These 200-year-old records reveal a Red River flood that overshadows anything seen since

A drawing of the 1826 Red River flood by Peter Rindisbacher shows floodwater stretching as far as the eye can see. Rindisbacher was among roughly 250 residents who left the Red River Settlement following the flood’s devastation. (Archives of Manitoba)

Modern floods on the Red River have forced evacuations, overwhelmed dikes, and captured international attention. But historical records indicate none compare to the spring flood of 1826—a disaster that reshaped the region’s population, prompted the relocation of a trading post, and continues to serve as a benchmark for extreme flooding.

“This is by far the largest flood on the Red River that we know of,” said Scott Stephen, a historian with Parks Canada. “This is devastation on a colossal scale for the people who are living here.”

According to records compiled by Manitoba Conservation and Water Stewardship, the 1826 flood’s estimated natural peak discharge was about 225,000 cubic feet per second—nearly 40 per cent higher than during the 1997 flood, widely regarded as a once-in-a-century event.

Tree-ring evidence also suggests it was the most severe flood in the region since at least 1648, according to the provincial government. Severe spring floods can inundate riverside trees and cause oaks to develop unusual rings—termed “flood rings”—which are used to identify and date extreme floods prior to historical and instrumental flood records.

Although two centuries have passed, firsthand accounts from the Red River Settlement—the predecessor to modern-day Winnipeg—have been preserved. This includes Francis Heron’s journal.

Heron, an Irish-born Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC) employee, was serving as a clerk at Fort Garry at the time, located at the confluence of the Red and Assiniboine rivers. Stephen said Heron’s 1825–26 journal is “probably the most complete eyewitness account that we have of the flood,” documenting conditions over several months.

“The forts now standing like a castle of romance in the midst of an ocean of deep contending currents,” reads part of a May 13 entry in Heron’s journal, held by the Archives of Manitoba. “It is really distressing to see such fine complete establishments, thus become, in so short a period, in the condition of a wreck.”

Conditions align for a historic flood

However, that scale of destruction didn’t come out of nowhere. Conditions began developing the previous year, Stephen said.

He noted that 1825 was marked by persistent wet weather, with spring flooding and elevated water levels in lakes and rivers continuing through summer and fall. By late October, waterways were already beginning to freeze.

“And so, 1825 being a very wet year meant that the ground was already quite saturated by the time it came along, and winter came quite early,” he said. “When (snow) starts to melt, there’s not a great many places for it to go.”

This is supported by historical accounts such as those of Alexander Ross, a prominent figure in the Red River Settlement, who described the year as “unusually wet” and that a large quantity of snow fell in the preceding winter.

“Then came a late spring, with a sudden burst of warm weather, and a south wind blowing for several days in succession; the snow melted at once,” Ross wrote.

Compounding the situation, Stephen said records indicate significant rainfall through April and continuing into May and June, further intensifying flooding conditions. The precise amount of precipitation and the rate at which temperatures rose are not fully known, as regular monitoring in the Red River basin did not begin until 1872.

Ross also described large volumes of ice moving down the river and colliding with still-frozen waters of Lake Winnipeg, potentially slowing drainage and worsening flooding.

“This opinion is strengthened by the fact, that as soon as the ice of the lake gave way, the water began to fall,” he wrote.

According to Heron’s journal, water levels rose more than five feet within 24 hours on May 4, followed by the breakup of river ice the next day.

“About 2 P.M. the ice in the Red River at length broke up, with an awful rush; carrying away cattle, houses, trees and everything else that came in its way,” Heron wrote. “The river overflowed its banks everywhere, and carried the ice with great velocity to a greater distance from its course, than had ever been seen by the oldest inhabitants.”

‘Appearance of a large lake’

On May 5, Heron recorded that 47 houses were carried away by water within half an hour, “and many others afterwards from which the wretched inhabitants barely escaped with their lives.”

By the following day, settlers were noted to be moving possessions to higher ground along the Assiniboine River, while others stored goods in elevated structures among trees. Boats and canoes were then used in the forts, Heron wrote.

The Manitoba Métis Federation says documentation shows Indigenous peoples warned early colonists, fur traders and missionaries at Red River about severe flooding at the site in 1776, 1790 and 1809. The warnings, it notes, were generally unheeded.

By May 7, ice on the Assiniboine had broken up, further raising water levels and forcing more people to relocate. The following day, the rivers were described as almost devoid of ice.

“The whole country has assumed the appearance of a large lake,” Heron wrote on May 9. “The boats of the fort continue day and night, in use, saving the settlers, with their remaining cattle and effects from destruction.”

Heron repeatedly described wreckage—including houses—floating downstream, as residents fled to higher ground. In one entry, he wrote the settlers’ misfortune “may be truly said to be filled to overflowing.”

“The chimneys of the houses are nearly all fallen, and the shattered walls of the buildings also begin to give way to the overpowering force of the current,” Heron wrote the following week. “The houses rock to and fro like a ship at sea, every joint opens, every beam bends.”

At the height of the flood, both Fort Garry and Fort Douglas, the latter being in the Point Douglas neighbourhood, were severely damaged, Stephen said.

On May 15, Heron documented efforts to move HBC supplies from Fort Garry to higher ground along the Assiniboine, with goods sometimes having to be removed through rooftop openings.

“The boats at the same time were riding on the walls,” he wrote. “The buildings are undermining and giving way rapidly to the force of the current.”

Flood peaks around May 22

At the height of the flood, Stephen estimates that at least 75 per cent of what is now Winnipeg was underwater. Heron’s account in late May reveals that “as far as the eye can reach, the country is covered with water and driftwood.”

The flood is believed to have peaked around May 22. Heron noted that for the previous 36 hours, the water level had shown no noticeable rise or fall.

“This happy circumstance seems to revive a gleam of hope in the minds of the forlorn community around us, who are attached to the soils, that their case may not yet be altogether desperate,” he wrote.

“But by far the majority of these distressed people, and even those of them who meant until lately to pass the remainder of their days in this country, are now determined to abandon it for ever.”

According to Stephen, roughly 250 people left the settlement after the flood, most of them Swiss and German settlers. He described the event as the “last straw” amid ongoing struggles to adapt to life in the Red River Settlement, compounded by recruitment based on misleading promises.

“Almost every one of them packed up and said, ‘We’ve had it,’ and moved down to the United States,” Stephen said.

Among those who left was Peter Rindisbacher and his family. Rindisbacher, who arrived in the Red River Settlement as a teenager, documented life in the region through his artwork, including a depiction of the flood showing water stretching across the Prairies to the horizon.

Altogether, Stephen estimates more than 10 per cent of the settlement’s population permanently left in the aftermath.

By May 23, Heron reported the water had dropped by two inches overnight—a discovery “hailed with joy by the anxious multitude.” From that point, records begin to track the return of floodwaters to the riverbanks over the following weeks.

More than a month later, on June 25, Heron returned to Fort Garry, describing it as a “complete pile of ruins.” He had previously recorded that the fort’s blockhouse had been “carried off in an instant” during the flood.

He also noted that residents began seeding crops in June, and by July 5, water levels had largely returned to the riverbanks across the region.

“There were all kinds of losses, but people seem to have wasted no time just getting back to business, because life goes on,” Stephen said. “And I think that’s for me ... one of the things that really sticks out about the flood of 1826.”

A new site takes shape on higher ground

After the flood severely damaged Fort Garry, HBC governor George Simpson chose a new location for the fort farther north on higher ground. Built of limestone rather than wood, construction began in 1830 at what is now Lower Fort Garry.

Although the new fort was intended to serve as the region’s administrative centre, that role never fully materialized, as most of the settlement’s population remained concentrated around The Forks.

Stephen said the company ultimately re-established its presence near the original site, rebuilding the fort in stone beginning in 1835. The location became known as Upper Fort Garry, distinguishing it from Lower Fort Garry downstream along the Red River.

Today, the stone walls still stand at Lower Fort Garry along with multiple buildings that were erected when it used by the Hudson’s Bay Company. It’s now operated by Parks Canada and open for public visitation. As for Upper Fort Garry that was rebuilt, only the north gateway remains.

While residents at the time did not benefit from modern flood protection systems, the 1826 event became a benchmark for extreme flooding in the region.

Following the 1997 flood, the Red River Floodway channel—built between 1962 and 1968—was expanded to handle a one-in-700-year flood event. This exceeds the estimated magnitude of the 1826 flood, which has a probable return period of about 667 years.

For Stephen, he said he enjoys reading about historical events such as this but hopes to never experience a flood of this magnitude.

“I lived through the 1997 flood, … and this was just so much worse, so much bigger, so much more devastating,” he said. “I just want to live a nice, boring, flood free existence and never have to face anything, anything like that.”

However, as Ross wrote of the 1826 flood, “what has happened once, may happen again.”

“Excessive rains and snows seldom occur, indeed, in one and the same year; but when they do happen, or even when they occur in two consecutive years, they will undoubtedly produce the same disastrous results.”