An Ice-Hockey Pilgrimage to Montreal: A Traveler's Guide

On Friday, I jumped in a cab for my first stop—a hockey training facility. The driver, Fitchner Louisma, was a second-generation hockey-lover, the Montreal-born son of a Haitian immigrant who’d fallen so hard for the game that he named his son after Bob Fitchner, a forgotten member of the Quebec Nordiques, an NHL team that relocated to Denver in 1995.

We arrived at the facility, MyGoal Performance Hockey, attached to a retailer called Hockey Monkey in a suburban strip mall west of the city core. I had signed up for a one-hour private lesson. As I entered, a mother and her grade-school-age son, who’d evidently just finished a lesson, sat in the otherwise empty lounge, and a man worked out with a trainer in CrossFit-esque fitness area.

I first played ice hockey in a college gym class. (I’m 6-foot-7 and wasn’t exactly smooth out there on the ice—my teacher once likened me to a giraffe on skates.) I hadn’t played in two decades, but I did have a new pair of CCM skates and a willingness to look ridiculous.

My instructor, Anthony Biondi, set us up on the larger of two small rinks. A small John Deere tractor with a Zamboni attachment sat ready to erase whatever dents I made in the ice. Mr. Biondi drilled me on crossover strides that boost speed as you change direction, asking me to lift my knees in the exaggerated manner of a Rockette. We worked on sharp stops, stickhandling and shooting.

It felt like death by repetition. My feet got wobblier, my efforts to loop back to the starting point slower and my water breaks more frequent. Forgoing pads and borrowing just a helmet, stick and gloves turned out to be a mistake after a couple of falls left me with a sore knee and elbow.

These drills could easily translate into a fitness craze, emphasizing balance while pushing major muscle groups. That ping you hear when your shot sails in under the crossbar is as satisfying as any whap from a punching bag. By the time we finished, my T-shirt felt like it’d just been through a rinse cycle.

Sore but happy, I jumped in another cab back to the middle of town. This driver, Nadim Kiwan, arrived in Canada as a teenage refugee from Lebanon in time to catch the most recent of the Canadiens’ 24 Stanley Cup championships in 1993. These days, the team even affects his job. “When the Canadiens are playing, the roads of Montreal are almost empty,” he said.

Taking stock at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday in my room at Old Montreal’s Hotel Place d’Armes, I was sore in places I’d expected—back, shoulders, glutes—but also in parts I’d never thought about. The backs of my hands, it turns out, also have muscles. My phone warned that the current temperature, 13 degrees Fahrenheit, was the warmest it would be all day. I’d hoped to search for an outdoor game, but that wasn’t happening: A foot of snow would fall that day.

Instead I headed to the Forum, the Canadiens’ home from 1924 through 1996. Though now a shopping mall, the building pays homage to its history; old posters and photos line its walls and it houses a memorabilia shop dedicated to the team locals call Les Habitantes. But the experience was jarring. Would Chicago ever turn Wrigley Field into a used-car dealership?

By late afternoon I’d tricked myself into believing the weather was tolerable. It was 9 degrees Fahrenheit as I entered the Bell Centre arena for a real game.

With Montreal’s team a long shot to even make the playoffs this year, I was shocked by how many fans in bleu, blanc et rouge jerseys filled the stands soon after 5 p.m. Perhaps they were lured by the free bobblehead dolls of popular Canadiens forward

Brendan Gallagher

and other promotions.

Otherwise a generic modern arena, the Bell Centre never misses a chance to remind you how vital the Canadiens are to hockey history. Fans making beer runs can learn about a century’s worth of great names at a Hall of Fame-like display on the lower concourse: Maurice Richard, Lorne “Gump” Worsley, Bernard “Boom Boom” Geoffrion, Guy Lafleur and many more.

Before my trip I caught up on the phone with 1980s-era Canadien Chris Nilan, a fan favorite as famous for his fisticuffs as his scoring skills. He raved about the Bell Centre’s hot dogs, especially their toasted buns. Speaking of the dog you might get at a Bruins game in his hometown of Boston, he lamented, “It’s soggy, wet like a sponge. Here they serve it with a little more class.” With all respect due a player known as Knuckles, I have to say the Canadiens’ dogs were forgettable.

The game itself, against those rival Bruins, was the real feast. I watched warm-ups with my Friday lesson in mind as Montreal captain Max Pacioretty stickhandled the puck back and forth four times in under a second. I paid $235 for a seat seven rows from the ice on the Canadiens’ end, an ideal vantage point from which to watch All-Star goalie Carey Price slide across the crease in anticipation of a shot. I would have enjoyed more legroom in a club seat halfway up the building, but seeing everything up close easily offset any discomfort.

In the end, Boston won the game in a shootout, causing a little boy a row behind me to cry into his father’s shoulder. As I stepped outside into subzero temperatures, people brushed past me on their way to the neighborhood’s restaurants, others lingered outside the local bars for a smoke. Montreal can get colder than Mars. People deal with it. And if you can’t, it’s only five months until Jazz Fest.

THE LOWDOWN // A Hockey-Themed Trip to Montreal

Staying There: Le Place d’Armes Hotel is a high-end hotel with good winter deals. It’s just around the corner from the city’s Notre-Dame de Québec cathedral and cobblestoned Vieux Montreal neighborhood and two blocks from the Metro. Avoid rooms facing the noisy bar across the street. (Even in winter, this town is ready to party.) From $124 a night in February, hotelplacedarmes.com/en/

Eating There: If you go to a Canadiens game, skip the Bell Centre food and grab a stellar Lebanese meal an eight-minute walk away at Garage Beirut. Sop up the extra garlic sauce on the Shish Taouk with their fresh pitas. 1238 Mackay St., facebook.com/garagebeirut/ Breakfast at Le Passé Composé, a bistro in the residential Village neighborhood, isn’t a meal so much as breakfast triage: One order delivers four types of pork and panko-encrusted French toast. That’s right, breaded bread. Perfect for winter. 1310 Maisonneuve Blvd., facebook.com/bistrolepassecomposemtl

Skating There: Rinks are everywhere. Among the most picturesque: the Bonsecours Basin in the Old Port and Beaver Lake on Mount Royal. If you really want to go big, you can rent the actual Bell Centre ice for two or three hours. The DJ is included. From $6,500, nhl.com/canadiens/tickets/ice-rental. U.S. and Canadian regulations allow for flying with skates in carry-on bags.

Watching and Playing Hockey: There The Canadiens play seven home games in February. Get tickets at nhl.com/canadiens/tickets. There’s also a women’s pro team, the Canadiennes, whose games can be seen for $12 a ticket. MyGoal Performance Hockey offers lessons starting at $121, with price depending on time and duration. facebook.com/mygoalhockey . Recuperate at Bota Bota, a spa built from a converted party boat permanently attached to land in the Old Port. It offers massages, a water circuit and prime views of the city from the St. Lawrence River. Bring a swimsuit, flip-flops and something for wet clothes–Montreal has banned plastic bags. Treatments from $32, botabota.ca/en

The Pointe-à-Callière history museum in Vieux Montreal has an exhibit called Passion: Hockey running through March 11. Admission is free. pacmusee.qc.ca/en/exhibitions/detail/passion-hockey/