Tag Archives: Mount-Royal Park

The Future of Institutional Space in the Mountain Domain

Royal Victoria Hospital, Montreal - circa 1895
Royal Victoria Hospital, Montreal – circa 1895

An important public forum will take place at the Maison Smith up on Mount Royal Thursday night beginning at 18h00 and dealing with the future of the soon to be vacated hospitals within the ‘Mountain Domain’.

The forum will be presented by Les Amis de la Montagne and will feature three presentations, one on the mountain itself, another on the Plateau Mont Royal’s plan for the Hotel Dieu and another concerning McGill’s plans for the Royal Victoria Hospital. Presenters will include municipal councillor Alex Norris, McGill University external relations VP Olivier Marcil and Marie-Odile Trépanier, urbanism professor from the Université de Montréal.

I’ll write more on the specifics later, but for the time being it seems like the Royal Victoria Hospital will be annexed by McGill University.

Not the worst idea in the world. McGill apparently needs the space and annexing the Vic makes a lot of sense given that the university has grown up all around it, not to mention that the hospital is part of the McGill University Health Centre (MUHC).

In other words – this was expected.

The hospital was a gift from two prominent figures in our city’s history, the cousins Donald Smith and George Stephen (later the Lords Strathcona and Mount Stephen). They were the men principally responsible for the creation of the nation’s first transcontinental rail line, but it is the Royal Victoria which is arguably the greater legacy. For as central and important as rail has been in our city’s economic development, I don’t believe it equals the global significance of the medical innovations that have come from this institution, nor the building’s role as a local ‘lieux de mémoire’ for tens, if not hundreds of thousands of Montreal moms.

Though the deed to the land initially stated the land be used in perpetuity in the service of the public as a medical institution, the remaining heirs have relinquished this requirement. Instead, they have simply requested that the soon-to-be former hospital be used to serve the public interest.

Enter McGill University. If the choice is between handing these buildings over to the university or developing the land into luxury condominiums I’d be the first to rig up and hoist the Martlet flag from the turrets of this masterpiece of late-Victorian Scottish Baronial institutional architecture.

That said, I’m concerned McGill will use this space for dormitories and not classrooms.

I’m also concerned the new MUHC Glen Yards campus will not be able to fully replace all the hospital beds it currently operates. The MUHC has acknowledged the new superhospital will indeed provide fewer beds than currently available in the extant hospital system.

So, with this in mind, is it really wise to eliminate all hospital operations from the Vic?

Is it not possible to keep at least one pavilion open for public medical purposes while handing over the rest to the university?

The hospital has a particularly strong link with the women of our city, principally owing to the strength of their maternity ward. Why not keep the main pavilion operating as a maternity and women’s hospital? It’ll ensure more beds are available and permit at least part of the building to retain its original function.

As to the Hotel Dieu, I’ve heard murmurings that at least one proposal would seek to have the rather expansive facility converted for the purposes of becoming an old age home.

This isn’t an altogether bad idea either given our aging population and the shrinking retirement assets of the working and middle classes. Private elder care is outrageously expensive and public facilities leave a lot to be desired as is, so converting a hospital into a massive retirement home seems opportune. It’ll certainly cost less than building a new structure and you can make the argument that, as far as institutional buildings are concerned, it’s well suited and well situated for the purpose.

But what of the old Shriner’s hospital, or the Montreal General? What of Hopital Notre Dame facing Parc Lafontaine, or the Thoracic Institute, or the Children’s?

Not all of these facilities are strictly speaking within the ‘Mountain Domain’, but they do represent the entirety of institutional space that will become available for repurposing over the next few years.

Which is why limiting the public conversation to those hospitals closest to Mount Royal Park seems illogical. All these spaces need to be considered in terms of the broad demands for public institutional space in our city.

We need more space to teach and to heal. We could use a lot more space to create and to exhibit our creations. We badly need space for the elderly, but not nearly as bad as we do for the homeless.

In any event, if we had a municipal institutional space oversight and coordinating committee I think our city would be able to strategize more effectively, respond more appropriately to public demand and ensure these prized properties serve the public interest to the best of their abilities.

Unfortunately, such is not currently the case.

The Mordecai Richler Monument to Municipal Illogic

Mordecai Richler 'Pavilion' in Fletcher's Field, Parc Mont-Royal - credit to the National Post
Mordecai Richler ‘Pavilion’ in Fletcher’s Field, Parc Mont-Royal – credit to the National Post

Hat’s off to Bill Brownstein over at the Gazette for shedding some light on the unnecessary civic embarrassment and ode to illogical urban planning that is the saga of the Mordecai Richler Pavilion.

You likely know the ‘pavilion’ as the dilapidated gazebo in Mount Royal Park, pictured above.

How this particular gazebo came to be known as the Mordecai Richler Pavilion is generally presumed to be as a consequence of Richler’s harsh and globally prominent criticism of the Quebec sovereignty movement. Allow me to explain.

It really is a completely random recognition. To my knowledge the gazebo doesn’t feature prominently in his writing, he wasn’t known to frequent it and while it’s a safe bet to assume he likely had once been there and was familiar with the structure, it’s far from being emblematic of the neighbourhood further east he actually grew up in. If anything the gazebo was more a part of the ‘city on the hill’ than of the city below it, and some of Richler’s characters are quite critical of the old money, elitist society Mount Royal Park was largely designed to serve. In sum, naming this particular gazebo after Richler doesn’t make much sense at all.

Naming one of the several small side streets (Groll, Bagg, St-Cuthbert, Clermont, Roy Ouest etc.) that intersect St-Urbain makes far more sense to me, and indeed, this was the first idea, initially championed by Snowdon city councillor Marvin Rotrand several years ago.

In my opinion, naming a street after Richler in an area of town he grew up in is an appropriate way by which to recognize him. That said, at the time this was proposed Rotrand alleges he encountered opposition from the Plateau Mont Royal borough administration. Either they were concerned about potential backlash from hardcore separatists who live in the Plateau or otherwise were themselves of the mind Richler was merely a Quebec-basher who didn’t deserve any recognition at all. There were negotiations – perhaps a pocket park or playground, or more appropriately the Mile End Library – but ultimately nothing came of it. Richler died in 2001.

And so, perhaps the single most influential author this city has ever produced went publicly unacknowledged until about 2012, when Rotrand succeeded in convincing disgraced former mayor Gerald Tremblay to name something – anything – within the mountain domain after Richler. The mayor was in charge of the mountain (perhaps he still is), and the Plateau Mont Royal borough is not. Simple as that. The gazebo must have been chosen because it wasn’t already named and turning it into the ‘Mordecai Richler Pavilion’ would justify the cost of renovating the gazebo.

Great. It may have nothing to do with the man it’s named after, but hey, it will result in a better looking Mount Royal Park, so what’s not to like? Maybe it’ll become something meaningful to Montrealers, a preferred spot to sit and read.

And best of all, because it’s a renovation job it won’t cost as much as building something completely new and further steers clear of the oddly controversial proposal to rename a street, park or library after Richler.

And by the way – on the issue of illogical naming and recognition practices vis-a-vis our public spaces, consider that there is a playground off Clark south of Pine (i.e in the general vicinity of where Richler grew up) that’s actually called Parc University Settlement.

We can’t name this place after Mordecai Richler?

Our city will recognize a university settlement but not one of it’s most accomplished public intellectuals?

In any event, back to the pavilion.

The resolution was passed in 2011 and the gazebo, already in poor shape, was officially named after Richler. Then nothing happened for two years and here we are.

This is the newspeak offered by the city regarding the future of the pavilion:

“The Mordecai Richler Pavilion is an important element of Montreal architecture, one that is part of an area of outstanding heritage value. The administration strives to honour Montrealers who contributed to the vitality of the city.”

I’m not so sure about that first part. It’s an old gazebo that’s managed to survive a lot longer than anyone anticipated but this doesn’t necessarily mean it has any particular architectural value. If I recall correctly, I believe I read once there’s a connection between the gazebo and the nearby Quartier Général of the Montreal fire service. From what I’ve read the gazebo used to be used by brass bands, military and marching bands, back when this was considered genteel summertime entertainment. It’s a far cry from the EDM mini rave that now takes place around the gazebo (though not in it, because it no longer has a floor).

In essence, the gazebo is fundamentally worthless unless the city names it after Richler and spends some money making it into something more substantial than what it currently is. It’s only after the transformation that it will have any tangible cultural or heritage value.

And now… the cost.

Brownstein writes that, so far, fifty-seven thousand dollars (and change) has been spent on an architectural study of the site and a proposal for the new pavilion.

The city has a planning department, so I’m not altogether sure why we need to spend additional money subcontracting architects. What is Beaupré Michaud telling the city it’s own employees can not? What additional information are they bringing to the table with their analysis of the site?

It’s a gazebo.

The city has authorized a budget of 250 thousand dollars for the renovation project which is due to start some time this summer and will be completed by the end of the fall. The question is just what exactly we’re getting for a quarter of a million dollars, over 300 thousand dollars including the architectural study, and what purpose the gazebo will serve.

I’d like to hope for that amount of money we’ll get a lot more than just a renovated gazebo. You’d think the project will include a variety of extras – a drinking fountain, lighting, furniture, garbage and recycling bins, a large square in front of the ‘pavilion’ featuring a statue of Richler and some kind of inscription (in English, quel horreur!) carved into locally-quarried granite, not to mention a proper pathway with its own lighting and a hell of a lot of shrubbery. Oh, and maybe one of those mini libraries featuring beat up Richler paperbacks.

And while I’d love to see such a project realized, it begs the question. Is this really the best use of public funds given our city’s current economic situation?

Renaming a street, library or park doesn’t cost $300K or even $60K and it’s a more appropriate way to recognize the deceased author than randomly attributing dilapidated and antiquated park furniture after him.

And if the city were to go that route instead renovating the gazebo becomes a simpler affair as well. Because it’s disassociated from Richler, it’s suddenly not so significant and doesn’t need to become a pavilion. It can be given a ‘bare bones’ rehabilitation at a fraction of the current proposed budget.

But there’s little hope of all that. The city has made up its mind to create a new public space and has authorized quite a sum to pay for it. All the taxpayers can do now is ask, politely, to see the plans they’ve come up with.

Recycling Institutional Space in the Mountain Domain

royal_victoria_hospital_winter_-e1357268720318
This scene is quite literally the stuff my somewhat Kafkan dreams are made of

Lots of talk recently on the future of the Royal Victoria Hospital and Hotel-Dieu given that both facilities are supposed to shut down once the super-hospitals come on line, and the extremely valuable institutional space may become locations for new development.

Considering that the ‘English’ super-hospital is already expected to be too small to fully replace all the hospitals it was intended to, I can imagine there’s still going to be need for the space, really regardless of the shape it’s in. If you’ve been by either of these hospitals lately, you know they would require extensive renovations in order to continue being useful. Whatever happens, there’s likely going to be a bit of a gestation period as the sites are re-purposed, so nothing’s going to happen immediately.

Of course, we can’t afford to let it sit and rot either – we’ve got a bad record when it comes to demolition via neglect in this city.

And as if that wasn’t complicating matters enough, there’s the added issue that the Vic isn’t supposed to be used for any other purpose than to heal or teach, (ideally both) and McGill doesn’t seem interested in converting the hospital for teaching purposes, or making any use of it whatsoever, despite being thoroughly integrated into the site. Elspeth Angus, a descendent of Lord Mount Stephen (who bequeathed the land for the purposes of a hospital) wants the spirit of the gift to be honoured and as such wants the area to maintain its institutional orientation.

And of course, it’s not just these hospitals – other facilities will soon be vacated and happen to find themselves relatively close by. The Shriner’s is moving to the Glen Yards site, while the Chest Hospital will leave it’s St-Urbain street location and the Children’s will depart from Cabot Square to join it. Institutional space frequented by Montreal’s Anglophone community have been consolidated in the West End even though this isn’t particularly convenient to Montreal’s Anglophone community (which is increasingly young, bilingual and living further East than ever before – another example of why the superhospital is an antiquated notion to begin with, but I digress). But a bigger problem, Montreal – in general – is lacking in institutional space.

As institutional space of this variety has been immensely beneficial in preserving the natural splendour of the Mountain Domain, and can continue to exist as such should we choose to recycle it, we must endeavour to use this space proactively.

Ergo, no condo.

What I feel is crucial here is the maintenance of institutional stimulus in this sector, and not simply cast this space off to the crap-shoot of free-market real-estate development. All of these sites could easily support diverse urban living experiments, but the loss of available institutional space would be insupportable for a city already lacking it. Future institutional space requirements will be constrained by the need to expropriate expensive urban real-estate. Furthermore, institutional space is already well-positioned in our city to act as a preservation instrument – there’s a reason so much institutional space was gathered about around the bottom of the mountain, it helps preserve the green aesthetic of the city, pulling civic infrastructure together into a broad realm. The mountain park is free and grand – we want our citizens to continue interacting with these spaces so positively impacted by the urban environment.

Let’s not lose sight of our past accomplishments.

A few thoughts on what we can do with these five hospitals:

1. Turn the Vic into a Maternity/Women’s Hospital; demolish anything not worth preserving, insert parkland.

2. Convert the Thoracic Institute into a homeless-shelter with a focus on rehabilitation; if I’m not mistaken there’s a detox hospital located just a smidge further down St-Urbain.

3. Redevelop the Children’s into two new facilities. Part educational, part healthcare. Close Tupper Street, extend Cabot Square to reach the Children’s, build a new front door.

4. Hand the Shriner’s Hospital over to Batshaw – they do good work and need good space, but NIMBY types out in the West Island don’t want them around anymore.

5. Like with the Vic, remove the architecturally insignificant buildings and excess parking lots at the Hotel-Dieu site, expand their beautiful and famous gardens, and recycle the hospital into a massive public assisted-living residence for seniors.

The Why:

1. The Vic was built into what we would now call the Mountain Domain largely because proximity to nature was considered immensely beneficial in the recovery process, something I don’t think is too far off the mark in all sincerity. The Vic is also very well respected as a maternity hospital and has developed particularly strong bonds with Montréal’s urban middle-class community as the choice location to have your child.

But the Vic is also an immense and vastly complicated rabbit’s warren of buildings and tunnels, only about half of which are architecturally significant and prominently located. It’s old and is in need of repairs, maintaining it as a fully functioning hospital is likely an overly expensive proposition the provincial health authorities would be disinclined to pursue, especially if they felt they could possibly profit from a real-estate deal.

So cut back – there’s no reason to keep half the space at the site, many of the newer (yet architecturally unappealing and unimportant) buildings could be removed, the space returned to a natural state, extending the reach of the park further south, interacting with the city. Renovate the buildings we want to keep, and turn the facility into a specialized maternity and women’s health hospital, a serene sanctuary atop the mountain, really one of the safest places you could possibly be in the city core.

Oh, and we should get around to opening up the immense tunnel system under the Vic to the public. Make it a tourist attraction, I say. Charge people ten bucks a head to walk around in the steamy underbelly of the city – a modern catacomb.

chest-bldg

2. We have a homeless problem and we need a more comprehensive, effective, solution. As health budgets are cut and persistant unemployment and underemployment keep the working classes locked in a state of near poverty, even our otherwise robust social safety net quickly loses most of its ability. If you’ve walked our city’s streets over the past few years you’ve doubtless noticed there are simply many more poor, homeless and often psychologically impaired individuals in our public spaces.

If we want to change things we’re going to have to develop our own solution – how can we expect governments that favour austerity to preserve their material wealth to help us help those who cannot help themselves? It runs counter-intuitive to the poorly-understood ramblings of Ayn Rand that make up nearly the entirety of contemporary conservative political discourse.

And the PQ, of course, is far more concerned with running PR damage control after the world caught wind of the idiotic and punitive language legislation currently being discussed by an apparently serious independence movement.

All of these plans necessarily require that a future city administration take a leading role in managing these projects, but it’s my hope that our next administration has the common good at the forefront of their minds, and acts accordingly. Creating a facility designed to get the homeless off the streets and back into functioning society should be a top priority, because homelessness is a surprisingly massive strain on our social safety net resources. Not addressing it simply makes it worth, and devalues what our tax dollars are spent on.

A facility like the Chest Hospital is ideal for a homeless shelter because it’s within close proximity of the city core, but wouldn’t have an overly negative impact on local land value – the area is principally student housing as is – but also has a degree of seclusion I believe might facilitate rehabilitation efforts. Even if it was just a 24hr soup kitchen/multi-floor shelter it would still be better than what we currently have, which is to say far too little.

montreal_children_hospital

3. Both Dawson College and Concordia University need new institutional space within proximity of their main campuses, and we’d be wise to retain an additional emergency room in the urban core. The Children’s hospital location is large enough to accomodate a new college pavilion as well as an emergency room/ 24hr clinic. It seems as though every year there are periods in which the ERs are ridiculously over capacity, so why not have one you use specifically on those occasions? The eastern portion of the Children’s is sufficiently large enough it could easily accommodate a spare ER/ round-the-clock city clinic, something else we’re lacking. I can imagine the remaining potion could easily be transformed into classroom space for Dawson, Concordia or any other post-secondary institution short on space.

As an aside, the bit about removing Tupper Street and extending Cabot Square so as to unite a larger block with the eventually converted hospital is as much motivated by my desire to see more students than homeless in Cabot Square as is our need for more green space in general. Why not make a park a touch larger if all that stands in the way is a seldom used side street?

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4. Last I heard Batshaw’s plans for expansion in the West Island is facing stiff opposition from the local ‘concerned citizens brigade’, though their general habit of dancing around the issue makes it very difficult to ascertain precisely what problems they’re anticipating. I’m assuming they think troubled teens getting supervised rehabilitative support is going to devalue adjoining property, or perhaps introduce an unwanted criminal element to their suburban utopia, but let’s face it – I think most people just don’t want to be reminded of the various social ills that exist in any society.

I think we can expect this trend to continue. Suburban land is the least developed, and as a city grows so to does its requirement for a wide variety of things suburbanites desperately need but don’t want to live next to. The inexcusable opposition to Batshaw’s expansion is, though morally wrong, shrill enough to occasionally get its way.

The Shriner’s Hospital location on Cedar solves this problem, somewhat, in that there’s not much else that can be done with the building and it’s surrounded on three side by forest. Cedar is sparsely populated on that stretch, and but a stone’s throw from the General Hospital. It’s conversion into a halfway house and rehabilitative centre for troubled and at-risk youth seems logical enough given the proximity to other Batshaw facilities further south off Atwater and could, much like Hotel-Dieu or the Vic, make excellent use of the rehabilitative qualities of a tranquil and bucolic surrounding.

Hotel-Dieu_Montreal_1865
Hotel-Dieu in a simpler time… a time of steamships, Kaisers, widespread apocalyptic Marian Visions, and a curious new brain tonic called Coca Cola…

5. Finally, the building I fear is most likely to be converted into a sprawling and hopeless mess of condominiums, the Hotel-Dieu, a historic and culturally significant public space at the foot of the Mountain, perhaps the most easterly extent of the domain. The Hotel-Dieu is more than just an ancient hospital as the religious order that ran it also kept its residence there, and have over the years developed expansive grounds and apparently magnificent (though seldom seen) gardens inside its massive walls. The Hotel-Dieu will soon move on down and merge with the new CHUM/St. Luc super-duper-hospital, leaving many to wonder what comes next. Unlike the Vic, there doesn’t seem to be the same community and institutional convergence to possibly find a new role for it (though that said, I’d be delighted to find out I’m wrong on this one).

I’d argue in favour of converting this space into a massive public seniors’ assisted living complex.

Let’s face it – our future is going to be filled with lots of old people, and the public will require an elevated state of publicly-funded elder care, as our current system is inadequate. The Hotel-Dieu’s grounds are expansive and the buildings large enough to accomodate a significant number of people, even if we were to tear down what wasn’t worth preserving and deemed excess. The grounds offer an urban sanctuary for the residents and use in this respect would guarantee the manicured parkland is used appropriately and not paved over. Large parking lots on the St-Urbain side could be repurposed, and the influx of people may help clean up that stretch of the street. It would certainly stimulate the development of new services to cater to the geriatric mass.

Not to mention, just down the road at La Cité is a comparatively large shopping mall they can walk around in. They’ll have great fun.

That’s all for now, let me know what you think.

Oh – last point because it still, unfortunately, needs to be said. Though most of these facilities are used principally by the local Anglophone community, they are in fact open to all and serve all. Any future developments of these sites should follow in that tradition. It is the hallmark of our cultural identity, we may as well link it, conceptually, with the identity and heritage of the space we occupy.

Perspective on the City { No.7 }

Rachel Street, from Mount Royal looking East - work of the author, Spring 2010

Last Spring I discovered this fantastic trail along the edge of the mountain, overlooking the vast expanse of thick mixed forest behind the Cartier Memorial. I found it after forcing myself to climb the steep rocky incline leading up the side, under the Eastern Lookout. From it’s shape, I thought it may have been carved out by one of the early-thaw streams that pour down the rock-face, but as I pulled myself up by means of exposed roots, I realized it was more likely to be the remains of a small landslide. The pile of boulders and freshly churned earth at the bottom should have been indication enough. The climb up was more challenging than I had anticipated, but upon catching my breath and turning around, I was delighted to see the Plateau and the East End stretching out to the horizon, the flames of the oil refineries and the orange floodlights of the port outlining the river. There are several small, informal trails which run between the Cross and the Eastern Lookout, with several small clearings along the very edge of the mountain, each affording spectacular views of the city below. What’s perhaps best of all, is the relative silence. Here, there is no noise pollution, as all I could hear was the delightful symphony of forest life. The view provided a fascinating juxtaposition; despite being acutely aware of my relative isolation and bucolic surroundings, the city – teaming with life and vibrancy – was never out of sight.

A timely reminder of what Summer is like…

The Eastern Core - work of the author, Summer 2008

Every morning while waiting for the train I try to zen-out while remembering just how unbelievably hot last summer was. Indeed, each year I feel as though Montréalers undergo a fantastic process wherein we collectively experience each season to its fullest. Sometimes I wonder how people can complain about the heat here. I try to get up the Mountain as often as possible to enjoy the seasons in their natural state. In the early Spring, the dampness of the wood sends chills down your spine, while the mist and fog typical of that time of the year hovers gently over the forest floor as moonlight and floodlights cast eerie beams through the forest. In the Summer, it provides a cool refuge from the piercing sun. At night walking along the Olmsted Trail in the middle of January, you hear the soft crunch of the snow underfoot while dormant oak and maple branches knock together above, thuds and clunks composing a hollow rhythm. And during an Indian Summer, the explosion of colour and that last blast of heat stimulate the senses, inviting dreamers to imbibe in sweet dreams.

The idea to protect our mountain as a kind of eco-historical time-capsule has allowed generations of Montr̩alers to experience the local natural environment as it was when Montr̩al was first settled. The fact that you can walk into Mount-Royal Park and quickly find yourself alone, with nothing to hear but the sound of rustling leaves and chirping birds, bathed in sunlight Рit invites you to contemplation. What a gift to give to the residents of the city!

This here is the view of the Eastern-core of the city, taken from the Kondiaronk Belvedere atop Mount-Royal. This spot was so-named to honour the Huron Chief who led 1300 delegates from 39 sovereign nations to Montréal to participate in a massive peace conference. I like how the belvedere is open to all people, all the time, and is without a doubt the most spectacular view of the city and region. From this vantage point all citizens can appreciate the grandeur that springs forth around them. All citizens can stand here and feel triumphant. And thus, the Belvedere is the piece-de-resistance in this ecological time-capsule, as here each citizen can see the landscape Cartier saw back in 1535.

If you approach the Belvedere from the West, that is, if you were coming from Lac-des-Castors, you will see the skyscrapers in the downtown, though they will appear to be much closer than they really are. It’s a bizarre optical illusion. The Mountain offers its citizens many gifts, but must be protected.

What were they thinking? {No.1}

Site of a former tram-tunnel, now open-air, on the Camillien Houde Parkway

(Part of an unfortunately on-going series)

The Camillien Houde Parkway has got to be one of the stupidest ideas ever conceived of in the history of Montréal, which is unfortunate given that its a beautiful and exciting parkway. Make no mistake – I love this street, I especially love all the great memories I’ve attached to it, such as taking it to go visit my newborn brother when I was three. Unfortunately, it came at too-high a cost, and any individual in this city who is concerned about the future of our most iconic landmark should see the Camillien Houde Parkway as public enemy number 1.

Here’s why:

a) It’s named after former Mayor Camillien Houde, well-remembered for his charisma, anti-conscription related internment during WW2, the Kondiaronk Belvedere and the many Vespasiennes (adoringly called Camilliennes for decades) he had constructed as make-work projects during the Depression. He also vehemently opposed the construction of any street or boulevard bisecting Mount Royal. At the very least could we consider changing the name?

b) As you can see from the map embedded here (use bird’s eye view for best results), the parkway cuts-off access to a small, but significant, portion of Mount-Royal Park. I say significant because the ‘dead-zone’ would allow better access to the undeveloped portions of Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Cemetery and the parkland owned by the Université de Montréal. Thus, any discussion of a Mount Royal pedestrian and cycling ring-road would have to consider whether such a path and the parkway could actually coexist. Chris Erb of Spacing Montréal discusses the proposal for a new park on the Outremont Summit, an idea which was floated around in the Fall of 2009 and, I believe, is still very much up in the air. If anything, Mount Royal’s protected status is more tenuous than ever with the announcement of a new fenced-off condo development at the site of the former Marianopolis College, and the still as-yet unfinished saga concerning the redevelopment of the former Outremont convent. That being said, if there’s an earnest will from the populace to increase the total protected space of the mountain-park, then the parkway will have to be the first to go, since it acts more as a boundary then bisecting scenic drive.

c) As a result of the parkway, there are several large parking lots on the mountain – land that had once been raw natural forest. Given that the mountain has, traditionally, been frequented overwhelmingly by locals, and not tourists, the necessity of so many parking lots near the summits can be called into question. Especially because, once upon a time, a tram ran the length of the parkway. Reclaiming the parking spaces could be done by investing in a new tram, one which would ideally run from the bottom of Guy (placing a terminus at the corner of William in Griffintown) up to Cote-des-Neiges, dropping people off at a mountain terminus near the pavilion at Lac aux Castors (you’ll notice, a loop already exists here). This could effectively allow the rest of the parkway and the parking lost to be reclaimed as parkland.

d) The photo above demonstrates another problem – there used to be a tunnel at that exact spot. The tunnel allowed people to get from the Mount-Royal side to the Outremont side over-top, not to mention offering considerably more room for the variety of animal species native to the mountain park. Even if the parkway remains, at the very least, a new tunnel ought to be built here, to allow for the maximum level of freedom of movement.

Horse-drawn carriages at the Mount Royal Chalet, 1960s - not the work of the author.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to the summit, though I think I was up there earlier this Summer. The improvements to the Peel Staircase and the access to the Olmstead Trail are excellent additions, welcoming urbanites with elegant and naturalistic entrances that fit into the idea of the sacred, leafy refuge. I remember the last time I was up there a temporary fence had been put up to divide the belvedere into two parts, though no work was being done at the time.

Still, as the city grows and the last remaining scraps of undeveloped land in the CBD is gobbled up as it will be over the next couple of decades, protecting our green spaces is going to become an even greater priority.

We should remind ourselves that, while Mount-Royal Park is indeed exceptionally large and, in essence, our own little playground, it serves a very large geographic area and further supports an inordinately large population. This is a major issue for any urban citizens of Montréal, as the city and real-estate developers frequently point out our major parks when attempting to justify the destruction of smaller green-spaces. Such as it was with regards to Parc Oxygene, a small green-space developed by community members on a piece of otherwise unusable land. The apparent ‘owner’ of the plot has told residents they can just as easily go to Mount Royal Park, Fletcher’s Field or Parc Jeanne Mance, all of which are about a block away. However, much like theatres, concert halls and bars, parks have a capacity, and overloading our parks will inevitably lead to their ruin.

Don’t believe me? Consider the 1976 St-Jean-Baptiste Day celebrations, which saw tens of thousands of people descend on Mount-Royal. The damage to the park and pollution from one day’s worth of festivities was more traumatic and required a more extensive clean-up than did the Ice Storm of 1998!