The Saga of Hydro-Québec ✊🏻⚡️⚜️

In the 1970s, the French Canadians bulldozed a few Inuit tribes off huge swathes of sub-Arctic land in order to make way for what was the largest hydroelectric project in the world at the time. This was the James Bay project, located 600 miles north of Montreal.  Construction ensued several phases over 20 years, but when it was all said and done, the series of dams created a power capacity of 15 Gigawatts, which is the equivalent of 13 Seabrook nuclear reactors. All of this for a province with the population of 9 million, only slightly larger than Massachusetts. Rate payers in Quebec pay $0.05 USD/kWh while rate payers in New Hampshire pay a staggering $0.25 USD/kWh. Yes, Quebec’s electric bills are one-fifth of ours. Quebec quickly became the Saudi Arabia of electricity in North America.

⚡️Hydroelectricity and Quebec Nationalism

The plot gets thicker. Hydroelectricity and Quebec nationalism are heavily intertwined. A left-wing provincial government was elected in the early 1960s and a man by the name of Réné Lévesque lead the charge to nationalize the power companies across the province.  The private electric companies were largely under anglophone management and the left-wing French population saw this as their chance to drive a wedge in English rule.  The corporate elite in Quebec up until the 1980s were primarily English speaking. There had always been a French majority in the entire province since colonial times, but the English created many settlements after the French defeat on the Plains of Abraham in 1759 and the French-Québecois (pronounced: “ke-BEK-wa”) correspondingly have had a victim complex ever since. There were whole regions with English majorities in Quebec up until the 1980s, including the Eastern Townships around Magog, near the Vermont and New Hampshire borders with Quebec. The province increasingly instituted policies to encourage the English Canadians to move out. 

Lévesque’s campaign was steeped in nationalist rhetoric. Slogans like “Maintenant ou jamais: maîtres chez nous” (“Now or never: masters of our own house”) adorned posters featuring fists clutching bolts of lightning. This channeled communist revolutionary symbolism also employed by the labor movement and Black Lives Matter. The campaign was a success, the public took the bait to nationalize the electric companies, and the Quebec separatist movement was launched into hyperspace.  The province consolidated the nationalized electric companies in 1963 under a province-owned corporation named Hydro-Québec (French pronunciation: “EE-dro KE-bek”). Lévesque later became Premier of Quebec in the late 70s. Premier is the Canadian equivalent of an American governor.  The name Réne Levesque is now immortalized on many buildings and street signs throughout the Belle Province.

⚡️The James Bay Project and Quebec-anomics  

Robert Bourassa is another character in this plot line and he was also a Quebec nationalist.  Bourassa was Premier in the 70s when policy makers considered nuclear for a hot second, but he gave the James Bay hydroelectric plan the green light. They even named a dam after the guy.

Hydro-Quebec is a crown corporation, which is a common scheme in Canada and European countries.  The entity itself operates quasi-privately, but the government owns the shares to the corporation. Hydro-Quebec is also a cartel and Quebec is no stranger to cartels as—among many other price controls—they have a maple syrup cartel, no joke. The equivalent of the public utility board in Quebec works in cahoots with Hydro-Quebec to have tight price controls to ensure that electric rates domestically within the province are very low but all subsidized by market pricing for everyone else, including New Englanders and fellow Canadians.  It’s surprising the rest of Canada allows Quebec to get away with this.  Americans likely wouldn’t tolerate it. Yes, Alaska gives dividend payments to its citizens, but it’s three times smaller than the collective benefit Quebec residents receive from selling excess electricity, not even taking into account that electric rates in Quebec are extraordinarily low to begin with.

Electricity is so cheap in Quebec that most people heat their homes with electricity. Also keep in mind that, after taxes, gasoline costs $5 USD/gallon here. 

Where things get very sticky: the large profits from Hydro-Quebec get funneled into government coffers so that they can prop up their social programs, which were quite large by Canadian standards, and especially American standards, even before the James Bay project went online. So anyone starting to think that nationalization was a good idea, think again.  Hydro-Québec is the cheap food that feeds their monster of a welfare state. So yes, they have really cheap electricity, but they don’t have vibrant free-enterprise to use it on. It’s a difficult jurisdiction to do serious business in. The Québecois have enriched themselves only to further enslave themselves.  Even minuscule market liberalization would do wonders for Quebec since they are already sitting on top of an electric goldmine. New Hampshire has the inverse situation. Any right-of-center economist would go nuts pointing out the flaws with Quebec’s economic model.

⚡️ The Quebec–New England Connection

Where this ties back to New Hampshire is the the Quebec–New England Transmission system.  After partially waving the white flag on Seabrook, leadership in NH and MA looked to their French-speaking cousins to the north for more energy.  At Faneuil Hall in Boston in 1983 with Premier Réné Levesque present, a deal was signed to build a 900-mile high-voltage direct-current transmission line from the NH/MA border near Nashua, in Ayer, to the Quebec sub-Arctic, next to the James Bay project.  The system went online in 1990 and provides about two Seabrooks worth of power to the New England grid. 

About 15 years ago, leaders wanted to add a second set of cables to Hydro-Quebec dubbed “Northern Pass”.  This project would have added 1.1 MW of power or about 1 Seabrook to the grid.  This was at the height of the Obama/Gore green-energy craze and environmentalists built a case against this project, even though many would consider hydro-power to be clean energy. The bigger issue ended up being eminent domain.  Many affected property owners weren’t thrilled and honestly I don’t blame them.  Northern Pass was officially dead. 

Other than a few minor natural gas pipeline proposals, there hasn’t been a large-scale attempt to expand New Hampshire’s energy supply since. The quest to solve New Hampshire’s energy question continues. 

⚡️ Further listening

This article was loosely inspired by NHPR’s 4-part miniseries called Powerline on the show Outside/In.  It provides a detailed history of Hydro-Quebec and the Quebec nationalist movement, not without typical NPR bias, but it’s still well worth a listen.

Total eclipse of the heart

Total Eclipse on Back Lake

Totality was an experience like none other.  At the beginning of the month, I rented a cabin with friends at Tall Timber Lodge in Pittsburg, NH, at the tippy top of the state, where New Hampshire, Quebec, and Maine all meet.  We spent the weekend driving around Northern NH and the Eastern Townships of Quebec (Estrie), which I will describe more after I talk about the eclipse.

In the late morning of the eclipse, people began assembling outside by Back Lake, the small lake next to Tall Timber.  The property faces the lake to the South, so we had an excellent front row seat to the eclipse.  Multiple amateur astronomers had telescopes with solar filters set up.  The head of the NH Astronomical Society was also there and was happily talking away about eclipses.

At around 14:30, the partial eclipse started, which was about an hour before totality.  We put our eclipse glasses on and began to see the sun get chomped away bit-by-bit by the moon.  We posed for some photos with the glasses, because of course if there wasn’t a picture, did it really happen?

About 30 min prior to totality, the light started to get noticeably flat, the air got cooler, and I put my jacket back on.  T-minus 20 minutes is when things started to get noticeably eerie.  The light got even flatter and even dimmer.  It was as if I was wearing yellow filtered glasses.  The shadows got very strange. A friend brought a cheese grater and you could even see crescent-shaped shadows from the holes of the grater rather than something more circular. Wild! The energy and build-up at this point was thru the roof. My heart was beating fast at this point.

Then it happened.  Within 20 seconds, the light switch was turned out, the sun disappeared behind the shadow of the moon, and the corona haze of the sun dazzled around the outline of the moon.  As an added treat, there was even a red speck visible with the naked eye, which I was later told was a solar flare. 

The shadow bands were arguably the wildest effect.  If you have a white sheet or a white background on the ground you can make out wild wavy rapidly moving shadows from the sun’s corona.  This is extremely difficult to capture with a camera. The added bonus was that we were standing directly next to frozen lake, so the entire lake started to shimmer with shadow bands.  Incredible! I’ll never forget it.

I won’t forget the drive too. It took 10 hours to drive about 160 miles, including a two hour stop. Oh well. The eclipse was still worth it.

Hefeweizen at Schilling Brewery

The weekend leading up to the eclipse on that Monday was a fun time too. We stopped at Schilling Brewery in Littleton, which is perched next to the Ammonoosuc River in downtown Littleton, which is getting nicer every year. The brewery proudly does not serve any IPAs, but rather an excellent selection of German and European style beers. Good smash burgers too. Poutine was also on the menu, which was foreshadowing our venture into Québec.

Littleton is still only two-thirds the way up NH, it was still another hour plus drive through Coös County to our destination. The road meanders next to the Connecticut River up to Colebrook and then abruptly ascends further into the wilderness next to a small mountain stream. For the next 15 miles: no cell phone reception, no houses, just trees and French Canadian radio stations.

After bushwhacking 15 miles, we arrived in the town center of Pittsburg. Don’t blink or else you’ll miss it, as I once heard someone joke. Pittsburg is an outpost town and the result of a survey dispute.  For many years, in the 1800s the town declared itself to be its own independent county, the Indian Stream Republic, before formally deciding to join New Hampshire.

Pittsburgh Center

Tall Timber Lodge is located on Back Lake, a couple miles outside the center of town. In season, which is Summer and Winter, they have a restaurant and cabins for rent. Early spring is their down season, so we were on our own for food. I’m told Tall Timber is a big destination for snowmobilers.

On Sunday, we drove across the border to Magog, Québec, which is a bit more cosmopolitan than the region on other side of the border. We loaded up on artisan cheese, espresso, and croissants. We also stopped at Bleu Lavande and Abbaye de Saint-Benoît-du-Lac, a beautiful modern cathedral nested above Lake Memphrémagog. The monks at the abby famously produce cheese and cider.

Abbaye de Saint-Benoît-du-Lac

For dinner, we ate at the micro-brasserie la Memphré in downtown Magog. The appetizers included bread and a warm compote of cheese and caramelized onions. Delicious. I rounded out the meal with a glass of wine and more bread and fondue made with cheese from the abby. Bread and cheese are my comfort foods.

Oh Magog

Afterwards, we made our way back into the woods of Pittsburg and prepared for the eclipse day ahead. Great weekend!