There’s a canoe hanging from the living room roof

Writing today from an undisclosed location in central Ontario 90 minutes’ drive and boat ride north of Peterborough. It’s summer here at a lovely cottage  thanks to a kind invitation from a new family member and her parents.

I say “cottage,” having originally typed “cabin” inappropriately. There is an important distinction between the two monikers. A cabin is more rustic, with fewer amenities such as electricity, running water, and heating or cooling systems – Wait, I stand corrected — for heating you simply don a sweater; for cooling you jump in the lake.

A cottage conveys a level of comfort denied to other vacation structures. That said, the term “shack” is here applied to some cottages, though some of these (like the popular book) are worth over a million dollars. I don’t think our cottage is worth a million dollars, though its wood flooring and paneled walls which frame spectacular lake views are valuable features of a very cozy retreat. At our cottage, we are in fact right next to “cottage country” – including  Muskoka, Haliburton, the Kawarthas, and Bancroft — a place of wooden boats and former Conservative politicians.

I am told that weather here can change day by day, a claim I can only validate. Upon arrival we were met with humidity and warm weather —  nothing like what Southern Ontario has endured recently, but still warm. The next day, dark clouds descended through a quick-darkening sky; the barometer plunged announcing heavy rain propelled by some stiff wind. And today, it’s all beautiful sunshine, a dazzling yellow gleam across a blue sky reflected calm lake with a light warm breeze. Time for a dip in the bath-temperature lake water.

I haven’t stayed in either a cabin or cottage for many years now. I have fond memories from childhood of Cabins at Shawnigan Lake near Victoria, Kirby Creek in Sooke, and of Isabella Point on Salt Spring Island. Our family never owned these; but we had friends or relations who were pleased to host or loan to us.

In our present situation I appreciate how one must prepare carefully. I am used to the amenities of a middle-class consumer life. I have my own special needs relating to vision and hearing challenges. I need electricity. I don’t do well in heat or humidity; lots of change-of-clothes required. And in this case, I feared the worst regarding bugs for which Ontario is famous. My catastrophic anxieties were thankfully unfounded on all counts. Great news; I am so grateful.

I must, however, adjust my daily routines. While this cottage has inside non-potable water for general use;  drinking water must be brought in. For toileting there is an outside privy. It’s a lovely WIFI and phone-accessible privy. Environmentally we hear no road traffic — the occasional motorized skiff, a few pontoon boats, and a lone single-engine plane on floats are within hearing distance. Otherwise, it’s the Loons. How very Canadian.

Another feature of cottage life here is time (non)management. I don’t even wear my watch here. There’s no point; no one seems to care. Hoping to head off to bed last night I tentatively asked my host what time people went to bed. The reply came: “When we’re tired.” Still puzzled, I pressed my case: “What time do you get up in the morning?” Answer: “When we wake up.”

I suspect you wonder about my title. One of our hosts has been around these parts for a while, quite a while in fact. Her family owned and operated The William English Canoe Co. which operated from 1861 – 1932. They were later absorbed into The Peterborough Canoe Company. Whether used by Indigenous or settler communities canoes are still in frequent use in these lakes and islands and all across Canada. While seated in the living room, taking a break from reading yesterday, I stretched my neck, and looked up. Lo and behold, a full-size “English” canoe is suspended from the ceiling. What a fabulous and beautiful prop.

I saw other English Family canoes at the Canadian Canoe Museum in Peterborough. It’s a wonderful place to visit, for all ages. I photographed much of the collection on the way up here. Here are some images for you to enjoy.

I hope my description gives you, dear reader, a sense of my gratitude for the gift given us in this beautiful place and space. Amidst a chaotic and sometimes cruel world, a few days at the lake is a blessing. We will return home in a few days, after an in-person visit to Toronto’s Rogers Centre for Blue Jays Baseball (such as it is this year). But that’s another story.

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