Last Friday I walked home via the frozen river that runs behind my building, which during the summer months I have to cross via a slightly out-of-the-way bridge. Bridges are for suckers. Anyway, the river is obviously frozen in the winter and it is home to Canada’s longest ice trail, which Winnipeggers use to great effect for recreation and transportation — mornings and evenings you’ll see people skating and walking to and from work on it. Of course, this being Winnipeg, the weather is capricious. Last week was remarkable in that it was cold but not too cold — cold enough to keep the surface of the river frozen but not so cold that the thought of leaving your heated abode makes you want to kill yourself. So you saw a lot more people out on the river. Over the last few days, however, we’ve experienced and unseasonable thaw, complete with ridiculous thinks like freezing rain and large, chilly puddles. As a result, the ice trails on the river are disturbingly liquid-looking. No one has been on the river this week, because that shit is dangerous.
Friday night I was getting a ride home from St. Norbert with my neighbour Sean, who enjoys many outdoor winter activities such as nighttime photography and snowshoeing. “Every time you go out on the river when it’s frozen, you’re taking a risk. You have to be careful.” This came up as we were talking about certain quarters calling for improved warning signage around the many outlets that line the river, pouring waste water into the river and thus creating a melty spot in the otherwise frozen waterway. Certain individuals, leaving the designated skiing trail, have been known to fall in to such spots. Sean figures it’s unreasonable to cordon off or even put signs at each of hundreds of outlets along the rivers; also, it’s something he’s not particularly anxious to see, because he’s the sort who would rather have the freedom to go where he pleases, taking his safety into his own cautious hands. “So it’s risky even when it’s -40?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. “But the thing is if you’re going to fall through the ice, you’re going to fall slowly.” Good point.
Anyway, it’s been kind of sad to look out my window at the slushy ice rinks and pathways that ribbon over the river this time of year. Kind of a waste, really. Especially since people in my building have taken to developing the winter landscape in the form of creating multiple toboggan runs down the riverbank from the parking lot to the surface of the river. So weirdly enough, I’m hoping the temperature drops from the 0/-1 level it’s been hovering around this week to a more manageable -10/-15. (All temperatures Celsius, natch.) This way the sidewalks will be less slushy/icy and the river will be useable again.
It's fascinating to take a close look at things that are inaccessible in warmer weather, like a bridge support, marked by high water lines and graffiti.
The river path is dotted with plywood shacks with benches for putting on skates and such. This one near the Osborne Bridge had been tagged with painted woodblock art by an artist whose identity I don't know. Al Lorde probably knows; I'll ask him and report back.
The concrete expanse that forms the base of the high-rise apartment building next to mine is a popular spot for graf artists, some with more finesse than others. This 5-foot high piece I found quite remarkable.
When the river initially froze, the water level was unusually high. As the water level sank to normal levels, the top frozen crust of the river broke up into chunks of ice that piled up on the riverbank. Neighbourhood folks created these inukshuk-like structures with the ice chunks.
Showshoe tracks on the river.
