Delphi complete works of.., p.767
Delphi Complete Works of Stephen Leacock, page 767
The bridge is not a railway bridge but only for vehicles and pedestrians. It has a roadway of thirty-seven feet to carry four lines of vehicles, room for a tramway on each side of the road, and outside all a sidewalk five feet wide on each side of the bridge. The bridge came as a consequence of the hopeless crowding and congestion of the Victoria Bridge after the advent of the motorcar. This latter bridge had been remodeled in 1898, the tube structure removed, and a new deck constructed for trains and vehicles on the original piers. It proved hopelessly inadequate. A further relief for transriver traffic was given by the Honoré Mercier Bridge at the west end of the island from Ville LaSalle (near Lachine) to Caughnewaga.
No feature of progress has meant more to the Port of Montreal than the unremitting fight against the ice which has successfully lengthened the season of navigation. The port is now open for seven and a half months each year, a gain of nearly a month on the conditions existing half a century ago.
But in spite of all that has been done the closing in of winter is inexorable. More than that: we have to accept as a permanent condition of the activity of the Port of Montreal the fact that we have now reached the limits imposed by nature on the lengthening of navigation. Two myths, always present in the popular mind, prevent the acceptance of this unwelcome truth. One is that the increasing mildness of the Montreal winter will render it more and more easy to keep the river open. The other is that the further progress of ice breaking and the treatment of ice with thermit explosives and similar methods may enable the channel to be kept open no matter what the winter is like.
Each of these popular ideas is an utter fallacy which it is important to explode. Let us take first the climate of Montreal, and put it down on paper with the pen point of impartial truth. We have already spoken of it in certain regards. Let us follow now the round of the seasons. The climate of Montreal is for many of us the best in all the world. Beside it London is dark and California garish, Winnipeg cold, New Orleans hot, Philadelphia neutral, and New York impossible. But we don’t call it a mild climate. In Montreal the approach of winter is gradual, its departure rapid. September is clear and cool with blue skies and nearly always snowless. October is sharp but still bright, and bright with the glorious autumn color of the Canadian trees, with now and then a driving flurry of snow, a mimic snowstorm, and later, as if in repentance, the still and mellow Indian summer. November is, as it is everywhere, November — with wind and rain and mud, snowfalls of wet snow that at times bring the permanent winter snow to the city by the last week of the month. The temperature of November averages 33.4; the lowest record in forty years is zero, the highest 68 above. December sees winter, the real winter always threatening and never quite there, Christmas always risking to be “green” and vindicating itself with a Christmas snowstorm, the temperature averaging 19.8 above zero. January opens, at least by tradition, with a January thaw, the streets all aslop with wet snow that is turning to slush; then after this piece of fooling it turns to real cold with but little break or letup till February is over; by real cold we mean an average of 13, with spells below zero, snow that keeps falling and lying in the streets, and, where not shoveled away, great piles of it accumulating beside the sidewalks. In March the temperature falls but the winter stays. Montrealers, as already said, debate each year the prospect of “dust on St. Patrick’s Day,” but few have seen it since St. Patrick. April, we pretend, is spring, with average temperature of 41 degrees, but winter keeps coming back, with snowstorms, with ragged snow on the mountainsides, the port still frozen up but with news of the icebreakers bringing relief from below Sorel. Gradually, with a new annual surprise, the icebreakers reach the port, the port opens, a deep-sea captain gets a gold-headed cane, and first thing we know it is Maytime, all tulips and willow buds and soft airs, and after one week, no longer spring — midsummer.
CLIMATE OF MONTREAL — FORTY-YEAR AVERAGE
Average Temperature
Record High
Record Low
Jan.
13.3
53
-27
Feb.
13.9
47
-27
Mar.
25.8
68
-15
Apr.
41.6
83
2
May
55.3
89
23
June
64.7
92
38
July
69.6
95
46
Aug.
66.5
96
43
Sept.
58.4
90
32
Oct.
46.6
80
22
Nov.
33.4
68
0
Dec.
19.8
59
-25
One observes the contrast between the height of the summer navigation season and the depth of the winter that seals it. On a summer night Montreal seems all leaves and lights, and people out of doors at all hours, with long-drawn steam whistles from the boats in the Lachine Canal soft on the night. But compare a February night, in the cold heart of winter, twenty below zero, with a blizzard raging over the city in conflict with the great rotary snow plows, electric lights dimmed and blurred by the snow, and nothing moving in the street.
Such is winter in Montreal. Consider then the condition of winter navigation above and below it. The maritime harbors of Canada on the Atlantic do not freeze up, but the Strait of Belle Isle, Cabot Strait, the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and the river below the Island of Orleans are so blocked with moving ice, ice floes, and the solid ice along shore that there is no question of winter navigation beyond the smashing of a ferry passage from Quebec to Levis. When Cartier spoke of six feet of ice around his winter-bound ships in the Ste. Croix (beside Quebec) he spoke what is known to be true. The river freezes solid above Quebec as does Lake St. Peter, and not only freezes solid but tends from the movement of the current below the ice to pile huge ice jams far thicker than the average two feet of ice. Above Montreal the St. Lawrence freezes solid, and with it the connecting water sections all the way to Lake Superior, except where the fiercer current of the rapids breaks a way open to the surface. The Great Lakes do not freeze but their harbors do. Navigation comes to a full stop.
Montreal is thus blocked on both sides.
Nor are the winters getting milder. That ancient myth goes back to the earliest-known Canadian history. They were said to be growing milder in Frontenac’s time. Peter Kalm, the Swedish traveler mentioned previously in this book, was told in 1749 by an ancient habitant that the winters when he was young were much more severe. But the thermometer will have nothing of it. It shows no general change over the whole period of definite record, now at least a century. The winters of 1933 and 1934 were, for many parts of eastern Canada, the coldest ever recorded.
So much for the fallacy of milder winters. Now take the fallacy of the conquest of the ice. In some senses, and very important ones, ice engineers have overcome the problem of the ice, more by the achievement of Howard Barnes of McGill University than by that of any other one man. People seldom realize what a triumph of engineering they are witnessing when they drive past a great Canadian power house and power dam thrown across a river a quarter of a mile wide, operating in midwinter at twenty degrees below zero, with two feet of solid ice above and the broken water of the tailrace below, smoking into the frozen air. This was not possible till the engineers learned how to deal with “frazil ice,” which means not honest, solid ice two feet in the chunk, but the dirty, mean stuff all half afloat in little broken bits like smashed-up rock candy. This stuff used to clog the flues and the turbines.
If anyone interested wishes to see a queer memento of this let him drive out along the Lower Lachine Road till he reaches, near to Lachine itself, the remains of what was the first attempt to supply electric light to Montreal. A queer old building, squat and low and long, runs straight out into the water to catch hold of a natural strip of rock which rises above the river. With the help of a little damming this enabled them to cut off a little section of the Lachine Rapids — a very little bit was enough — in order to turn it into light. It worked provokingly well in summer in the long daylight. It wouldn’t work in winter, and the engineers used to sit in their electric-light building, trying to figure out by lamplight what was the matter with electricity. That day is passed. That problem is solved. We can generate electric power all over the Arctic regions from the great reserve of water power, to send out light and heat to less favored areas, to carry human life and industry to the farthest north. This triumph of engineering probably means more to the future of Canada than any other mechanical invention.
Thus much for power; not so for navigation. There the ice must have its way. Any idea that the Port of Montreal can be kept open all winter is just a dream. It is a fancy that has often been encouraged, especially during the days of rapid advances made with icebreakers and the impressive results of the use of the chemical mixture called “thermit.” Thermit is a mixture of aluminum in fine grains with an oxide of a chemically weaker metal, usually iron. On being heated by a priming, as of magnesium powder, the aluminum combines violently with the oxygen of the oxide, generating great heat and setting the other metal free in the molten state. It does not explode but splatters the molten metal while burning. To the innocent eye it seems to be burning up the ice. Hence hope improved on success and rumor outstripped achievement. Newspapers at times report inventions, or suggestions, for keeping open the river channel all winter by installing warm electric wires along the ice. Another good way would be to pour hot tea on it.
It is evident then that, generally speaking, the ice conditions in the Gulf and in the Cabot Strait govern the length of the season at Montreal. On this point Mr. J. G. Macphail, the Director of Transport, writes: “It is to be observed that in 47 of the 55 years of the table (of annual first arrivals of ships at Montreal) the first arrival from sea was generally much later than the date of channel-opening from Quebec to Montreal. In only eight of these years did the first arrival from sea come within two days of the date of open channel.
“Last departures for sea are governed by conditions in the river itself and in the Gulf. This is due to the desire of ship owners to profit by every possible day and is made possible by the use of the Department’s icebreakers both in the river and, in some cases, in the Gulf.”
One may perhaps quote further, since the point is one of illimitable importance to Montreal and of direct bearing on the seaway problem, the dictum given by Sir Alexander Gibb in his National Ports Survey, a report of 1931-32:
“In dealing with the Ship Canal, it is opportune to refer to the question of winter navigation, which from time to time receives a certain amount of publicity. The introduction of icebreakers has extended the season of Montreal by sixteen days; it previously averaged 7 months and is now 7½ months. Theoretically, the earliest and latest dates yet recorded are respectively March 29 in 1921 and, until the present 1931-32 abnormal conditions, January 6 in 1929. For all practical purposes, however, the season may be said to open in the third week in April and to close in the first week in December. This is much as can be certainly secured by the present methods; the expense is considerable but the results have been very valuable. To go beyond this would require a revolutionary change in method and even if the object could be secured, which is exceedingly doubtful, there would be no justification for the expenditure necessary to maintain navigation through the whole winter.
“Apart, however, from the technical and financial considerations that would face the Government, the excessive cost to shipping of hull and cargo insurance, the difficulties of navigation and the risk of serious delays would be insuperable obstacles to the commercial use of the St. Lawrence in the winter. Unless and until entirely new methods are devised, it is, I think, idle to bring the idea of winter navigation into calculations regarding the St. Lawrence route; and I think the reputation of the route is only likely to be tarnished by efforts to extend unnaturally the season of navigation.”
Icebreakers indeed can do wonders. They originated from the Arctic whaling ships specially strengthened at the bow to be able to charge against the ice. The first recognized icebreaker, designed for that purpose only, was put on by Russia (1870) to keep open the Port of Cronstadt. After that they were much used in the Russian and Swedish ports. The earlier icebreakers such as the Lady Grey and the Montcalm, which were put on the St. Lawrence early in this century, were built spoon-shaped in the bow, and relied chiefly on lifting themselves on the ice, like a seal, and breaking it with their weight. More recent types resort also to cutting a passage through the ice with a propeller at the bow as well as at the stern. The great Russian icebreaker the Baikal works on keeping open a channel across Lake Baikal, a body of water over four hundred miles long, the lower part of which lies right across the path of the Trans-Siberian Railway. The channel kept open is fifty-two miles long through ice extending all the way and three feet thick.
It would be possible to keep the St. Lawrence channel open if we had icebreakers enough, working hard enough. But the cost of operation would be one of all proportion to any benefit received by the Port of Montreal; especially as the benefit derived from the earlier spring opening of the river, as far as ocean steamers are concerned, would be nothing at all, not one red cent, red or frozen. The point is that the Gulf of St. Lawrence and the Cabot Strait leading out of it could not be kept open. The Gulf does not freeze over as a solid mass, but the winter makes it an area of drifting ice floes with all shore lines and straits blocked with heavy ice. Commercial navigation is impossible. It is the opening of the Gulf which regulates now the opening of navigation up to Montreal. In old days the river was open for only a little over five months. The Gulf opened first and closed last. Ships waited for the river. Hence the prospects of early navigation in the season of today depend on the reports constantly sent in from the Gulf by aviation and telegraphed upriver to the Department of Transport at Ottawa from an Atlantic station, which is not to be named in wartime, but which is a city of over 60,000 inhabitants with a university in it and called after the head of the Board of Trade under George the Second.
Such reports, carrying the same old charm of the sea in its newest form, run in such a tone and tune as this:
FLIGHT NUMBER TWO STOP 1658 HOURS STOP PROCEEDED DIRECT TO NORTH PT P.E.I. THENCE TO GASPÉ TO HEATH PT ANTICOSTI TO CAPE GEORGE NFLD TO CAPE RAY TO 46.00 N 59.00 W TO SCATARI ISLAND AND ALONG COAST TO HALIFAX LANDED 1552 HOURS STOP ICE SIGHTED EN ROUTE STOP NORTHUMBERLAND STRAIT FROM CAPE TORMENTINE EASTWARD TO HILLSBOROUGH BAY OPEN WATER THEN CLOSE PACKED ICE AS FAR AS CAN BE SEEN STOP FROM CAPE TORMENTINE WESTWARD THROUGH STRAIT TO WEST PT P.E.I. CLOSE PACKED ON SOUTH SIDE AND EXTENDING NORTHWARD TO A LINE FROM MIRAMICHI BAY TO NORTH PT P.E.I. STOP WESTWARD OF A LINE FROM NORTH PT P.E.I. TO SOUTH PT ANTICOSTI OPEN WATER WITH EXCEPTION SMALL STRING TEN MILES EAST OF BIRTH PT STOP NORTH SIDE BAY CHALEUR OPEN WATER AS FAR AS CAN BE SEEN
Mr. Alexander Ferguson, the Port Manager of the Harbour of Montreal, makes the following interesting analysis of the situation from 1871 to 1940:
It is found that during the past seventy years the period of time the harbour is open to ocean navigation has definitely increased. This fact is clearly shown by the following averages:
70-
year
average
—
1871 to 1940, inclusive — 218 days.
60
“
“
—
1881 to 1940, inclusive — 222 days.
50
“
“
—
1891 to 1940, inclusive — 223 days.
40
“
“
—
1901 to 1940, inclusive — 226 days.
30
“
“
—
1911 to 1940, inclusive — 228 days.
20
“
“
—
1921 to 1940, inclusive — 231 days.
10
“
“
—
1931 to 1940, inclusive — 234 days.
Analyzing the earlier years still further, we find that during the ten years from 1871 to 1880, the harbour was open an average of only 207 days. Comparing this with the average of 234 days for the last ten years indicates that we can now reasonably expect some twenty-seven more days’ navigation than we could sixty-five to seventy years ago.
We have spoken of the typical Montreal citizen who sits and reads the summer sailing list of the port as people in Kentucky read about horse races. A marvelous sailing list indeed it is. The effect is created not so much by the impressive schedule of sailing dates of the great passenger liners, extending for weeks ahead, as by the announced voyages of steamers that seem to be striking out for ports all over the seven seas. Here are ships from Montreal to Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and as many dams as there are in Holland; ships from Montreal to the Baltic; ships direct from Montreal to South Africa, and of late years Montreal to West Africa; ships from Montreal to the Mediterranean and to Greece; and in the contrary direction ships of the New Zealand Shipping Company from Montreal to New Zealand via Cape Horn. Strangest of all are the sailings, not regular but intermittent, and presaging all kinds of things for the future are the sailings and the announced arrivals of ships between Vancouver and Montreal via the Panama Canal, or ships in port at Montreal on a voyage from Toronto and even Fort William to Vancouver. The strangest-seeming cargo route, for those who take an interest in such things, used to be that of the Booth Line out of Liverpool for Iquitos, Peru, not via the Pacific Ocean but up the Amazon, clear through Brazil and out again, to a seaport that ought to be, by school geography, on the top of the Andes. But the voyage from Fort William to Vancouver, in apparent defiance of the Rocky Mountains, is at least a close second.
