Montreal’s snow village
Ice hotels are great, but Montreal has an entire village of snow
I spent the night with the great Maurice Richard. There. I said it.
Nicknamed “The Rocket,” Richard was the Montreal Canadiens legendary and most beloved Hab. His figure and famous steely stare, now rendered in a large slab of ice, seems to watch my every move as I disrobe in the Montreal Canadiens Room, a.k.a. the Sainte Flanelle ‘holy cloth’ at the Village des Neiges (Snow Village).
By the unsparingly harsh St. Lawrence River hovering on the edge of l’île Sainte-hélène, with the lofty disco cross perched on Mount Royal in the distance, the manmade snow village sits nicely atop another manmade incarnation. This reclaimed island was a glorious by- product from Montreal’s subway construction and ironically was the location for another crowd pleaser: Expo 67.
Now, snowsuit crowds spill into the Snow Village after 11 a.m. when the billetterie opens. Some were there to sightsee; others to dine. Me — I went for the overnight experience. Jean Francois Gauthier, a lead carver, was sculpting an unfinished snow repro of Montreal’s historic market Bonsecours when I spotted him.
“I am a snow warrior,” he says, waving his trowel like a saber and surrounded by luminous snow mounds glowing in candy red and icicle blue. An accomplished carpenter whose previous stints include Quebec City’s fabled ice hotel, Gauthier cracks an infectious smile when asked about the mild weather conditions, a balmy -5 Celsius on my visit last week.
“I work day and night and it’s been hard at times,” Gauthier admits. But it’s evident that his persistence has helped transform the Parc Jean Drapeau into a winter wonderland. Indeed. North America’s first snow village takes a front seat to other snow village locales like Finland and Norway. Spanning a football field three minutes from a subway station, nowhere else in the world will you find this grand scale with a close proximity to public transit. Imagine 45,000 sq metres of snow from snow cannons blasted and sculpted in a record three weeks. “It was a miracle,” laughs Carl Fugere, 38, one of the visionaries behind the current concept, who collaborated with his partners Yanick Tremblay and Guy Bélanger. “I love winter,” the co-founder said over a beer at the bustling Amarula Ice Bar. “For me it is magical and because the concept is a snow village each year we want to reproduce another big city in the world.” A scaled model of Montreal captures the best highlights of the city. A hip resto helmed by Eric Gonzalez, a Michelin star chef, captures sublime hearty fare inspired by Quebec flavours at this fixed menu igloo. There’s an ice chapel with a wall of flying doves by the altar; and even a conference room ready to host fashion label Rudsak during the upcoming Montreal Fashion Week.
Inside the 30-room hotel, the room numbers are encased in ice
and presented as frigid minus degree numbers. Local designers like Rudsak furnished the chairs and bed covers, while suites are themed in enchanting parodies of local fixtures. There’s a nod to the vibrant music scene with the Music Room, the Formula One Grand Prix room, and of course, the love of the circus.
“If I slept here, I would pick this circus room,” reveals Arouny Nokya, 24, a credit analyst from Paris on her first trip to Montreal.
Over by the Amarula Ice Bar, Alessandro Pinho from Rio de Janeiro Brazil quaffs down a whisky in an ice cubed shot glass. “I arrived this morning and tonight I am here to witness this. It’s beautiful and I’m not missing the tropics one bit.”
Then there’s Amy Surla, a Niagara Falls resident, whose 34th birthday wish was to overnight there. “This place was on my bucket list,” she beams surrounded by her two kids and husband, each embracing the magical setting in their own way.
Dinner was served in an igloo themed to the bubbly Pommery Champagne Company in France. Surrounded by golden ribbons of curtains puddling onto the snowy carpet with Pommery bottles delicately ensconced on the fleeting white walls, diners shuffled by, ready to try whatever main course the chef dreamed up. For the appetizer, I chose a creamy butternut squash soup with crispy bacon garnish but the hearty stick-to –yourribs main was a slowly braised deer shank cooked in red wine with root vegetables.
Slowly the sightseers left, leaving the die-hard overnighters to prepare for a night to remember.
In this lunar world caught between reality and fantasy, I plunged fast into the steamy hot tub, as a light snow dusted the village. In the distance, Montreal’s skyline was ablaze in lights that seemed to dance off the river. The view from Isle Ste Helene was heavenly.
Body core temperature elevated, I dashed to the nearby change room, and jumped into my thermals, long johns, tuque, woolly socks, and scarf.
Past the misty hot tubs and the tundra setting with igloo pods scattering the village, I parked my urbanite sensibilities outside the red curtained doorway to my abode and zipped into the thermal hi-tech sleeping bag unfurled on the fur bedcover atop my bed of ice.
Finally it was time to face Maurice.
He was poised looking at the sculpted Stanley Cup at the foot of my bed. Above my head was a Cana- diens hockey jersey and in the corner a couple of antique wooden seats, relics from the old Montreal Forum. The mood was set by red, white and blue lights that illuminated the room. For a fleeting moment I imagined being at the Forum cheering for the Rocket as he dekes through the Maple Leafs. He shoots, he scores!! The room was blissfully silent, the air cool, the sleeping bag divinely warm — I drifted off into a dream with Maurice by my side. Ilona Kauremszky is a freelance writer based in Toronto. Her trip was subsidized by Tourisme Montreal.