CITY SIGHTS

We take a stroll for 20 minutes along Wellington Street in front of the Parliament Buildings, past the luxurious Fairmont Château Laurier hotel, and north on Sussex Drive to Nepean Point, a rise of land behind the National Gallery overlooking the Ottawa River and Gatineau. The point is a familiar site thanks to its prominent statue of the French explorer Samuel de Champlain, who passed this way in 1613 and 1615 and whose likeness now stands proudly atop a lofty granite pedestal, gazing westward, his short cape in a frozen billow and his trusty astrolabe held aloft in his right hand. He looks comical to me — something about his pointy Vandyke beard — but maybe it’s because I know he’s holding his astrolabe upside down. Evidently the statue’s creator, Hamilton MacCarthy, was a better sculptor than a student of historical instruments of navigation.

The view from here is similarly panoramic as the one from the Peace Tower, but I like it better because it’s in the open air and affords a stupendous view of Parliament and its restored library in all its spired, Gothic Revival glory atop a sheer cliff. From this vantage point I can see the eight stepped locks that form the northern terminus of the Rideau Canal and, nearby, an unassuming limestone edifice literally overshadowed by the Hill.

The structure is easy to miss, but shouldn’t be, for it is Ottawa’s oldest building. Erected in 1826 as a commissary for workers toiling on the canal, it now houses the Bytown Museum, full of exhibits describing the evolution of Ottawa from its beginnings as a rough-and-tumble hinterland work camp called Bytown to logging boomtown to national capital. When we head down to visit the museum, Maddy and Noah are transfixed by a plaster cast of the hand of the assassinated Father of Confederation, Thomas D’Arcy McGee, while Vicki and I are diverted by oddball offerings such as a wooden vacuum cleaner and a lovingly preserved crust of bread, a scrap from a meal served to the Duke and Duchess of York when they visited Ottawa in 1901. I love this sort of stuff.

WE VOTE TO WHILE AWAY the remaining daylight hours by exploring a piece of Gatineau Park, a 36,300-hectare lake-andforest wilderness much loved by area naturalists, hikers, canoeists, kayakers, rock climbers, mountain bikers, road cyclists and, in winter, cross-country skiers. Just a 15-minute drive north of Parliament Hill, its rolling, twisty roads explode in autumn colour. Save for the odd masochistic cyclist, they’re also traffic-free. We’d been told that when the fall vegetation is at its photogenic peak, cars full of leaf-oglers jam these roads bumper to bumper.

We turn into the parking lot at tiny Pink Lake for a hike that turns out to be perfect for Noah and Maddy, who have already logged a number of kilometres on their little legs: it’s short and sweet. The route hugs the shoreline and is covered in places with long boardwalks and steep staircases, giving it a bit of a playground feel. We learn from interpretive signs along the way that Pink Lake is meromictic, meaning its water doesn’t circulate as in most lakes because the cliffs surrounding it prevent wind from blowing across its surface. The still water and deep bowl shape of the lake keep oxygen from reaching the bottom and, as a result, it is home to rare anaerobic bacteria. Things that fall into the depths do not rot or decompose. We all wonder what could be down there.

Noah bounds ahead on the trail, as if to speed us back to the car. This, of course, is exactly what he’s doing, because I’ve scored tickets for tonight’s NHL game between the Ottawa Senators and Florida Panthers. It’s just as well he gets us moving: Scotiabank Place, the 19,153-seat coliseum that houses the Sens’ home ice, is located way out in the suburb of Kanata, 23 kilometres west of downtown Ottawa.

Traffic is frustratingly heavy on Highway 417 practically the whole way, leaving us to find our seats just in time to hear the national anthems. From the opening faceoff, it’s clear that the Panthers are outmatched. Senators stars Dany Heatley, Jason Spezza and especially team captain Daniel Alfredsson seem to control the play whenever they hit the ice. They are a joy to watch, swooping, passing, scoring.

But the game is only part of the spectacle. Scotiabank Place is a nonstop bombardment of visual and aural sensation that renders boredom virtually impossible. As soon as the play stops, thumping rock music starts. Maddy and Noah lick ice creams and belt out “We are the champions” with appropriate fanlike gusto. When the giant scoreboard suspended above centre ice flashes “Go Sens Go!” we automatically start chanting with the rest of the crowd. The kids keep their eye on Spartacat (“Sparty”), the Senators’ cartoonish lion mascot, who wanders among the crowd, issuing vigorous high-fives and using a bazooka to fire rolled-up T-shirts into the stands. Vicki, not into this manufactured hoopla, contents herself with people-watching. “I feel like I’m in a Where’s Waldo book,” she says.

The Senators emerge victorious, 4-1, and we file with the satisfied masses back through the parking lot. We’re heading home to Kingston high on another adrenaline rush, and Maddy and Noah are only mildly disappointed that the trip is over. We’ve already told them we’ll be back.

Alec Ross is a writer based in Kingston, Ont. Photographer David Trattles lives in Toronto.