Laurie Mustard / Winnipeg Free Press
Railroad bridges such as this one were built to swivel open, allowing river traffic to pass.
Laurie Mustard / Winnipeg Free Press
A close-up photo of the swivel device used to open up railroad bridges, allowing river traffic to pass through unimpeded.
Fall. So many people just love fall. And I can understand why. No mosquitoes, the temperatures are cooler and often very pleasant... and the leaves change colour — it’s so beautiful.
Those are some of the things I imagine people love about fall. And I have to imagine, because second to winter, fall is my least favorite season.
I may have been programmed a bit to feel like this, because each fall through my childhood I remember my dad, Joe Mustard, getting a dark look on his face and saying, "I don’t like fall, everything’s dying."
Made sense to me. Everything I loved to do was a spring/summer or early fall thing. I still feel that way. Not that I’m complaining. Nope. I’d put this more in the whining category.
Winter? Gag.
Sure, when I was younger I enjoyed tobogganing with the other kids once in a while, and — well, that’s pretty much it. When I was an adult, I got into snowmobiling for a while and that was fun till that "been there, done that" feeling came along. Now, I’m getting back into it some because of the grandkids.
I consider it a bonus that there are no mosquitoes.
Earlier this week, I decided that maybe what I needed to do with this frown-on-fall attitude is open my mind a bit and "embrace" this wonderfully colourful season — when everything’s dying — and so I headed for my friend Trish’s apartment to take some pretty pictures of the leaves changing colour along the Assiniboine River.
I’m glad I did, because as soon as I saw the river, it completely took my mind off fall and winter, triggering recollections from Ted Barris’ fabulous book Fire Canoe: Prairie Steamboat Days Revisited. Immediately, I was transported back to the late 1800s, watching the endless stream of paddlewheelers heading up the Assiniboine on their way to deliver cargo and people all along the river into Saskatchewan.
And the paddlewheelers and other river craft that, via the Red River through Lake Winnipeg, travelled as far as Alberta. All in spring and early summer, of course, when the water was high enough to allow riverboat traffic. Here’s a taste from Ted’s excellent book:
"A dry season in 1876 limited steamboat traffic to small boats on rainy days, but the following year brought with it the promise of better conditions. News from up the Assiniboine River smashed the lull early in the spring of 1877. Pushing one hundred and twenty tons on three flat barges laden with general merchandise and telegraph wire, the sidewheeling Prince Rupert had struggled for three weeks to reach Pratt’s landing, south of Portage La Prairie."
That trip had broken into the Assiniboine trade. "Several days later the steamer returned to Winnipeg towing 2,000 bushels of wheat, 1,250 sacks of flour, and 2,000 bushels of oats. It was only the beginning."
I was first introduced to Fire Canoe by legendary Winnipeg journalist Eric Wells, and it’s a book every Winnipegger and prairie person should read, because it’s fascinating.
I’m reminded of those riverboat days every time I pass the railroad bridge here in Headingley, which was built to swivel open, allowing river traffic to pass through. Don’t know when it was built, or if it was ever opened to allow a paddlewheeler to pass, but someday I’ll look into it.
I would love to know what’s down in the mud in the Assiniboine and Red rivers, having fallen or perhaps been thrown off those countless craft. Without a doubt, a few skeletons must be down there.
Where was I? Oh yeah — fall. Well, the leaves were pretty, but falling off, confirming my Dad’s observation about this time of year. "Everything’s dying."
How long till spring?
lmustard1948@gmail.com
