Roofers in Stratford

Stratford sits far enough inland from Lake Huron to catch the tail of the lake-effect belt, and far enough north to hang on to it once it arrives. The station in town records about 218 cm of snow a year against 851 mm of rain.

Put simply: your snow stays.

Which is what makes ice dams

Snow that sits for weeks melts from underneath wherever the attic is warm, runs down to the cold overhang, and freezes there. Then the next melt has nowhere to go and starts working backwards under the shingles.

So on a Stratford roof the arguments worth having are how far the ice-and-water membrane runs up from the eave, whether the attic genuinely breathes from soffit to ridge, and whether somebody stuffed insulation into the soffits while topping up the attic. All three matter more here than anywhere south of the 401.

And then there is the old town

The blocks around the Avon carry a great deal of nineteenth-century housing. Steep pitches, dormers on three elevations, valleys everywhere.

Every one of those is a junction. Junctions are where the flashing lives. Flashing is what fails. A plain gable in a subdivision and a Victorian in the old town are not remotely the same job, and anybody quoting both at the same rate per square has not looked properly.

Why an aerial estimate goes wrong here

Software measures roof area beautifully. It does not count the step flashing behind the addition somebody built in 1962 — and on this housing stock, that is most of the skilled work.