The storm was every bit as bad as it appeared
on television. It began on Monday, the 5th of January and by
Tuesday, we began to see damaged trees, power failures and school
closings. Two neighbours immediately to the north of me, who
each had one tree in front of their houses, lost them. At that
time, however, we still did not fully realize what was coming.
[…] We had more ice on Wednesday night and it was devastating.
[…] It was difficult to sleep because of the sound of breaking
branches - either a sharp cracking or a slow tearing sound.
It was very painful to hear. […]
We tried to clear the outside stairs of ice. The curved stairs,
which are very pretty and picturesque and typical of Montreal
architecture, are dangerous at the best of times in winter.
Coated with ice as they were, they were treacherous. It was
necessary to scale the stairs rather than climb them. With the
use of a small axe and a pick loaned by neighbours, we managed
[…] to remove at least part of the ice. There were many
different layers, all remarkably hard. […] To this day,
the stairs are still not as safe as we would wish. There was
also a great deal of ice on my mansard roof, which is directly
over the stairs, and we managed to remove some of it.
Many of the trees in St-Louis Square are over one hundred years
old. By Friday, they were badly damaged and huge branches littered
the ground. Although
Drolet
Street had had power throughout most of the week, on Friday
at about noon, the power went out. […]
On that day, I foolishly decided to go through the laneway to
see the damage. Halfway through the laneway, I realized that
I should never have ventured in so far. I was afraid to go back
and afraid to go forward because of the broken branches and
wires which frequently blocked the laneway. It was necessary
to climb over and around the branches and wires. In addition,
there were broken branches which were still hanging from the
trees and which were due to fall. The trees were beautiful,
in a very eerie kind of way. They were completely covered with
thick clear ice. At the slightest wind, I would hear a clear
tinkling sound. I could also hear the occasional sharp cracking
sound as branches or ice fell. There was not a bird or animal
to be seen.
Because it was still light and the houses were, for the most
part, unheated, all the neighbours were outside, assessing the
damage and trying to remove ice. Cars were completely iced in.
Removing the ice from the windshields was a major feat. I saw
many persons using hammers, screwdrivers and mallets. Spirit
nevertheless was high and there was a lot of sharing (tools,
manpower, houses heated by wood burning fireplaces or by gas).
By 4:30 pm, it was getting dark, so we sought refuge with neighbours
who had had the foresight to install a wood burning fireplace
five years previously. We sat by candlelight in their living
room until 7:00 pm, chatting and listening to the news reports
on their battery powered radio. We then returned home where
I prepared a cold meal by candlelight and listened to news reports.
My neighbours had very kindly loaned me one of their radios.
Fortunately, the telephone was operating and a major part of
the evening was spent reassuring friends and relatives that
we were just fine. I subsequently heard on the news that we
were only able to maintain telephone service because Bell Telephone
had a powerful emergency generator which was able to provide
power long enough for two other huge generators to be flown
in from Vancouver on a Hercules aircraft. At about nine that
evening, we heard on the news that we were expected to limit
our use of water and to boil it because the two City of Montreal
water pumping stations did not have emergency generators. We
discovered subsequently that by the time power returned to Montreal
the next evening, there remained only a two-hour supply of water
and that the City had made arrangements to ship from other municipalities,
water which would have been distributed to residents at specific
locations. Considering the large numbers of people who were
using candles and oil lamps and who were heating their houses
with wood burning fireplaces, we were very lucky not to have
had major fires during that period.
We slept very comfortably that night. Although we have two sleeping
bags which are specifically designed for winter camping, they
were not necessary. The advantage to living in a reasonably
well insulated house which is attached on either side to other
houses was very apparent. Even the next day, we could manage
quite comfortably in the house, provided we were warmly dressed
(snowpants, woolen socks, shoes and sweaters).
I awoke early on Saturday morning and went looking for supplies.
Many stores were closed. Others were operating with candles
and generators. […] a portion of St-Laurent Boulevard,
near Hôtel-Dieu Hospital, had never lost power and stores
were open in that area. It was, however, impossible to find
batteries, bottled water, candles or fuel for fondue pots. Saturday
was a repeat of our activities of the previous day. We did,
however, receive visits from police officers, who were going
from house to house in order to ensure that everyone was fine.
At about 6:00 pm, power was restored in many parts of the island,
including our area. We were very fortunate, since the time spent
without power was very short. As I write this, I have friends,
relatives and acquaintances living in the so-called "triangle
of darkness" located to the south of Montreal, who are
still without electricity. They have proven to be remarkably
resilient. As a rule, despite many offers of accommodation,
many have chosen to remain in their areas, if not in their homes.
Others have left. […] There are very many instances of
people grouping together in heated homes and managing to cope.
Many have continued to work during most of this period, often
at double shift. Others spend much time looking for food and
wood, keeping fireplaces, stoves and generators going and looking
after the young and old. […]
[…] The entire center core of the city, including all the
office towers, has had to be de-iced, because the danger from
falling ice is extreme. At least one death has been reported
as a result and many cars have been damaged. For the past two
weeks, the City has been closing areas and systematically de-icing
them. I have seen people working on the buildings and it is
very impressive. Many look like alpinists scaling montains.
As late as last Tuesday, I was on Sherbrooke Street and I had
to remain in the building a few minutes longer because de-icing
operations were under way. The work involved in de-icing the
many bridges connecting the island and the steel pylons is nothing
short of heroic. During the worst of the storm, all the bridges
to the South Shore were closed. Many main highways were closed
since there was a danger that the ice, which had collected on
the overhead signs, would drop unto cars below.
As I write this, I can see through my window that neighbours
across the laneway are attempting to de-ice their roof. We had
a heavy snowfall on Friday and this new snow, in addition to
the ice, is straining roof capacity. Since Friday, at least
four roofs on commercial buildings have collapsed. The flat
roofs are of course the most vulnerable and we have worried
about mine. Since our roof surface is not large, we am probably
safe, but we plan on discussing it with friends and neighbours.
The likelihood of a collapse is remote, but there could eventually
be water damage when the ice begins to melt. Fortunately, the
front mansard roof was rebuilt last fall. It had been covered
with cedar shingles which were lifting and which were obviously
in bad condition. Had it not been rebuilt, there is no doubt
that the weight of the ice would have ripped off all the shingles.
The hydro system remains very fragile and we can anticipate
a few other minor (I hope) power failures between now and spring.
It will take far longer than that for Hydro-Québec to
repair and strengthen the system and it is obvious to all that
even once the work has been completed, the system will never
be fail-safe.
I have always been aware of how interdependent and vulnerable
we are, particularly those of us who live in cities. My brother
occasionally made fun of me when I talked of someday buying
a house in the country and becoming completely self-sufficient.
He knows, given my circumstances, that that would be extremely
unlikely. Clearly, that option is available to only a very few
hardy, stubborn and probably fanatical individuals. Even those
who lived in the country were not spared, since they are so
dependent on power to maintain farming and other operations.
Despite the fact that I was aware of my vulnerability, we were
very poorly equipped for the emergency. We rely exclusively
on electricity for heating, we did not have a battery powered
radio or camp stove or fondue pot which many used for cooking
during that period. We did not even have matches or an oil lamp
which worked properly (although we did have lamp oil which I
loaned to neighbours). Apart from a house which was becoming
progressively colder but which did provide shelter, all we had
were the two winter sleeping bags, candles, a supply of liquids
which might have lasted one week and a limited supply of canned
food. Although I very much doubt that we will ever attain self-sufficiency,
I am now looking at alternative heating methods and plan on
buying to-day, much of the equipment which we should have had
as a matter of course during the ice storm. Hopefully, we won't
ever have to use the equipment and it would obviously be of
only limited assistance in a major catastrophe (of apocalyptic
proportions of course!). Nevertheless, I resolve to always keep
supplies on hand in the future.
As for the lessons learned from this experience, I was reassured
by the extraordinary resiliency of the human spirit, but remain
acutely aware of our continuing vulnerability.
