Montréal | Heart of Home

We've got home turf advantage.

FortNine is based in Montréal, so it was easy to put together the perfect motorcycle trip.

Chew on the world’s best bagels, avoid the tourists at Marie-Reine-du-Monde, dive off the secret cliff jumping spot and catch the best view of our city’s sunset!

The Route

Download GPS file - Montréal Motorcycle Trip

The Ride

Canada’s second-largest city has an even larger reputation. People call it the cultural capital of Canada and a party capital of the world. People call it the bastard love child of New York and Paris.

We call it home.

In tribute to our hometown, we’re making this episode special. Nothing here is new to us, so we won't bother with the typical discovery story. Instead we’re riding to places that we’ve visited a million times. And keep visiting. This is the local’s guide to motorcycling Montreal.

I start the day at 6am, angling my front tire towards Avenue St-Viateur. It’s a beautiful street but I’m riding it for another reason: Bagels. Founded by a Polish immigrant in 1957, St-Viateur Bagel is credited with pioneering the Montreal-style baked good. Of course this iconic spot is filled with tourists but even as a local, I can’t think of a better way to grab breakfast.

Slowing to the side of St-Viateur, the prickly air relaxes alongside my speedometer. I pull off my helmet and walk through the bakery’s 24-hour door. Steam billows past my face and into the morning chill – the sweet, smokey scent is both hypnotic and familiar. Montreal-style bagels are boiled in honey-water and baked in a wood fire, resulting in a unique flavour and dense texture. Any self-respecting local can immediately distinguish between Montreal and New-York varieties. We prefer the former.

After breakfast I saddle up and head to church. Maybe I want to see the architectural and historical wonder. Or maybe I need to repent of my four-bagel gluttony. Either way.

I do myself a favour and cruise past Basilique Notre-Dame. Montreal’s most famous church is certainly stunning, but it’s also a pain in the ass. I don’t want to spend my gas money on admission, nor do I want to waste my riding time in a traffic jam of tourists.

I pull up outside the equally-stunning and much-less-visited Marie-Reine-du-Monde instead. Wedging my motorcycle between two parked cars, I notice that the gap is as wide as my grin. There’s nothing better than parking a motorcycle in the city. Car drivers get to look all smug when they’re driving in the rain with five passengers in the back. But parking is our game.

Walking across the street and looking up at the renaissance architecture, I remember why it’s so familiar to me – multiply the size by three and you have a perfect replica of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.

Our cameraman runs ahead through the massive church doors – giddy at the prospect of sparkling décor and symmetrical collonades. Having visited Marie-Reine too many times to count, I put off entering the cathedral. Stretching out on the front lawn, I savour the rising sun as it seeps through my motorcycle jacket.

From this lazy vantage point, I see the stone façade of the church set against the glass skyscrapers of downtown. The view reminds me of stories from Montreal’s past. And present.

Remember that parking gap I wedged into? Well I’ve decided that it’s too good to give up. We’re heading to our next stop via a less-evolved vehicle: the bicycle.

Specifically, I’m taking a Bixi bike. Bixies are publically shared bicycles that can be picked up and deposited on nearly any street in Montreal. You’ll find Bixies in urban centres all around the world these days, but the company was founded and developed right here. Along with bagels and smoked meat, the Bixi might be Montreal’s best export.

Our best import, on the other hand, is the world. In 1967 we built Île Notre-Dame and much of Île Sainte-Hélène to host the world’s fair. Montréal's Expo 67 was the century’s greatest by many accounts, with sixty-two nations taking part.

Cycling through the old grounds, it’s easy to imagine the monorails and miniskirts that once crisscrossed this island. But what was once the centre of the world is now a humble park. The forests and ponds are occasionally dotted with faded, futuristic pavilions. These silenced buildings are strangely out of place – the remnants of some faraway future that, inexplicably, has already passed.

After retrieving my motorcycle we head towards The Main. Large cities don’t typically have a main street. But we do.

Riding boulevard Saint-Laurent is like riding a 3D timeline of Montréal. Starting in the old port, I cruise the cobblestone streets. Countless sailors and immigrants were received here, but got pushed further into the city over time. And it shows. I ride through Chinatown, Little Italy and Little Portugal. I ride through neighbourhoods of Arabs, Haitians, Greeks and Jews. All these cultures can be traced along Saint-Laurent. And all are sandwiched - on either side of this divisive road - by the city's two giants: English and French.

Riding Saint-Laurent feels like flowing inside Montréal's artery. Anything that enters into the lifeblood of this city goes through The Main first.

Of course it’s painfully slow-going between the traffic, pedestrians and stoplights. But that doesn’t matter, because my head is on a swivel. I see run-down factories and run-down factories turned into high-end apartments. I see world-renowned restaurants and holes in the wall. I see strip clubs neighbouring Catholic churches. St. Laurent is a living road and it doesn’t forget anything.

I soon hit Montreal’s notorious construction (the mafia handles most of the island’s road work, and they do a pretty rubbish job of it). In a moment of procrastination, I decide to pull over rather than wait it out.

My defeatism is fuelled by where I grind to a halt. I'm parked outside Station 16 - the perfect homage to Montréal's art scene! The Musée des beaux-arts and Musée d'art contemporain might be higher on a tourist brochure, but they’re near the bottom of our list. Montréal’s artistic personality is simply too exorbitant for major museums to handle.

Small-time art is bigger than big-time art in Montreal. Think about that. It’s true.

After a friendly tour from the gallery owner, there’s no more avoiding it. I must face the gauntlet of orange cones and stop-sign warriors. I make it through eventually (sigh) and hit Little Italy around lunchtime. You can guess what comes next.

Pizzeria Napoletana used to be a “locals know” kind of place. Especially when it was a gambling joint for Italian immigrants, which occasionally served Mama’s pizza on the side. But ever since John Catucci featured the pizzeria on Food Network’s You Gotta Eat Here! , it’s become an “everyone knows” kind of place.

Much like St-Viateur bagel, this is a tourist trap that locals can’t improve on.

I suit up reluctantly after lunch. The city air is sweltering now – hanging and baking between the buildings. Luckily I have an escape plan.

The Lachine Canal is a popular body of water in Montreal. It’s historic, tourist-friendly and total crap.

I ride towards the Soulanges Canal instead. It has all the history, bike paths and green space that Lachine has. However, this place attracts none of the crowds. Wooden locks rot before my eyes, stone archways crumble into turquoise waters. This isn’t some National Historic Site under glass. This forgotten place can be touched, felt and dived into.

On my final leap into the canal, I realize that I’m jumping into shadow. The sun is approaching the horizon and I have somewhere important to be when it disappears. Mother Nature’s countdown has begun.

I race back towards Montréal and reach Saint-Joseph’s Oratory as the sun is brimming over Laval. Of course the largest church in Canada is no secret, but locals know to come at sunset. Montreal’s last light catches Saint-Joseph’s massive northwestern façade, turning it yellow, amber, pink and red. Lying back across my pillion seat, I stare up at the ethereal spectacle.

I climb onto Saint-Joseph’s balcony and watch the day end over Montréal. This is my favourite view of our city. It’s not the famous panorama from Île Sainte-Hélène, nor the skyscraping vista from Mount Royal.

Instead I see the sweeping lines of HWY 40 and HWY 15. I see blue buses next to blue metro signs. I see countless brick quadruplexes, each with a long metal staircase to the top floor. This humble masterpiece is the local's view of Montréal.

Tips for Motorcycling Montréal

• Ride Pont de la Concorde. If you want a view of Montréal from the seat of your motorcycle, it doesn't get any better than this. As a bonus, this bridge will take you past the F1 track and Expo 67 grounds!

• Escape the island – Let me suggest Chemin Scotch and Chemin de la Rivière Rouge (near Harrington) for an awesome off-road ride. Take HWY 327 on the return trip for pristine pavement. If you need to cool off afterwards, continue to Soulanges Canal via the Oka-Hudson Ferry.

• Embrace a wacky schedule. Montréal is Canada’s unofficial seventh time zone. Dinner reservations are made for 9pm and the clubs start pumping sometime in the morning. St-Viateur produces fresh bagels at 3am and Friday rush hour starts at noon.

• Be careful on the cobblestones. Our friendly neighbourhood mafia handles road construction in the Old Port too, and they often leave tire-size gorges between each stone. Pay special attention in the spring, when all of Montréal’s roads look like Passchendaele.

• Cycle the F1 track. Motorsport fans will be pleased to know that cycling is permitted on Circuit Gilles Villeneuve. Pro tip: it is possible to get your knee down on a Bixi bike.

• Beware of bold drivers. Montréalers aren’t afraid to merge into microscopic gaps, run yellow-ish lights or move traffic jams along at 100 km/h. There's a method to the madness, but motorcyclists should be careful.

• Don’t turn right. For an unimaginable reason, Montréal has decided that turning right should be illegal. On a red light? No way. On a green arrow? Forget about it! Wait for a green circle or rightward signal to stay on the good side of the law.

• Come for a first Friday. Montréal’s legendary food trucks, which are hunted and chased all over the city, park at Olympic Stadium on the first Friday of summer months. It’s a world-class smorgasbord without any of the leg work. Expect something between a fine restaurant and a nightclub. The gastronomy is stunning, but the DJs blaring music and the bartender’s flowing taps are equally distracting.

• Phone a friend. I’d be happy to suggest some places and, if I’m available, I’ll ride with you! Hit me up in the comments below.