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magazine / ja10
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July/August 2010 issue |
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EDITOR’S NOTEBOOK
On the border
What’s thin as a wisp, wide as a continent,
high as the stratosphere and deep as the Earth’s
core? The Canada–United States border, of course.
The 8,891-kilometre line that demarcates our two nations was drawn, surveyed and cleared over more than two centuries,
to the point where it has become iconic, representing our shared histories, friendships and differences. It is symbolic of
co-operation and, occasionally, consternation.
In the northwest, it follows the line of 141 degrees west longitude south from the Arctic Ocean, then outlines the
Alaska Panhandle to the Pacific, completing a 2,475-kilometre transect that separates the Yukon and British Columbia from
Alaska. In the east, it begins at the mouth of the Bay of Fundy, bisecting Grand Manan Channel and the St. Croix River in
southwestern New Brunswick, bears northward through forest and farmland, reaching and also bisecting the Saint John River
and Rivière Saint-François, until it hits Estcourt, Que. There, it veers southwestward, following a serpentine course broken
by straight stretches, land-bound and water-borne, to westernmost Ontario. From the southwestern corner of Lake of the
Woods to the midpoint of British Columbia’s Strait of Georgia, thanks to the Treaty of 1818, it adheres, with some variance,
to the forty-ninth parallel.
Some variance, indeed. Fourteen years ago, Alex Jarrett, an amateur geodesist, founded the Degree Confluence Project
(DCP), which encourages anyone to visit any point on the planet where whole numbered lines of latitude and longitude intersect.
(There are 16,339 such points, excluding those in the oceans and near the poles.) Contributors use GPS receivers to locate each
crossing point, take photographs looking north, south, east and west and post them on www.confluence.org. One of their interesting side projects has been to determine how far north or south of the forty-ninth some of the Canada–U.S. border monuments
actually sit. (The International Boundary Commission refers to this region as Section M, and has more than 900 monuments
along it.) The DCP has plotted 56 of them, none of which are actually on the line. Some are off by less than 10 metres; seven of
them are off by more than 150 metres. Historically speaking, surveyors
have been celebrated for their bushwhacking endurance and geometric prowess, but here, to some degree, their tools —
compasses, chains, watches and theodolites — let them down.
Borderline anomalies, disputes and incidents between the two countries occur all along the line, as our special report shows. And one particular crossing point
has seen all three. Stanstead, Que., in the Eastern Townships, and its contiguous American neighbour, the village of Derby
Line, Vermont, form what has long been a model of binational co-operation. Symbolizing this is the Haskell Free Library and
Opera House, built right on the line more than a century ago. In the opera upstairs, most of the seats are in America, but the
stage is in Canada.
Lately, Stanstead has been the scene of several borderline flare-ups, most triggered by errant and innocent crossers meeting
up with zero-tolerance patrollers. Our portrait of Stanstead’s residents, many of whom are dual citizens, reveals a laissez-faire
tradition intersecting with a new era of passport requirements and zealous security measures. Together, the town and village
form a perfect microcosm of the unity and division of two formidable friends.
— Eric Harris
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