People often ask us why we would have a cottage when we live in such a wonderful rural part of the country. A simple answer is that we bought our cottage retreat 29 years ago when we were living in the heart of downtown Toronto. The continuing answer is that we love being by water, away from telephones, televisions, computers and all of the invasive communication. We love the solitude. You see we have no hydro and no plumbing at our lakeside retreat.
Every year, of course, there is the annual opening in the
spring, and closing in the fall. As we get older, which each of us must, we try
to do the closing, in graduated stages over time.
We have two and a half
docks. One we simply pull closer to shore and tie securely to trees on either
side. One is small and sheltered and we simply leave it as is. The other we
must disconnect from a short bridge that is bolted into the rocky shore. To do
this, we must both get into the water. Therefore, we do that around Labour Day
when the water is still relatively comfortable. We learned our lesson when one
year we had left it to November. Not at all a good idea!
This year we had advanced
our closing ritual somewhat. In addition to the docks, on the Labour Day
weekend, we had put some of our outdoor furniture into its winter-resting spot
on top of the bed in the bunky – Bunkingham Palace as we have been known to
call it. So that left very little to do on our final early October weekend: The
wooden Muskoka Chairs were moved from their various perches into the cabin,
interior furniture was shifted to make room for the intrusion and a hammock was
hung in the sitting room from corner to corner weighted down by blankets,
cushions and pillows to just a foot and a half off the floor.
The row boat was rowed
across the lake, carried up the hill at a friend’s much more elaborate cottage
and stored in one of her two spacious garages. That left only our carefully
restored cedar canoe. We had left ourselves lots of time this year for one last
paddle around the perimeter of the lake before we would carry it to our Jeep,
secure it on the roof and drive it to the barn that would be its winter home.
It was a lovely sunny
day. Cool and crisp. A bit of a breeze had just picked up. We are both
experienced canoeists. We would stay close to shore and that we did. The lake
was bereft of human habitation. Only one couple of cottagers could be seen in
the distance working away on their deck. All was well.
We paddled to the south
of the lake and down the almost primaeval river a short distance, and then back
into the west Bay. Rounding the Bay was a little more work. The wind had grown
stronger and the waves, though manageable, made us work for our pleasure.
We rounded the mouth
of the Bay into the main lake, still close to the shore, paddling a little more
rigorously against the wind. Then, all hell broke loose!
The gusts of wind grew
dramatically. The waves had white caps and made balancing the canoe a challenge
to say the least. Our bodies were sails and the waves our engine. Paddling was
senseless and even risky. All I could do was use the paddle as a rudder and
keep our backs to the wind. The wind and water pushed us at great speed to the
south end of the lake. We kept as low as we could in the canoe, fearing the
worst.
Finally we reached the
north Bay. We enjoyed a bit of a reprieve from the aches of over-used muscles,
secret panic and the tension of body and spirit. But we still had to round the north
shore and head back up the east side of the lake… but the waves pounded and the
wind blasted.
Waves slapped across
the gunwales. At times paddling only kept us in place and away from being
dashed onto the rocks at shore. Nerves at peak, we paddled strongly into yet
another small Bay for some shelter and to rest at a dock. Then sense took hold.
We decided to come ashore on the sandy beach. We would walk home to get the
Jeep.
No one was home at
this cottage property with it’s expansive lawns of delight to numerous Canada
Geese that tend to use it for both nourishment and toilet. Why had we not
brought our shoes? The initial walk up to the road was on soft velvet, but the
two plus kilometres trek along the gravel road and down the long lane into our
cottage was slow and painful – an unholy pilgrimage of self-inflicted torture.
We returned to
retrieve our blessed canoe with Jeep, rope and cords. We lifted it onto the
roof of the Jeep with some difficulty as I am not a man of great height. I tied
the bow to the front of the vehicle and John tied the stern firmly to the rear.
Yes, he had tied it firmly and painstakingly; however forgetting that the
tailgate had to be closed and could not be closed over the rope. Groan.
But what might have
seemed distressing at another time, seemed mildly amusing to us after having
already endured and survived the raging waters, the angry wind and the
pestering pebbles.
We returned to the
cabin to pick up some boxes of food, blankets and a chainsaw, only to realize that
putting these in would now take a gymnast’s contortion. We could no longer open
the gate to easily get into the Jeep’s bowels! Grunt and moan, we did our best
to pack these remaining items from the front seats.
Then to the cabin to
lock up and away. Our cabin has an inner sanctum that we do actually secure
with door locks – two sliding doors and a main door into the outer cabin. The
inner cabin contains the kitchen and bedroom; the outer the sitting and dining
areas.
Once the inner cabin
was secured, we had to wiggle our way through the storehouse, crawl under that
weighted hammock and heave ourselves up on the dining level a foot above the
rest, and then, finally, out the back door. But that exit door would not budge.
It was locked – from the outside.
You see the outer
cabin is never really locked. The door of our final exit is merely bolted on
the outside to keep it closed against the winter winds. We were locked in!
One could only laugh
at the look of dismay and astonishment on each other’s face. All that wiggling
and wriggling had led to giggling. And we had to retrace our path to unlock a
door that was locked from the inside, go around and unlock the door that was
locked from the outside, then return to re-lock the door that should be locked
from the inside and exit from the door that is now to be bolted again from the
outside until next spring.
The cottage is closed
for another season. The canoe has been driven to its cradle in a barn. All is
well. Ah men!
