As the days get longer, the weather outside slowly shifts from a cold winter breeze to a warm spring climate. As I leave my neighborhood, otherwise known by locals as Beaconsfield, these scarce yet delightful circumstances typically fan the flames of long strolls along the waters of the Lakeshore Drive. As my walk carries on, I observe the ends of the boardwalk seemingly leading into the blue skies above the St-Louis Lake.
As my instincts guide me, I find myself in the area where my heart feels at its warmest: the Pointe-Claire village in the West-Island. My nostalgic relationship with this particular environment stirs up a passionate flame inside.
From the corner of my eye, I notice a period type home, as precious as a vase that sees the blossoming bouquets of the Westmount florist, which has been established for over four decades on the side of the island I call home. It is quite the beautiful entrance to arrive in a village as if you opened the doors to an enchanted garden.
Although Lakeshore Drive, known for its numerous remarkable views on the waterfront, has another side to its telluric beauty… A slight turn of the head can change the whole scenery. In the village you notice a neat separation between old-fashioned and contemporary. The colorful mural on the rear ends of the Epicure market depicts the past so much that it makes you feel as if you’re walking through a painted canvas. As I’m walking through history, Pointe-Claire comes to life.
The small square directly in front of one of my most treasured local restaurants, Le Gourmand, sparks an interest. Further away, Cartier Street, taken over by tourists as much as city dwellers, the cafes impatiently waiting for the ice to liquefy and receive their spring clients otherwise known as the sailors and cyclists of the area, antique dealers mingling with ready-to-wear vintage clothing and the alleys with sacred names. Everything testifies to a heritage that has been transmitted with dignity from one generation to another. It is at once an escapade through the ages coinciding with a testimony of two cultures which have learned to walk hand in hand, even if certain notorious establishments in the sector keep in their walls the memories of the moments of intoxication during the settlement of disputes dealt through fist fights.
Likewise, I often think of my times at Clyde’s (from which I would sometimes flee without much recollection of my night) where we would chug down pints of beer faster than the balls on the pool table! The first hotel vocation of this building dating from the 19th century has in fact changed its name several times. From the Pointe-Claire Hotel to the one we baptized Pioneer, before and after Clyde’s, its several conversions then traded its brown plank siding and its vocation, for a condo edifice. This came as a great despair to those who have interceded on several occasions to preserve this heritage institution in Pointe-Claire.
My walk extends along the streets of St-Joachim where the sweet smell of pizza from Gigi’s tempts my taste buds. Fighting against my greedy demons by promising myself to return on the way back, I continue my walk on the Pointe-Claire peninsula. From there, the emblematic Moulin Banal, which is also the symbol of the city of Pointe-Claire, imposes itself by surviving since it is part of one of the eighteen mills still present in the decor of the Island.
Offering itself to the St-Louis Lake, the St-Joachim Church and its presbytery impose a paradox amongst themselves in all their magnificence and humility evermore stopping time for me to catch my breath. The scenery is spectacular! It seems as so it pays an eternal homage to the work of those who have built and rebuilt these timeless monuments through the years.
Furthermore, my goal is not to contaminate you with blogs during this rather irritating pandemic, although it comes from outside the heart of the village, its ancestor, the Spanish Flu once resided in those very whereabouts along the west coast of the island.
Indeed, while a viral epidemic of this virus was raging at the time, the prosperous merchant (one of the ancestors of our family) Edmond Morin, had sworn before God to build a chapel if his eleven children were spared from the virus. His wish having been granted, he honored his word and had this Catholic place of worship built in 1918 on the grounds of the family residence located on the Lakeshore. Since then, the house was destroyed to make way for the Bayview Center in 1962, which led to the chapel being moved to the bottom of the grounds and there as only the residents of the Center would still be apt to meditate there, but sightseers regardless, would also see its bell which overlooks the Jean Lesage highway.
On this note, I invite you all to tie up your shoes, hop on your bike or take on the lake in a kayak or snowshoes depending on the thaw, so that you too may be able to discover a hidden gem whose setting is in the West of the island.
