After spending the last four years in the wilderness of our oceans, and its water never being more than 10ft away, I suddenly find myself surrounded by 1000’s of km’s of solid continent in every direction and the ‘wilderness’ of a huge metropolitan city, Montreal. Museums, interesting pubs and poutine can keep any surfer interested (read: distracted) for two or three days, but sooner or later, the itch returns and the only real solution is getting back in the water.

Montreal, Canada has got to be home to one of the most unusual and hardcore surf scenes in the entire world. The St Lawrence River flows right past the centre of town, making its’ way from the Great Lakes to the North Atlantic. Tankers, tugs and all sorts of other craft ply the river waters, carrying materials and supplies to and from the huge cities situated on the Great Lakes. As the river bends past Habitat 67 (a proud relic of the World Expo’s), the combination of river bathymetry and flow creates a perfect little set of waves that sport some of the most dedicated surfers in the world. Here, the line-up… well, really is a line-up. Surfers, body boarders and kayakers line the river bank in a very organized and cordial line waiting for their turn to catch the wave. No cutting in line, budging, pushing to the front… everyone gets their turn. Snaking is not an option. Even the fine French boogie boarder with orange florescent webbed gloves, a blue scuba diving mask, his swimming nose piece and dive fins. It may take 45 mins to an hour to reach the top of the line on a nice sunny summer day, while in the winter you will just be sharing it with one or two people.

And winter in Montreal doesn’t mean you need to dust off the 4/3 and maybe a pair of booties. With air temperatures that hover in the -10’C to -20’C (-4F – 14F) range, and water that is not frozen purely due to the fact that it is moving too quickly to freeze, these ladies and gents are serious. Thought the Rip Curl H-Bomb was a gimmick… not here!

So after seeing 1500 museums, too many tasty pints and 1 order of poutine I decided it was time to go and see what this is all about.

I you are ever looking to get odd stares from complete strangers? Grab your board, toss your wettie in your back pack and try and use the public busses and transit system to get across the city. I whacked some poor passer-by’s with my board, dripped water all over the metro system (on the way back), got lost and tried to get directions in my non-existent French. After two hours in living in the bowels of the earth, I managed to escape and find my way to the river surfing paradise of Montreal.

While river surfing is a great release from the stress of the city, it is not like paddling out in the ocean and getting a couple nuggets.  It is more like stationary water-ski’ing. There are two waves in Montreal; one larger one that often features a huge ball of white water, and is very similar to heading to the beach to catch whitewash all day. The other is a little more temperamental and requires constant movement to make riding it possible. Boils, bubble-ups and weird warbles float down the river constantly affecting the wave shape and power. You feel like you are in an old Nintendo game, facing forwards dodging all the stuff floating down the river and taking advantage of every little bump that makes the wave a little steeper.

No matter what, after getting flushed down river and making the walk back to the line-up a couple times, you can’t help but be stoked to be riding waves again. The water may be freezing, but it is fresh and you feel almost clean when you do peel off your wetsuit.

So for the next little I have swapped the NOAA buoys and Wave watch forecasts for the rainfall warnings in the central plains and the river flow rate gauges. Poutine and St Ambroise beer have replaced fresh mahi-mahi and rum drinks, but I am still riding waves and getting in the water. Stoked.

PS. Poutine is a Quebec invention. Take an order of french fries, cover them with piles of cheese curds, and then pour thick warm gravy over the whole lot. Cheese melts, and the gravy penetrate everything… including your arteries.