A few cedars, a large crabapple tree, that's all that's left of Louise David's visit to 2 Rue René in Gatineau. Gone is the corner of floral paradise she created in her backyard. Demolished, the pretty white house decorated with a black door. Demolished like almost all the houses on his street and dozens of others in Pointe-Gatineau, one of the oldest districts of the Outaouais capital.
Posted at 5:00 am.
“It was the climate that drove me out of my neighborhood. I wanted to live there until I moved to a retirement home. “At 73, it’s hard to start over again,” sighs Ms. David, who now describes herself as a climate refugee.
When the gray waters of the Gatineau River flooded the area in the spring of 2017, nothing like it had been seen since the mid-1970s.
“We all told ourselves that every 40 years we could live with it, clean it up and start over. But two years later it was even worse! »
In 2019, Ms. David had to leave her home for around sixty days, three times longer than in 2017.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Louise David in front of the property where her pretty house once stood, behind which she had created a wonderful garden, Rue René, in Pointe-Gatineau.
You are devastated, a refugee. You have to report to the Red Cross every two days. Three times I had to sleep in a deck chair at my mother's house because there was no space.
Louise David, 73 years old
For the second time in two years, everything in her basement had to be ripped out and decontaminated.
“Have you ever touched a wall that has spent 62 days in river water? It's sticky and smells like fish! Yuck! »
PHOTO PROVIDED BY LOUISE DAVID
Louise David's house at 2 rue René in Pointe-Gatineau
Ms. David, a former “well-organized” project manager, still found the Quebec-managed compensation process “damn stressful.”
“Nobody in the government takes responsibility!” They don’t decide anything and ask everyone whether it’s right,” complains the dynamic pensioner.
Undeveloped land
The pandemic has made us somewhat forget the trauma of the 2017 and 2019 floods in southern Quebec. However, in Pointe-Gatineau it is impossible to forget.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Property on Saint-Louis Street that was given to the city and was converted into a park by the residents.
In the sectors of Gatineau targeted by Quebec's Ministry of Public Security (MSP) compensation programs, approximately 200 properties have been erased from the landscape since 2017 – half of which are in the Pointe-Gatineau district. The land ceded to the city remains empty and exposed to the icy January winds.
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However, Philippe Gagnon is determined to stay on Rue Jacques-Cartier, from where he has a breathtaking view of the river. He rebuilt his house, put a membrane on the foundation and installed pumps. When the neighborhood flooded again last spring, the system held up.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
One of the many properties in Pointe-Gatineau was ceded to the city due to repeated flooding
As for the vacant land behind his property, “he decided to take advantage of the situation a little.” There he plants trees, works in the garden and plays football and Frisbee with his two sons.
He is also involved in residents' associations that carry out projects to improve the properties ceded to the municipality. The city has also adopted an ambitious action plan that runs until 2027. “But it doesn’t happen quickly. Let's say the procedures are lengthy and the conditions are numerous. »
PHOTO ÉTIENNE RANGER, LE DROIGHT ARCHIVE
Philippe Gagnon had to increase the number of complaints to clean up the site of this former grocery store, which in 2022 turned into an illegal dump in his Pointe-Gatineau neighborhood.
From the back of his house he has a breathtaking view of… the ruins of a former supermarket. As the construction site became a wild dump, he had to call the city more frequently. The site has been cleaned but the fence was recently removed. “It’s like an invitation to resume dumping,” he said worriedly.
“After”
“People think that the floods cause the most stress, but it is the consequences,” emphasizes researcher Ariane Hamel. As part of her master's degree in social work at the Université du Québec en Outaouais (UQO), she interviewed around ten residents and former residents of Pointe-Gatineau.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Ariane Hamel, social work researcher at the University of Quebec en Outaouais (UQO)
She heard them talk about post-traumatic stress, health problems and financial difficulties, but also about adaptation, solidarity and connection to the neighborhood. However, one constant stands out: “Everyone told me they needed people to help fill out the paperwork. »
In this old neighborhood, home to socio-economically disadvantaged and elderly populations, he was told of “people who do not have computers, the Internet, or a sufficient level of literacy to understand the language used in official documents.” and who “You don’t benefit from the programs because they are too complicated (see box)”.
“There is a human drama behind every door,” says Myriam Nadeau, who was a Pointe-Gatineau councilor from 2013 to 2021.
“In 2017, people were desperate to save their homes rather than have them demolished. And in 2019 it was: “How do you help me leave?” or “What they are offering us doesn't make sense, I can't leave at this price!” »
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Myriam Nadeau, former Pointe-Gatineau district councilwoman and still a resident of the neighborhood, where she remains active.
At the time of the 2017 flood, her second daughter was less than two years old. “I put in endless hours, I felt guilty when I rested, it was extremely tiring. » She understood that an elected official must save energy for “the really difficult job” where they can make a difference, which is “supporting people, the burden of follow-up, the questions.”
She did not run again in 2021, but still lives in Pointe-Gatineau, where she is involved in a residents' association.
“No one can run for office and think that they don’t have to deal with a climate issue,” she warns. “You can just say, 'When is this going to happen to me?' And if I'm not, then in my city or in my province. It is clear that this will impact the work of all elected officials at some point. »
The Outaouais laboratory
“Once the water is gone, people stay. In Quebec, we have not developed a lot of expertise on how to support people in their recovery,” points out Nathalie St-Amour, professor in the Department of Social Work at UQO and principal investigator at the InterSectoral Flood Network of Quebec (RIISQ).
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
The Gatineau River near the Quai des Artistes in Pointe-Gatineau
She is interested in “environmental injustice” and researches the differences in recovery between a socioeconomically disadvantaged neighborhood (like Pointe-Gatineau, where her student Ariane Hamel works) and a more advantaged sector.
A pilot project is also being developed to make Outaouais the first hub or regional branch of the RIISQ. “The aim is to strongly integrate research according to the needs of stakeholders in the area,” including cities and the health network.
PHOTO FRANÇOIS ROY, THE PRESS
Another of the many lands in Pointe-Gatineau that were ceded to the city
With its recurring floods and its “Gruyère cheese” neighborhoods, the Outaouais has become fertile ground for documenting the impact on residents.
Ms. St-Amour gives the example of a research participant who, after repeated flooding, only puts garden furniture in her living room. “Is it a resilience and coping strategy or a way to control anxiety? », emphasizes the researcher.
Read tomorrow: When the forest threatens to burn down your city