ASK RON WILLS what itÕs like to have the Great Lakes for a neighbour and the 48-year-old elementary-school principal will tell you about the night of December 2, 1985.
Back then, Wills and his wife Evelyn lived near a sandy stretch of the northeastern Lake Erie shore called Long Beach. On December 1, he recalls, the level of the lake in front of their property was abnormally low: a strong east wind had pushed the cold, winter-grey water away from the shore and piled it up at the west end of the lake. The phenomenon, which occurs frequently on the five great inland seas, is called a seiche. It mimics ocean tides, although it is not caused by the moonÕs pull but by wind and changes in barometric pressure. Its effect is like sloshing water back and forth in a bathtub.
Having sloshed to the west on December 1, the water then had to spill back east. It did so with a vengeance about 1 a.m. the following morning, pushed by a rain-choked wind that had shifted almost 180-degrees and was howling at 90 kilometres an hour. It battered the shore with a succession of waves that crashed farther and farther inland as the lakeÕs level rose.
Ron and Evelyn Wills were awestruck by the barrage of wind and water. ÒIt was a terrible pounding, like someone taking a sledgehammer and hitting the house,Ó Ron Wills says. ÒThen it got worse, the sledgehammer became a bulldozer.Ó
Before the storm, their house had seemed secure. The solid bungalow was 20 metres from the lake, 10 metres above normal water level and protected by a series of concrete walls that rose in steps at a 45-degree angle from the shore.
Throughout the long, frightening night, while the elements raged, neither Wills dared go outside to check for damage: anyone on the lake side of the house risked being swept away. Besides, they had their hands full inside. The wild wind was forcing icy water through the seams of supposedly sealed storm windows. For hours, the pair fought to keep ahead of the flow, soaking up the water with towels and wringing it into pails, their hands blue and stiff with cold.
As the sun rose and the storm abated a little, Evelyn Wills went down to inspect the basement recreation room. She came back shaking. Part of the concrete-block wall on the southwest corner had fallen away. Where the wall had been, the lake lapped at her feet.
That was enough. The couple left by the back door to seek shelter with neighbours.
Even today, in a new home in Welland, they can hardly believe the power unleashed by the lake. The battering waves smashed their former homeÕs $50,000 concrete retaining walls and undercut the house, leaving part of the basement floor hanging over the debris. Wills grew up near the Erie shore and has always had a special affection for the lake and its many moods. Moving into the house had been a dream come true, and heÕs still trying to come to terms with losing it.
Similar stories are repeated all along the shores of Erie, Huron and Michigan, the three Great Lakes affected most by high water levels that set records throughout 1985 and Õ86. Estimates of flood and erosion damage along the U.S. and Canadian shoreline since 1985 range up to hundreds of millions of dollars. Although only a small part of the destruction occurred during that December storm, the dramatic event has become an emotional rallying point in a debate over whether humans should try to tame the vast lakes. ItÕs an undertaking that would require manipulating a natural system in which volumes of water are measured in tens of thousands of cubic kilometres.
To put the issue in perspective, it was only 25 years ago that shoreline residents were complaining about how low the water was, and photos of boathouses and docks perched high above dry sand were regular features in local newspapers.
Both extremes, in fact, are part of a natural cycle that makes lake levels fluctuate nearly a metre above or below their long-term averages. The variations occur in an irregular but inevitable pattern measured in years and determined mainly by the amount of precipitation in the 700,000-square-kilometre Great Lakes watershed. Fluctuating lake levels have long been a natural phenomenon. But once people began crowding around the lakes and using them to carry goods, generate power and dissipate wastes, these natural cycles came to be viewed as a serious problem. High levels inundate lakeside buildings and roads, occasionally killing people. They interfere with the operation of sewage treatment plants. They accelerate erosion of bluffs, threatening homes that have been built along the tops for the view. They increase the damage caused by storms.
During low cycles, water intakes and wharves are left high and dry, output is cut at hydroelectric generating stations, and ships must carry reduced loads to pass through the dredged channels of the St. Lawrence Seaway.
Discussions about controlling the fluctuations started in 1964, when the Canadian and U.S. governments requested a study by the International Joint Commission Ñ a body established in 1909 to encourage cooperative use and protection of the lakes. Various reports over the next 20 years (a period of very low levels) invariably recommended that humans move back from the water, out of harmÕs way, rather than attempting to control the lakes themselves.
However, as studies continued, Nature stepped into the debate. In 1970, the Great Lakes basin began receiving far more than its normal rainfall, while cooler-than-average weather reduced evaporation. By 1985, lakes Erie. Michigan and Huron were nearly a metre above their 100-year averages, and published photos showed people piling sandbags around their homes as water lapped against the foundations. Shoreline owners on both sides of the border formed groups demanding protection.
In 1986, as reports about the damage escalated, Canada and the United States directed the IJC lo review the issue once again. Although some short-term measures for alleviating the problem were announced this summer, the latest review wonÕt be completed until 1991. Moreover, the task is so complex that no solid conclusions may be reached even then.
It is clear that living with the lakes would be much easier if they never changed. But they do, and the IJC Ñ and the politicians who eventually deal with its report Ñ will have to decide whether the fluctuations can be moderated at a reasonable price and without calamitous side effects.
At the same time, there are alternatives to regulating the lakes. Human activities can be moved away from the shoreline for one thing, and barriers can be erected against high water for another. Even as the commission does its study, much of the lakesÕ 17,000-kilometre shoreline is being transformed as individuals and local governments introduce a variety of protective shields.
Some of the barricades are innocuous, like the metre-high earth berm that snakes along Riverside Drive, northeast of downtown Windsor to protect low-lying residential neighbourhoods if the Detroit River floods. Additional breakwaters along built-up shorelines of communities such as Fort Erie and Owen Sound, and tile drainage systems to carry water from clay bluffs, are barely noticeable.
But other projects, often built with financial help from provincial, state or federal governments, have turned long stretches of once-beautiful shoreline into what looks like a fortified battle zone. Many beaches are piled high with armour rock Ñ huge boulders that break the impact of waves. On others the shoreline is hidden behind walls of concrete or rusty steel. To make matters worse, valuable wetlands, where fish spawn and birds nest, have been filled in to stem the encroaching lakes.
For many lakeside residents, the image of battle is appropriate. They see themselves in combat with huge tracts of water that, if left to their own devices, will relentlessly attack, again and again. ÒItÕs better to have a war zone in front of you than a wave coming through your front window,Ó says Tim Barney, an engineer with the Essex Region Conservation Authority, which is responsible for flood control in the Windsor area.
Others, however, consider the fortifications a desecration, which would be unnecessary if only the lakes were controlled. Then, people would know where itÕs safe to build, says Sharon Hazen, chairman of a coalition of Canadian and U.S. organizations lobbying for a major regulation effort. ÒMost of them would be prepared to take their chances with the occasional bad storm instead of wrecking their shoreline with walls and boulders.Ó
What is involved in making the Great Lakes more subservient to human needs?
The lakes are like a series of giant tubs, linked by rivers and small lakes. The flow starts in Lake Superior Ñ by far the largest and deepest lake in the chain Ñ then passes through the St. MaryÕs River to lakes Huron and Michigan, which, because they are joined by the broad Straits of Mackinac, behave like one body of water. Huron is linked to Lake Erie by the St. Clair River, Lake St. Clair and the Detroit River. Water flows from Erie through the Niagara River to Lake Ontario and, finally, out the St. Lawrence River to the Atlantic Ocean.
Human activity at several places along the chain has already altered water levels, producing a confusing patchwork of effects:
┬┤ During World War II, certain rivers that flowed into Hudson Bay were redirected south into Lake Superior through the Long Lac and Ogoki diversions to boost hydroelectric generation. The extra water raises Huron-Michigan by about five to seven centimetres, and Erie by four or five centimetres.
´ Lake SuperiorÕs outlet is controlled by locks and dams on the St. MaryÕs River, which can alter the flow over the rapids at Sault Ste. Marie.
┬┤ At the southern tip of Lake Michigan, the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal diverts water from Huron-Michigan into the Mississippi drainage basin, reducing levels in Michigan by about six centimetres and Erie by about four or five centimetres.
┬┤ The St. Lawrence Seaway is designed to accommodate ships that draw up to nine metres, and channels have been dredged to that depth along the link between Huron and Erie. These channels enable the St. Clair and Detroit rivers to move more water, lowering the level of Huron-Michigan.
A number of these alterations in the upper lakes have increased the flow into Lake Erie; changes at its outlet, the Niagara River, have had the reverse effect. Indeed, some people contend that landfill projects, piers for the Peace and other bridges, as well as structures built at water intakes for hydroelectric turbines have cut NiagaraÕs flow by as much as 40 percent since the early 1900s. The Welland Canal, which allows ships to bypass Niagara Falls, drains some water from Erie, but this does little to compensate for the riverÕs reduced capacity.
In addition, according to the property owners, the NiagaraÕs flow is being controlled by dams built near Grass Island to store water for hydroelectric generating stations along the river. Lake OntarioÕs outlet into the St. Lawrence is also controlled by a dam at Iroquois, intended to reduce fluctuations, ensure safe conditions for shipping and inhibit flooding along the river.
When lake levels were at their peak, worried shoreline residents said their problem could be eased if the diversions into Lake Superior were shut off and the other controls opened to allow maximum flows from the lakes. But that is not as simple as it sounds. The reasons are given in a report by the IJC which, before it began the bigger task of studying whether fluctuations can be controlled, reviewed how effectively and quickly existing devices could reduce a high-water crisis.
Shutting the Long Lac and Ogoki diversions would cause flooding in the Hudson Bay watershed, affect the supply of logs floated to a pulp and paper mill at Terrace Bay on SuperiorÕs north shore, and reduce electric power generation.
The controls on the St. MaryÕs River could, in theory, cause Lake Superior to rise 30 centimetres. But that, the report notes, would cause severe flooding along a shoreline that, despite being generally considered wilderness, is developed for 30 percent of its length.
The Chicago diversion could carry more than three times its current flow. At that rate, the level of Huron-Michigan would go down six centimetres and Erie would drop by nearIy four. However, the U.S. Supreme Court decreed (originally in 1950 and, most recently, in 1967) that the outflow must not be increased, a ruling not likely to be challenged because intense international political controversy surrounds any proposal to divert more water from the Great Lakes. This was clearly demonstrated as recently as July when the low level of the Mississippi River raised new cries for Great Lakes water to be directed into the river system. A plan toward that end was abandoned.
At Niagara, flows through the Welland Canal could be increased, but that would interfere with shipping and damage canal structures. The controls at Grass Island could be opened to let more water through, lowering Lake Erie by about four centimetres, but that would interfere with the power-generating stations.
There are similar constraints on manipulating Lake OntarioÕs outflow. Restricting it too much would cause flooding around the lake. Opening the gates would swamp farmland and communities along the St. Lawrence, lower shipping channels in the lake to dangerous levels, and boost currents beyond safe rates in narrow St. Lawrence Seaway passages downstream.
Individuals arguing for managed water levels claim the problem is that in two of the five lakes Ñ Superior and Ontario Ñ the extremes are now controlled. The obvious solution, they say, is to manage the rest of the lakes too.
The idea isnÕt new. In 1972, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers devised a scheme to regulate Lake ErieÕs outflow, and it is still supported by the international coalition of shoreline residents. The project Ñ named 25N and with a cost now estimated at $500 million Ñ involves blasting away a shell of rock, about 1,200 metres long and 270 metres wide, at the head of the Niagara River to compensate for man-made stuctures that restrict the flow. Underwater control gates would then be built on the river bed across half the riverÕs width to hold water in Lake Erie when levels are low. The 25N plan could probably lower the level of Lake Erie by some 30 centimetres, and it is just one of several the IJC is considering.
Another proposal, dubbed 5ON, is even more ambitious, and possibly twice as expensive. It calls for more blasting and dredging but could extend the control gates right across the river. While it would also reduce high-water peaks, it goes further. The wider dam, when closed, could slow NiagaraÕs flow enough actually to raise Lake Erie when levels are abnormally low.
Either project would alter the flow of water through Lake Ontario, and that means additional dredging and controls would likely be needed along the upper St. Lawrence River. More controls would also be required at Lake HuronÕs outlet.
Are 25N, 5ON or other projects like them worth the tremendous expense? There is no doubt they would have some effect. If 50N worked as predicted, it would cut Lake ErieÕs fluctuations by about 40 percent. There would be less flooding, and the frequent storms that lash the lakes would cause less damage. Controls cannot entirely eliminate the natural fluctuations, however, and that leads some to wonder if the benefits are worth the costs.
Lower levels would make a difference during storms like the one in December 1985, says Doug Cuthbert, a member of the IJCÕs study team and chief of Environment CanadaÕs Water Planning and Management Branch at the Canada Centre for Inland Waters in Burlington, Ont. There would be less damage, he says. The question is, how much less? So far, no one knows.
Officials with the Ontario government and the environmental watchdog coalition, Great Lakes United, point out that during the 1985 seiche, the effect on Lake Erie was nearly five metres Ñ the difference between the highest and lowest levels as the water first piled up in the west end of the lake, then sloshed back to the east. Since even project 50N would subtract less than a metre from extreme high levels, it would not be much help in the kind of savage gale that forced Ron and Evelyn Wills to give up their home. ÒYou can no more stop a seiche storm on Lake Erie than you can stop a hurricane coming up the Atlantic coast,Ó says David Miller, coordinator of Great Lakes United.
Another problem is timing. It would take a couple of years to build major controls. Then, because the amount of water involved is so great, their effectiveness would not be felt for another year or two.
Three or four years is obviously too long a wait to cope with a high-water emergency, so the question becomes whether to install controlling devices now, at great expense, just in case a problem arises later.
For Ontario, the only province bordering the lakes, the answer appears to be no. It is relying on shoreline management, a catch-all phrase that includes construction of protective works, restrictions on new building in the lakesÕ floodplain and, possibly, relocation of people now living too close to the water. (The U.S. Congress this year approved spending $100 million to relocate some property owners along the American shore.)
Those approaches are supported by Great Lakes United, which is among those arguing that altering the flow in a couple of rivers is neither as simple nor as benign as it sounds. Dynamiting the floor of the Niagara River, for example, could increase the spread of sediments contaminated with a frightening mix of toxic chemicals from industries and leaking dump sites that line the river. Reducing the fluctuations, moreover, might produce unwelcome side effects. The cycle of high and low levels sustains marshes and shallows that serve as wildlife breeding and nesting grounds.
ÒIf you had enough money and engineers, you could build almost anything Ñ you could turn the lakes into bathtubs,Ó Miller says. ÒIs that what we want? Do we want the St. Clair River looking like a parking lot, surrounded by concrete? Or do we want the Great Lakes to be the Great Lakes?Ó
That doesnÕt convince people like Ron Wills, who plans to keep fighting for controls, even though he no longer lives in Lake ErieÕs line of fire. Every time the wind comes up, he remembers the storm of 1985 and wonders whose home is being threatened. ÒI worry now for other people. I know what theyÕre going through.Ó
