Rushing water

Yesterday morning I caught a glimpse of the Hog's Back Falls as a friend drove me past it on the Colonel By Drive: a magnificent sight, the water rushing in full spate over the falls and drowning the islands in the stretch of river below, so that the bottoms of all their tree trunks are submerged.

Yesterday evening I saw the Rideau Falls in a similar state, the churned up river water the colour of dark ale as it surges over the lip of the falls. The hydroelectric station there is having some major alterations done, it seems, and the park's being re-landscaped, much of the area presently sealed off.

Construction work on the Minto Bridges, on the other hand, has now come to a halt, with renovations of the western most bridge apparently complete and the metalwork repainted, so the bridges are finally accessible to traffic and pedestrians again, only (!) 4 months behind schedule. Presumably they'll start work on the other two bridges later on.

The silvery falls

We hadn't been to the Rideau Falls for a while but walked there with friends after supper last Friday. The falls seen from the side had a beautiful silvery sheen to them in the evening light. A solitary duck standing on the lip looked as if it might get washed over at any moment, but the flow is relatively gentle at this time of year; I think it liked the view from there. A sunset cruise boat approached slowly to the nearest point it could reach at the bottom of the falls. Why do the boat companies feel obliged to broadcast loud music on their cruises, ruining the peace of the evening? I don't understand it, and nor do I understand why the NCC and other interested parties (that should read "uninterested," probably) have still done nothing about restoring the viewing platform at the falls and the derelict building there that used to house the Canada and the World Pavilion? A runner came by, found he couldn't get through the fences blocking off the terrace, and had to turn round and run back the way he'd come.

A national disgrace

Entrance to the disused Pavilion

This building, opened in 2001, has been closed since 2005, abandoned; for those four years it housed a "permanent" Canada and the World exhibition which, according to the pundits, nobody wanted to visit. On the contrary, in my case. I used to go there regularly, bringing my guests from overseas. It doubled as a venue for diplomatic receptions, etc. I went to a couple of those too, and very pleasant it was, to spend time in the light, airy upstairs room or on its balcony overlooking the adjacent Rideau Falls, the Ottawa River and the Gatineau Hills beyond. You could spend a relaxing hour watching the boats and the sunset from that balcony, a glass of champagne in your hand.

 The Pavilion in profile, showing its viewing balcony

These days, the building is already falling into a state of dilapidation, with rusty pillars and the danger of "toxic mould" forming on its damp inner surfaces.

After World War II, the land on which it stands was acquired by Public Works and Government Services Canada and, more recently, leased to the National Capital Commission.

50 Sussex Drive is one of the most under-utilised prime sites in the capital, a ridiculous waste of space. In 2007 it was considered as a potential  Embassy or High Commission, but this option would limit public access to the lookout over the river (coach loads of tourists regularly wanting to stop and see the Falls) or to the pleasant gardens round about. A monument to Canadian foreign aid workers who have perished in the course of their work is a few paces away, and it wouldn't be right to prevent people from seeing that. There's an outdoor display of ceramic tiles here as well, a reminder of the "cultural and artistic treasures of the Ottoman Empire"—a gift from the Iznik Foundation and the Turkish Embassy.

The pavilion, when it closed, also became a possible new location for the Ottawa Art Gallery, presently on Daly Avenue, but that idea came to nothing as well, perhaps because of the above-mentioned mould problem.

Before the newer pavilion was erected, a one storey, stone structure housed the Canada and the World collection. As new immigrants, we found it an interesting but strikingly small-scale affair, with a snack bar and washrooms at the back, only accessible from the outdoor patio.

The Virtual Tourist website published a comment in April 2003 that throws some light on why the showcase was a failure:

"I thought this museum was a pat-yourself-on-the-back place to re-enforce what people already knew. Mentally, I place the Canada and World Pavillion somewhere in between "kinda/maybe" interesting and an example of the dreaded Canadian inferiority complex [...]  If you really do want to see all the pictures of famous Canadians, see Canadian inventions, Canadian sports, Canadian technology, Canadian footballs, Canadian...ummm...trade relations with EU and U.S., then please come. But if you're not Canadian like myself, you might be bored out of your mind." 

I too remember thinking in the early days of living here: these Canadians are too diffident by far. Visitors were encouraged to make suggestions for the additional display of exemplary Canadian names in the Millenium Year and I filled out a card suggesting Richard Margison, the opera singer (my mother's cousin's son).

If I had a say in the matter, I'd propose that the location become the site of Canada's presently non-existant National Portrait Gallery. I'm sure something could be done to stop the damp seeping in, if the political will were there. The fact that we don't have such an attraction / historical record in our capital city (as does Australia, in Canberra, for example) is another national disgrace.