I’ve never been a great sleeper. If left alone, my brain will run a marathon’s worth of circles, especially when it has something to chew on. The problem came to a head during my first year. The more I contorted myself on my residence-supplied mattress, the more tightly constricted I felt by it and by my thoughts. At some point, I simply could not bear the deafening clamour that arises within me in the absence of external stimuli, so I got up and left.

I scattered footprints upon miles of the city that night. I got back to my room at 4 a.m., finally met with the soothing absence of motion in my skull. Did I wake up tired the next day? Perhaps. But did I wake up content and focused? Absolutely.

These late-night walks became more common over the next few months. I would leave my stifling thoughts behind, trekking across the chilly, silent nocturnal landscape of wintry Montreal. My appreciation for these treks has only grown with experience. They let me understand my small place in the magnitude of the city around me. My walls, once impenetrable, became paper-thin and lost their claustrophobic pressure.

As I continued my journeys, I developed three tacit rules that maximize their results. I’ve laid them out here for anyone interested, in descending order of importance. 

1. Nighttime

A small disclaimer: I’m a masc-presenting white man with perhaps less-than-adequate regard for my personal safety. I acknowledge that this rule is unwise, but all of my Mattwalks took place in the deep hours of the morning—and to great benefit. You get to see what the city chooses to illuminate in the absence of the contrast-ablating sunlight, whether that be the ever-looming crimson glow of Farine Five Roses or the strands of low-hanging stars warming St. Laurent. If the option is viable for you, I would say it’s the most important one to replicate a Mattwalk. To mimic the experience with somewhat less risk, maybe bring along a friend to walk silently on the other side of the street.

2. Silence

This is both an internal and external commandment—No music, no talking, no people. Nighttime aids this endeavour with its muted isolation. You can pick up the flitting steps of cats through the alleys, and the rush of the St. Lawrence becomes pure without the clamour of the city clashing against it from behind. Moving in and through silence attunes you to Montreal’s underlying natural hum, resetting your own to a calmer baseline.

3. New direction

While there is a certain comfort in routine, I found that my best night marches took me somewhere unknown (with the same disclaimer as Rule 1, of course). When placed on a citywide scale, whatever I’m feeling becomes smaller, quieter; unapocalyptic. These forays have the side benefit of improving your mental map of Montreal. While you may lose the short-term comfort of self-placement during the walk, you regain it twofold afterward, as no part of Montreal is so far from a known landmark that you are ever truly lost.

3a) Follow your passion

Other than “somewhere new,” where do you go? The answer lies in whatever piques your interest—perhaps a beautiful night light display as in Rule 1 or a natural burble as in Rule 2. The only limit is your boldness.

3b) No take-backsies

If you cannot go somewhere you’ve been, by extension you cannot backtrack, whether to divert from your current passion-point or to return home. Once you have committed to a Mattwalk, you have committed to its full elliptical route and each point along the way.

3c) Match zig with zag

If nothing whets your interest, shift your route. Walking in a straight line can turn up great sights, but zig-zagging frequently will both diversify your experience and give you a great payoff of spatial awareness. 

Whether you’re feeling caught in space, want some good exercise, or simply crave an extended encounter with fresh air, I could not recommend my beloved Mattwalks more.