building sat unused until 20 years later. 

The charming space, with its original maple floors, hand-laid brick, and some machinery still in place, was purchased in 2000 by Jeff Lane, a club racer and automotive collector who grew up in Michigan. 

Renovations soon began, and the basement of the building became a storage facility and workshop. Now it houses most of the collection, which rotates every couple of months. About 300 cars reside in the basement at a time; another 150 are on display upstairs.

Here are some photos of the rare and unusual cars that are living downstairs right now:

A Czech Tatra ambulance in the workshop. About 80% of the collection runs and drives, and Jeff says he tries to drive each car at least twice a year.

Parts are organized in shelves and bins surrounding the workshop. Some, like the Tatra emblem, are in poor shape, but incredibly hard to find.

A 1960 Saab 93, which began racing in the early 1960s, and was raced extensively from 1987 to 2001.

1938 Citroen Berline 11 Gazogene. This car was converted to run on coal during the German occupation of France in World War II. Range for this coal-powered car was only about 30 miles.

A mid-engined, rear wheel drive Alpine Renault GTA Turbo. This 1800 pound car was good for 200 horsepower and 140 miles per hour. It was also the first car launched by Alpine under Renault ownership, so the Alpine factory was completely overhauled to build these cars faster than Alpine alone could ever have managed to.

Another racing Saab on the left, the Saab Sonett. The "Sonett II" originally came to the US with a two-stroke engine, but it was woefully uncompetitive, and quickly replaced with a Ford V4 unit. Sonetts were designed and built as race cars, and competed well against Austin Healeys and Triumphs in SCCA events of the era.

Wartburg was one of two East German automotive manufacturers. This, the 311 five door Camping-Limosuine, used a frame and engine from DKW, probably a violation of intellectual property as Wartburg used BMW designs as their own until stopped by court order in 1952. This car, while stylish and well-appointed, was body-on-frame and used a two-stroke engine. In 1957, it was already badly outdated.

Staying in Germany, this is another DKW. This one, a DKW Universal van, has a quite modern layout, with trailing arm rear suspension and a front engine, front drive layout. However, the engine was only 700cc, and simply couldn't pull the weight when the van was loaded with cargo.

French Canada Trip Day Four: Toronto to Ottawa to Montreal

Tread back to Day Three of my Canadian journey here.

A foggy morning in downtown Toronto. I enjoy a fantastic breakfast of cinnamon oatmeal and a bacon and egg breakfast sandwich in the hotel restaurant. Then it's off to retrieve the Lexus from an underground parking deck, a feature that creates a nice little green space between the hotel and a row of town homes behind it.

A last glimpse at downtown Toronto. Tomorrow, I'll be in a city different in almost every way.

Most of the morning rush hour had burned off by the time I hit the highway, and soon I was back on the open plains of rural Ontario. My first destination for the day was Ottawa, Canada's provincial capital and home to a little over one million people.

Quickly, I hit a milestone. My odometer patiently flipped over from 229999 to 230000 miles. This, with more than half of the trip left to go. Still I was impressed with the old girl. I bought this car almost five years ago, already with 150000 miles and between three and four previous owners. By all counts it should have been in its golden years... years ago. But here it was, already in a foreign country, and inching ever closer to a province where nearly 95% of the people speak French.

The misty weather hung around throughout the morning, and I was glad I'd splurged on the $15 a piece wipers instead of my usual $7 ones. This didn't seem to dampen the beauty of this region's fall colors, which peak between mid-September and mid-October.

225 miles east of Toronto, I finally turned onto highway 416 north towards Ottawa. It's hard to imagine this nearly desolate highway leading to the capital city of Canada. Ottawa was declared capital of Canada in 1857 by Queen Victoria. This was long before the western provinces of British Columbia, Saskatchewan, and not to mention the Northern Territories were part of Canada. Thus Ottawa was chosen for it's location, nestled conveniently between Toronto and Montreal, the two biggest cities in Canada, and in the center of the Canadian territory.

It was also chosen because of distance from the United States border. Remember, this wasn't too long after the Louisiana Purchase, and California had only entered the Union 7 years earlier. So you can't fault Canadian officials for playing it safe.

Driving up highway 416 definitely played in isolationism's favor. In the 55 miles from the highway's origin near the St. Lawrence River to Ottawa, there are no incorporated towns, only the township of Kemptville, 35 miles from Ottawa and the rural community of Spencerville, which retains many structures that were built around its founding in the early 1800s.

A few miles outside of Ottawa, I left the main highway to take a scenic route, though I think the definition of scenic got stretched a bit. Really, it was a shortcut through the outer suburbs and into the city itself. Here I felt like a real outsider. In America, if you had a license plate from Arizona and were living in, say, Illinois or Tennessee, people would just assume you were in the military, or had recently moved, or maybe you were there for school. Here, a United States license plate basically meant one thing: tourist. And tourists venturing outside of the designated "tourist areas" were immediately suspect, or at least given a second look.

The two most common stateside plates I saw on this trip? New York and Vermont. The only other southern state plate I remember seeing was Alabama, in Toronto.

For a city of over 800,000, downtown Ottawa is incredibly compact. All of the main attractions here sit in the same three-block radius, starting from the riverside jogging and biking trail and extending southward on a grid.

The shining centerpiece of Ottawa is Parliament Hill, a collection of three buildings that still house day-to-day activities of Canadian government. In the center, the senate and house of commons (similar to our house of representatives), hold meetings in their respective chambers. Directly behind is the Library of Parliament, which houses some 600,000 items in its repository.

Flanking the center Parliament buildings are the East and West Blocks, which both contain offices of Canadian senators and ministers, along with meeting rooms and other administrative spaces.

All three of these Gothic Revival style buildings opened in 1866. The highly ornate style was chosen through a contest of sorts; many ideas were submitted to the department of public works, and eventually the decision was narrowed down to two styles: Gothic Revival and Neoclassical.

The United States Department of Agriculture building in Washington, D.C. is a shining example of Neoclassical architecture, the standard for most government buildings in the United States.

This represents an interesting decision point. The choice of which style to go with presented two polar opposites. Neoclassical: grand scale, simple shapes, and the liberal use of columns; Gothic Revival: Ornate, decorative shapes and patterns, and lancet windows. At the time, Neoclassical style was still seen as radical, where Gothic Revival, or Victorian style, was seen as more traditional and conservative.

While Gothic Revival style was chosen for government buildings in Canada, it still found its way to America via Christian institutions for higher learning. Both Sewanee University of the South (above) and Georgetown University began as private, Christian colleges, and both were built around the same time, in the late 19th century.

Now, also keep in mind that Canada was very much still a British colony at this time. Over in Britain, the reconstructed Palace of Westminster had nearly reached completion, and the answer was clear. The public works commissioners and Sir Edmund Walker Head, governor of what was then called British North America, chose the Gothic Revival style because it was thought to best represent parliamentary democracy.

Thus began the stark architectural contrast between Canada's capital city and ours, Washington, D.C.

It took me about two hours to walk around the buildings of Parliamentary Hill, down to the riverside trails overlooking Gatineau, Quebec, and back up to the canals of Ottawa.

By the time I'd finished walking around, it was late in the afternoon, and the sun was already starting to get low on the horizon. I grabbed my car from the parking deck and set off towards Montreal. I quickly got caught up in early rush hour, and after the frustration of trying to find a highway on ramp that wasn't closed for construction, I blasted on, unaware that I'd missed a crucial exit.

Soon, I realized my mistake when the road turned from a controlled-access interstate to a four lane highway with traffic lights. Instead of heading southwest, I'd continued straight and was now on the outskirts of the Capital Region. But a quick check of the map told me I'd face a minimal time delay if I stayed on this road, versus a giant one if I tried to go down to the highway I'd missed. And it was lucky I did miss that highway.

In the last hour of daylight, I was treated to the beautiful rural shoreside country of the Ottawa river valley.

Halfway between Ottawa and Montreal, I stopped in Hawkesbury and got my first taste of French Canada at a McDonalds. I listened to the chatter behind the counter, between the blonde high-school cashier and the half dozen cooks. It was the first time I'd heard everyone in an establishment speaking French, and it got me worried.

I can measure my French vocabulary on one hand, so it relieved me a bit to hear the person in front of me order in English. The population of Hawkesbury, once a booming saw mill town, is still about 70% bilingual, making it the third most bilingual city in Ontario. This was the first place I saw signs and primarily heard French being spoken.

The border crossing between Ontario and Quebec was undramatic, except for the fact that all road signs immediately switched to French-only, whereas in Ontario signs were in English and French. But we'll get into the separatist thing in the next post.

I arrived in Old City Montreal around 9:00P.M., and discovered the Lex had finally pooled enough oil in its plastic undercoating that it started dripping from the loose end at the back. I tried to put that anxiety into the back of my head, but I bedded down that night, worried. I've now got a profoundly leaky seal somewhere in a country whose native language I don't know. C'est la vie.

Head here to read about my first day in Montreal, starting in Old City.