Transforming a space that once housed peep shows—decades-old adult film VHS tapes were discovered on the construction grounds—into a 10,000 square foot climbing gym, Café Bloc opened its doors in February 2020. Despite being operational on the cusp of a pandemic, the establishment persevered, cultivating an environment that’s seeing a lot of activity today.

Recreational basketball leagues, adult open ballet classes, you name it: Montreal is not a city devoid of active spaces or opportunities. It seems, though, that the climbing gym has transcended its typical audience and tapped into a larger cultural desire.

Where conventional gyms can breed comparison culture and intimidation—mirrored walls reflecting every perceived flaw, unsolicited advice from self-appointed experts, an unspoken hierarchy around who "belongs" near which equipment—climbing gyms operate on fundamentally different terms.

Chalked up. | Photograph: Richard Mardens / @rmardens

There's no treadmill lineup where you're hyper-aware of your pace relative to the person beside you, no weight room posturing, no pressure to conform to a single body ideal. The sport itself resists these dynamics: routes are colour-coded by difficulty rather than competitive leaderboards, progress is visible but personal, and the problem-solving nature of climbing shifts focus from how you look to what your body can accomplish.

This structural difference—combined with climbing's roots in outdoor adventure rather than aesthetic fitness culture—has allowed climbing gyms like Café Bloc to cultivate spaces largely free from the toxicity that plagues traditional fitness environments.

Alongside many other Montreal bouldering spots, the gym has carved—or perhaps inserted—itself into a new niche of third spaces. Complete with an event space, rooftop terrasse with an outdoor climbing wall, coffee shop and bar, and sauna, it rivals most traditional hangout spots. Though the site itself certainly invites community, other factors codify Café Bloc’s position amongst the city’s third spaces—namely, and unsurprisingly, the climbing.

Slices of life from Café Bloc. | Photograph: Supplied

Anyone can climb

Unlike other, more competitive sports, Yannick Ho says, “Regardless of your size, sex, or personal orientation (you can participate)... Climbing is a sport for anyone.”

Ho has been climbing for six years. Initially seeking an activity to do with his ex-girlfriend, Café Bloc has since become a place where he can challenge himself. As he views it, “every route is sort of like a puzzle. Your body is the missing piece; you have to change and modify (yourself) as you get further into the routes.”

“I feel like an adult on the playground,” says master’s student and Café Bloc frequenter Sophie Pellar. “I never felt judged in the beginning stages for not being as experienced as a lot of the other climbers in the gym… I’m just there to have fun.”

A climber for nine years, Salomé Stokes’ gym of choice varies—she’s “been to Café Bloc, Allez Up, Shakti, and Bloc Shop.” In her view, “climbing isn't about competition, (and) it's not about winning or losing. Everyone is at their own level, and everyone has different strengths and weaknesses. People like to chime in if they see a climber struggling or stuck in a route.”

This welcoming, forgiving atmosphere nurtures a natural community among its regulars, transforming bouldering gyms into more than a place to climb.

Photograph: Marie-Eve Gregoire / @_maieemaiee

Just like any neighbourhood bar or café, climbers (and their novice friends) head to Café Bloc. Though caffeine and booze are perhaps secondary to the physical sport, they certainly remain important in continuing the relationships forged on the wall.

Their events mirror those of more commonplace third space activities too, with trivia nights, chess tournaments, vinyl exchanges, and more.

First discovering Café Bloc because of its proximity to his work, Ho now regularly attends their climbing competitions and DJ sets. “Sometimes I bring friends. I’ve brought non-climbers here before, but for the events, I tend to go alone because I usually meet up with friends I already know here,” he says.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Pellar says, “I love climbing alone, but the main reason I go (is) the people… meeting at the climbing gym is the perfect way to take a break, have some social time, and move our bodies (and maybe indulge in a beer or two afterward).”

Prepping to climb and taking five. | Photograph: Richard Mardens / @rmardens

While she’s never attended any of the gym’s formal events, for Pellar, climbing is still as much (if not more) a social activity as it is a physical one. Despite securing its reputation as an inclusive social and athletic hub for Montreal’s young urbanites, for many, the gym remains inaccessible.

“Climbing is an expensive sport. My student membership is $90 a month… It’s a huge chunk of my monthly budget,” Pellar says. Compared to gyms in other cities, climbing in Montreal is a steep expense. In Lyon, Stokes recalls, a “monthly pass (regular, not student)… is approximately $82 CAD,” including tax.

Over the nearly thirty years since Montreal’s first bouldering gym opened, the city’s climbing culture emerged as a welcoming answer to the traditional gym’s exclusive environment. The culture will undoubtedly continue to flourish, but one additional puzzle remains to be solved: Will climbing gyms like continue to make a profit, without pricing out those within the demographics upon which their vibrant community was built?

Inside Café Bloc. | Photograph: Supplied

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Anyone can climb

The walls around a social hub

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Help us keep going! Every reader counts, paid or free.

AnnaClare Sung

The unlikely third spaces emerging from Montreal’s bouldering culture