1. Departure from Ottawa on a Crisp October Morning

The morning I left Ottawa, the air had that unmistakable October sharpness—cool, clean, and slightly sweet with the scent of fallen leaves. My breath fogged up in small clouds as I loaded the car. The trees on my street had already begun their transformation, a palette of gold, crimson, and deep auburn. It was just past 7:00 a.m., and the sun was still casting long, golden shadows across the pavement. Coffee in hand, GPS set not just for Montréal but for discovery, I started the engine and pulled out onto the near-empty roads.

This wasn’t a rush to reach a destination. I had driven the Ottawa–Montréal corridor before, but October changes the entire rhythm of the landscape. I planned this trip with time to spare—not only to stop at scenic lookouts but also to follow curiosity wherever it might lead along the way.

2. Mapping the Route: The Balance Between Efficiency and Beauty

The most efficient route from Ottawa to Montréal is Highway 417, which becomes Autoroute 40 in Québec. But efficiency isn’t the only lens worth viewing a road trip through, especially not in the fall. I decided to keep the 417 as my backbone while occasionally deviating to explore more scenic backroads and small-town stops that don’t appear on most itineraries.

Leaves rustled across the pavement in waves as I drove. The farther I moved from the city, the richer the colors became. The morning light, angled and golden, lit up entire rows of maples in full blaze. I found myself slowing down more than once just to admire a stand of trees that looked like they were on fire with color.

3. First Stop: Casselman – Autumn Stillness in a Franco-Ontarian Village

Casselman, about 45 minutes east of Ottawa, made for a fitting first pause. The town was quiet that morning. A few people were raking leaves into neat piles, and the scent of woodsmoke hung in the air. I pulled into the parking lot of a local boulangerie and stepped inside, the warm smell of baked goods immediately enveloping me.

I ordered a café allongé and a pain au chocolat and sat near the window. The place was half full—locals chatting in French over newspapers, a young couple planning something over a notepad. Through the glass, I watched golden leaves fall one by one, carried gently by the breeze, until they landed on the sidewalk like pieces of parchment.

4. Transitioning into Québec: A Change in Language and Landscape

Crossing into Québec, the shift was subtle but perceptible. Road signs took on their French forms. The language of radio stations flipped. Even the foliage seemed to take on new personality, as the forests grew denser and the reds became more dramatic. The terrain flattened slightly as the Ottawa River came back into view, glinting silver under the morning sun.

The stops became less about necessity and more about curiosity. I pulled off near Rigaud to fuel up and grab some local snacks. Inside the convenience store, the shelves offered everything from maple taffy to small-batch apple cider. A few families were gathered outside with steaming cups of cider, bundled in sweaters and scarves, their laughter blending with the rustling of leaves overhead.

5. A Scenic Detour: Chemin des Outaouais in Full Fall Color

Instead of staying on the highway, I made a turn onto Chemin des Outaouais, a lesser-known but remarkably scenic road that parallels the Ottawa River for much of its length. October had turned this stretch into a living postcard. Trees formed natural archways over the road, their branches heavy with fiery foliage. Every curve revealed a new burst of color, a new angle of the river’s reflective surface, a new mood in the light.

I stopped near Plaisance National Park. A wooden lookout tower overlooked a marsh that had turned golden-brown for the season. Canada geese gathered in formation overhead, their honking echoing across the landscape. The stillness was thick, broken only by the crunch of my boots on the gravel path.

6. Approaching Montréal: Autumn Yields to City Pulse

The closer I got to Montréal, the more the fall stillness gave way to urban energy. The trees gave way to buildings, and the rolling countryside transitioned into overpasses and intersections. But even here, the season made itself known. City parks were littered with fallen leaves, and ivy-covered buildings blazed red as if the bricks themselves had caught fire.

I entered Montréal through Sherbrooke Street, which winds through some of the city’s most beautiful neighborhoods. October here means cozy sidewalk cafés with heat lamps, fashionable scarves, and pumpkins displayed outside flower shops. I rolled down the window and let the cool, crisp air fill the car.

7. Lodging in the Plateau: Heritage Warmth for a Chilly Evening

I had reserved a room in a heritage guesthouse located near Square Saint-Louis. The house, built in the 1880s, had been lovingly restored—its exterior a mix of deep burgundy and forest green, perfectly in step with the season. Inside, the wooden floors creaked underfoot, and a faint scent of lavender and old books permeated the hallways.

My room faced a narrow street lined with mature trees, their branches brushing the bay windows. I stepped out onto the small wrought-iron balcony and took in the scene—fall jackets, distant laughter, and the rhythmic crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves.

8. Autumn Dining: Hearty Plates and Warm Spaces

Hunger set in, and I made my way toward Saint-Laurent Boulevard. Schwartz’s Deli, always a beacon of Montreal tradition, had a line even in the chilly evening air. I didn’t mind. The scent of smoked meat mingled with that of roasted chestnuts from a nearby vendor.

The sandwich arrived thick and steaming, the smoked meat piled generously between slices of rye, mustard just sharp enough to cut through the richness. I paired it with a local apple cider—a seasonal offering that matched the moment perfectly. Outside, the night had grown darker, and the streetlamps lit up the golden leaves scattered on the sidewalk like stained glass.

9. Exploring Old Montréal at Night

Later that night, I wandered through Old Montréal. In October, this district takes on a ghostly beauty. The cobblestone streets, slick with recent rain, reflected the warm lights from lanterns and storefronts. The trees in Place Jacques-Cartier were half-bare, their remaining leaves catching in the wind.

The Notre-Dame Basilica stood like a sentinel against the night sky. A light fog had begun to roll in from the river, and the air was rich with the scent of damp stone and autumn decay. I walked along the riverfront near the old port, where fire pits had been set up for passersby. Groups of people gathered around them, sipping warm drinks, their faces lit by orange flames and flickering shadows.

10. A Morning Stroll Through Mile End

The next morning, I made my way to Café Olimpico in Mile End. The air was crisp enough that I could see my breath, but people were still sitting outside wrapped in scarves, nursing espresso in small ceramic cups. The café’s interior was warm and bustling—Italian voices mixing with French and English in a cheerful, caffeinated murmur.

I grabbed a bagel from St-Viateur afterward, still warm from the oven. I ate it on a bench nearby, watching golden leaves fall over a parked bicycle. Everything seemed to move slowly, yet completely alive with purpose. October in Montréal doesn’t rush. It lingers.

11. Driving Up Mont Royal: The City in Autumn Panorama

I took the car up to Mont Royal and parked near the chalet. From the lookout, the city looked draped in autumn. Orange and yellow leaves framed the skyline, and the Saint Lawrence shimmered under the clear blue sky. I stood at the railing for a long while, surrounded by others doing the same, each of us momentarily silent before such a view.

Behind me, joggers passed, dogs trotted beside their owners, and children played in rustling piles of leaves. I wandered down one of the wooded trails, the crunch of each step echoing through the forested paths like a metronome.

12. Return Drive: Golden Light and Small Towns

On the way back to Ottawa, I opted for a slightly different route—through Hudson and Alexandria. The late afternoon sun poured down through the thinning trees like honey, coating everything in a soft, warm light. I stopped in Hudson for a quick coffee and found a small gallery displaying local autumn landscapes—oil paintings that somehow managed to capture exactly what I’d seen.

In Alexandria, I pulled into a roadside diner that had clearly been there for decades. The poutine came steaming, with squeaky cheese curds and a gravy rich enough to be a meal in itself. Outside, the sky had turned a deep shade of lavender, and the horizon was a jagged line of black trees.

13. Cruising into Ottawa at Dusk

By the time I neared Ottawa, dusk had fallen. Streetlights blinked on one by one, and the traffic thickened slightly as people returned from their weekend escapes. The car was dusty, dotted with leaves that had found their way into the crevices, and still smelled faintly of smoked meat and roasted coffee.

The ride wasn’t long, but it felt full. October has a way of slowing things down just enough for the world to reveal a few more layers. And when those layers are painted in red, gold, and fire-orange, even a familiar road becomes something worth rediscovering.