http://tvo.org/article/current-affairs/the-next-ontario/since-ice-roads-wont-stay-frozen-we-need-to-get-serious-about-building-permanent-roads-in-the-far-north

Climate change is hitting the north hard, and that means Ontario will have to decide whether the ice road network will be able to sustain the region in the 21st century. (John Michael McGrath/TVO)

The one thing that’s supposed to be reliable about Ontario’s far north is cold winters. But increasingly, warm spells in winter have delayed the opening of the ice roads that connect 31 remote First Nations communities spread across the bulk of the province’s north, from the shore of James Bay to the far northwest. This year, while grading and packing of snow and ice clearing has started in some locations, not a single one of the province's ice roads has opened to commercial traffic, and only half a dozen have opened for personal vehicle use. In the province’s northeast, the Wetum Road connecting the Moose Cree First Nation and other communities farther north to the provincial highway system won't open until next Monday at the earliest.

The ice roads are a crucial lifeline to communities physically cut off from the rest of the province most of the year. Climate change is coming for all of us, but in Canada it's hitting the north hardest, and that means Ontario is going to have to decide sometime in the near future whether the ice road network will be able to sustain the region in the 21st century.

It almost certainly won’t, and the province should start talking about what will replace it, and what that will cost.

Nishnawbe Aski Nation Grand Chief Alvin Fiddler says the situation this winter is already dire, as fuel reserves in northern communities are running low.

“The weather reports today say it could be too warm for another week or so … The communities that still rely on diesel plan their fuel hauls for late January, but now that’s not happening,” Fiddler told TVO.org on Monday. “My own community of Muskrat Dam only has seven to eight days of fuel left, and I imagine that’s going to be the case for other communities.”

When diesel reserves run dry one of two things happens: either the power runs out, or the government starts sending diesel by plane – something that’s enormously expensive, and even more contingent on weather conditions.

Not everything can be flown up, however. Building supplies can only be moved by truck, and until the ice roads open to commercial traffic, projects across the north are on hold. “In Sandy Lake, they were planning to construct a new nursing station this year,” Fiddler says. “They need to move all of the materials up on the ice roads, so there’s a lot at stake here.”

Last year’s season on the Wetum Road lasted only 63 days — something remote First Nations expect to be a new permanent feature of life in the north. Winter roads are the only kind of surface route these communities have, and even in a good year they’re only open for a few months. Thanks to climate change, the good years are less and less frequent. Their access to the rest of the provincial economy, already tenuous, is becoming increasingly precarious along with the roads, making any kind of community planning more difficult.

The problem of the far north is a tough one for any government: 24,000 people, about 90 per cent of them Indigenous, are scattered across 45 million hectares, or 40 per cent of the province’s land area. Building infrastructure across such a large area, to serve a relatively small number of people, is something governments have historically balked at except when potential resource riches are involved.

But nobody is calling for a six-lane freeway to the shores of Hudson Bay, either. All-weather roads don’t even need asphalt, given the small traffic volumes: proposals to build a road up to James Bay rely on good old-fashioned gravel.

Fiddler has called for a summit on northern infrastructure — not just roads but energy, telecommunications, and other essential infrastructure networks.