About a dozen people, including myself, are sitting out at the end of Pither’s Point behind the Hallett, waiting for night to fall.
It’s dark, but not dark enough for our purposes.
From where we stand, we can see the cars lined up on Front Street, and people crowded on docks along the south shore line.
Both sides of the river are crowded with people who benefit from the show. Even on the river itself, people await the spectacle, kept at a safe distance by OPP boats.
The sky is clear, and the wind has calmed considerably from this afternoon.
Charlie Turgeon, the man in charge here, is glad the wind has died down. That’s one less risk factor in what is already a somewhat risky undertaking.
The fire truck arrives at 9:50 p.m. and the firefighters set up one live charge, just in case.
The excitement is growing among the people assembled at the Point, and even the fireflies seem to be goading us on.
Someone on the U.S. side of the river sets off a couple small firecrackers, either to taunt or encourage us.
“You think we can do better than that, Melanie?” Turgeon asks me.
I have no doubt.
Finally, at about 10:15 p.m., it’s dark enough, and the show can begin.
I am granted the honour of hitting the little red button that starts the chain reaction.
A split second later, there is the sound of rockets launching, and explosions, and bright flashing lights in the sky.
The sound is nearly deafening, and the shells seem to explode right over our heads.
In fact, after one explosion, sparks land in the grass all around us, including one that comes very close to the control panel where Turgeon is standing. But he is unconcerned, and the sparks quickly burn out.
After almost 18 minutes, the show is over. After that, the sound of applause comes from both sides of the river.
And then, people start to head home.
This is the part of Fort Frances’ Canada Day fireworks that people are most familiar with: the crowds along the waterfront, the anticipation, the visual extravaganza, and the slow trip home.
What people don’t see is the time and effort that go into getting everything safely set up, then taken down again.
Turgeon and his team began work this year on Sunday, June 29, giving them three full days to set up.
Turgeon is a retired firefighter and is certified to handle fireworks as large as 305 mm, or 12 inches, in diameter.
Bill Caul, his right-hand man, is superintendent of the Fort Frances Airport and is certified to respond to aircraft fire.
Their team is made up entirely of Caul’s family, including his octogenarian parents, Mary and Stephen.
They spend these three long days at the point as volunteers. While the fireworks themselves are paid for by the Fun in the Sun committee, none of these helpers, not even Turgeon, is paid a dime.
According to Paul Bock, chair of the FITS committee, the fireworks costs $15,000 this year, plus the cost of incidentals. They usually spend about $10,000, but the Town of Fort Frances and its centennial committee contributed for extra fireworks this year, to celebrate the 100th anniversary.
At 8 a.m. on Sunday, Turgeon, Caul, and seven family members take the mortars and other supplies out of storage and load their pick-up trucks.
They drive to the designated spot at the Point, behind the Hallett, and start unloading.
There is no room for creativity here, and no room for error. The fireworks, ordered a few months ago, arrive with detailed instructions, including which shells are to be placed where, and the order in which each shell is fired.
The explosives can only be ordered by a person who is certified by the Explosives Regulatory Division, part of the Department of Natural Resources.
Because of strict laws governing fireworks, Turgeon’s level of certification determines how spectacular the show will be.
Someone with a lesser certification would not be allowed to purchase the larger shells.
It costs $150 to renew the license each year, a cost that comes out of Turgeon’s own pocket.
“It’s my certification that goes on the line when we buy these fireworks,” Turgeon said.
This first day is devoted entirely to getting the mortars set up. The posts, as well as the racks of mortars, must all be kept at safe distances from each other to avoid sparks igniting several shells at once.
The team is out here all day, and they come fully-equipped with food and a porta-pottie. At 10 a.m., they bring out the homemade baked goods and Thermoses of coffee for a quick break.
The Caul family has been helping out with the fireworks for several years now, and while it means they miss out on most of the “Fun in the Sun” activities, the work also has its advantages.
“We get to spend three days together,” Mary Caul, the family matriarch, said.
It has also meant the addition of a new member. “Charlie’s part of the family, now,” she laughed.
Mrs. Caul, who recently turned 80, has been shovelling sand, carrying large planks of wood and assembling boxes all morning.
These boxes will be filled with the sand, to hold the largest mortars and the candles.
Stephen Caul, Mary’s husband, has been lifting and repairing racks that were damaged last year.
Turgeon is especially thankful for their efforts.
“It’s that extra pair of hands that really helps,” he said.
After the break, the team gets back to work. Once all the mortars are placed, they must all be covered with plastic sheeting in case of rain.
The mortars must be kept bone-dry because the shells, which will be put into the mortars on July 1, are made of paper and degrade quickly when wet.
Also, someone has to stay out all night to keep an eye on everything. One year, Turgeon said, they left the mortars overnight unattended, and they came back the next morning to find all the tarps pulled off, and some of the racks knocked over.
In past years, either Turgeon himself or some members of the Caul family have spent the night on the Point. This year they were lucky enough to find some volunteers, who arrive at 5 p.m.
Day two involves less lifting and carrying, but more detailed, tedious work. The team must attach 3,000 feet of wiring to 356 mortars.
Each individual mortar must be wired first to a junction, or post box, which is then connected to the control panel, from which the shells are detonated.
Before leaving for the night, all the shells must again be covered in plastic, and a volunteer stays to watch over them during the night.
Canada Day is the longest day. The team arrives at 8 a.m. as usual, but they will be out here until almost midnight to clean up after the show.
The main tasks for today are to carefully place the shells in the mortars, to ensure that all the connections are working properly, and to repair any wiring that may not be functioning.
Bill checks for continuity by kneeling over the control panel with a towel over his head. This makes it easier to see which lights are on and which are not. He finds three lights are not coming on.
He and his sister, Betty-Ann LaRocque, and her husband Len, go out to find the faulty wires and replace them.
The final step is to wrap the top of each individual mortar and candle in aluminum foil. This prevents the sparks from exploding shells from prematurely igniting those nearby.
The foil is then covered again with plastic, which will be removed just before showtime.
In past years, Turgeon and the Cauls have spent up to $700 of their own money in duct tape, plastic sheeting, and aluminum foil to protect the shells.
This year the FITS committee is covering these costs.
By 5 p.m. everything is ready and the team can relax. But it is only because they started setting-up on Sunday that they have this down-time now.
Normally, they would begin set-up the day before the show, but with 50 additional shells for the Centennial, they decided to give themselves an extra day.
When I show up at 9:30 p.m., the excitement is palpable. Everyone is looking forward to seeing the results of their labour, and they are not disappointed.
While the instructions from the supplier state that the show should last just under 11 minutes, Turgeon is able to slow it down to nearly 18 minutes.
From where we sit—the best seats in the house—about 25 metres from the shells, you see not only the explosions in the air at close range, but also the shells rocketing out of the mortars. It is breathtaking.
And while the spectators slowly make their way home, there is still some work to do at the Point.
Turgeon gives the shells about 20 minutes to cool off, then the team carefully walks out to the field with flashlights to inspect the mortars.
It is normal for some shells not to fire, and out of the 356, only eight remain undetonated.
“I totally disassemble the firing mechanism so they’re in neutral,” Turgeon said. He will later ship them back to the supplier, where they will be destroyed.
When all the wires are disconnected, the team goes home.
They come back Wednesday morning to take everything apart and put it back in storage.
“By the time we’re done, you’ll never know we were here,” Turgeon said.
Altogether, just under 300 hours of work went into the show.
And while there is some feeling on the team that they do an awful lot of work for little recognition, they leave with a positive outlook.
“When you see it go off, you think ‘It was worth it,’” Mrs. Caul said.
