Surviving the Great Ice Storm of 2025 — Part 2

Some people are still living their nightmare five full days later.

Icy garden (photo by author)

Monday

In the middle of the night, HydroOne texted an update on the restoration of the power. 11pm Monday.

The rest of the night was “unsettled”, let’s say.

By morning, the house was sitting at 13C. I wanted to stay in bed. I couldn’t.

Outside, the temperature was already creeping up through the single digits. The ice was already gone from the balcony glass, but the icicles remained.

We boiled another pan of water on the barbecue for our morning joe. It didn’t quite hit the spot, but it gave us a little bit of a nudge to action. That, and the toasted naan.

Even though the pipes weren’t about to freeze, it was too cold. We had to do something. We had to act. We needed to open one of our chimneys and get some heat into the house.

So, we cleared more than 5 years of accumulated entropy from around the propane fireplace in the living room. The propane tanks were still more than half full, and a warm living room would give us the best (and most direct) emotional boost.

HydroOne texted to say that the outage was now fixed, and if we were still without power to reply OUT.

We replied OUT.

My parents texted. They were shocked we were still without power. My aunt and uncle in a nearby village had theirs restored Sunday night. But we didn’t have the luxury of chatting, or music, or old videos. No entertainments. All the batteries were precipitously low.

I went outside to investigate the back deck. Why? If we were going to get on the roof, it would have to be from the deck. And the wooden boards were still thick in ice. The snow shovel (even the one with the metal edge) made no dent in it. I didn’t want to break the deck, either, especially as the propane line passes beneath it. I only had one option open to me. A trowel. I got on my hands and knees, and used the trowel to pry up the ice build-up, section by section. And this was only possible at all because the ice was starting to rot. It was maybe +5C by this point.

Half an hour and one bloodied hand later (ice is sharp) I had the deck clear and the ladder up.

We went up. We tried to stay off the roof, but the chimney was just too far away, just out of reach. We have a branch cutter which is a set of shears on the end of a pole. We managed to cut the bungee cords keeping the fabric in place.

The fabric was initially put there to dampen the near-constant drone and buffet of winter winds. And it wouldn’t come off. We had to really actually physically go up.

The ice up there was more rotten (metal roof) and easier to clear aside.

And then it was done. The chimney was clear. The ladder went away. We went inside, although I had to see to the chickens first. My overnight defenses were still working and were no longer needed. The ice should not be back, and neither should the freezing rain.

We paused for breakfast.

A little bit of good news was that we remembered the electric engine booster. Fully charged, it’s like a power bank. We could charge the phone on it, and other things if we needed to. It felt like a ray of light in the darkness and chill.

We sat in the living room, listening to the drone of nextdoor’s generator being funnelled down the chimney. We’d forgotten what an excellent sound funnel the chimney really was.

There was no putting off the need to try to light the propane fireplace.

We had used it a couple of times the first year or so we were in the house. Not since. It was going to be a voyage of discovery. Press this, wait a minute, do that, try again. And cross your fingers.

We reached for the button.

And the power came on.

Our eyes lit up. We cheered. Our priorities immediately changed.

Water

Power means the water pump will work again. But not until you make the system realize it is functional again. Beside the pressure tank in the basement there is a small grey box and a silver-metallic lever on one side. I raised the lever slightly. Nothing happened. I did it again, slightly more. Still nothing. This was what I was afraid of. Any time we’ve had an extended power cut, we’ve lost a bit of pressure from the pressure tank, and I’ve worried that there will come a day when the system just gives out.

But the third time’s the charm. The water gushed back into the pressure tank, and reached the same levels as before the outage.

We could flush toilets!

We could wash our hands!

We could wash the dishes!

Oh joy! Oh relief!

Aftermath

The rest of the day was spent on cleanup. One day of unglamorous camping in the house, and it took all day to get things back in order.

I went in to see the chickens properly, and collected so many eggs, all filthy, from one day of neglect.

And we all were able to have a shower.

The hot water tank held up well. There was fairly hot water right from the moment the pressure tank was back in action.

And we’ll take these small items of good news when we can get them.

By the afternoon, even the icicles had gone. The driveway was clear, completely clear, not even any piles of slush. All melted, all gone, as if there had never been even a hint of an ice storm.

Already like a bad dream pushed away by the sunrise.

Tuesday

The neighbour’s generator was off, but now they had a broken tree to fell. With a chainsaw. The noise reverberated through the house, even at the other end of the house in the living room, far away from the neighbours but next to the newly-opened chimney.

It was the push we needed.

We had to venture out for chicken feed. With another bout of freezing rain in the forecast, we weren’t about to take any chances. Not this time.

The feed store was the busiest I’ve ever seen it in the 8 years we’ve had chickens.

There and back, so many HydroOne crews were clearing trees from the road, putting up new poles, or cutting back branches that might pose a threat soon. In some places the roads were closed with downed power lines still blocking the way. Not the main roads, but we’d taken a slightly scenic route, for mental health reasons.

Wednesday

Finished with the chainsaw, our neighbours decided it was time to mow. Their second mow of the season, which is just incredible to me. My grass is not yet green, and my lawn is open to more light and sun than theirs. I’m hoping my first mow is still weeks away.

The sound echoed through the house, despite the winter-sealed windows, because of the chimney.

Thursday

The second storm had been forecasted for Thursday, but by morning it had melted. A complete non-event. Which is what most freezing rain warnings end up being. Back to normal.

Except for the wicked wind. The morning was cool and wet, the afternoon bright and blustery. The maple buckets kept flying, forcing me to take them down. Not the spiles. There’s still potentially decent weather coming next week.

Batch 3 made only 350 ml. A bowl’s worth. But it will last us several breakfasts. It’s good, but not as good as Batch 2 was.

Friday

A few days of relative normalcy. The ordeal is over for us. Back to the daily grind.

But for 140,000 households across Ontario, many of them near Peterborough and Orillia, power is still out.

Think about that. Ice storm. Wind storm. Long outage. Hampered repair efforts. Gas stations running out of gas. Huge lineups everywhere. Warming centers, because yes, it is still cold enough for them in April.

I barely survived 28 hours without power. I can barely comprehend 6 full days without it. It really does feel like it would be the end of the world, the end of civilization, the end of sanity.

Some people are still living their nightmare five full days later.

If you missed it, Part 1 of this tale of survival and adversity is here!

Thanks for reading!