Cottagers on the Trent-Severn Waterway, not far from Big Chute Marina, contended with 24 hours of mischief last week after Ontario Provincial Police arrested a 41-year-old man from Toronto who was causing disturbances in the area.
On September 5 around 12:04 p.m., the Southern Georgian Bay OPP detachment responded to a call about a neighbour disturbing several cottagers along John Buchler Road in Georgian Bay Township. Const. David Hobson said at present, OPP are unable to release information about what the man was doing.
By the time OPP arrived the accused, later identified as Thomas Dibaise, had jumped into the waters of Six Mile Channel, just off of John Buchler Road, and fled. With assistance from the OPP Marine Unit, officers found Dibaise approximately three hours later, still in the water, near Little Chute—south of Six Mile Channel.
Officers arrested Dibaise and charged him with mischief, which includes obstructing, interrupting, or interfering with the lawful use, enjoyment, or operation of a property. According to Hobson, examples of mischief can range from blasting excessive noise at inappropriate times to driving a Sea-Doo back and forth too close to someone’s dock—any action, within reason, that prevents an owner from enjoying their property.
Officers also charged Dibaise with escaping lawful custody, and six counts of uttering threats to cause death or bodily harm. Officers released Dibaise, who was staying at a cottage in the area, under conditions, with the understanding that he would appear before the Ontario Court of Justice on October 27.
This, however, wasn’t the OPP’s last interaction with Dibaise. The next morning on Sept. 6, just before 8 a.m., emergency services received calls about a fire at the cottage Dibaise was staying at. OPP officers and the Georgian Bay Township Fire Service responded to the call. According to Hobson, there were no visible flames, but smoke billowed out of the cottage.
Fire services extinguished the smoke, but during that time, Dibaise fled the scene. OPP eventually found him driving along Whites Falls Road in Severn Township.
To safely halt the vehicle, OPP deployed a spike belt along the road, which punctured and deflated the tires of Dibaise’s vehicle. Officers arrested Dibaise again, charging him with a second count of mischief, dangerous operation of a vehicle, four counts of failure to comply, and stunt driving.
This time, officers did not release Dibaise after his arrest, instead transporting him to the Southern Georgian Bay OPP detachment where he remains in custody. Dibaise will appear before the Ontario Court of Justice at a future date.
This summer, near our cottage, there were a few fires where cigarette butts were deemed to be the cause. I’m concerned that some people on our lake don’t understand the dangers of improper cigarette butt disposal. How should people be disposing of used cigarettes at the lake, where the vegetation can get tinder-dry in the summer?—Jolene Macfarlane, via email
You have a valid concern. Cigarettes don’t account for the majority of fires, but they certainly account for some of them. In the summer of 2019, for example, seven Vancouver Island fires over the course of seven days were attributed to discarded cigarette butts.
Part of the problem is that a butt can appear as if it’s extinguished, but if it lands on burnable material, it can still ignite. A stubbed-out cigarette that someone tosses from a car window, assuming it’ll land harmlessly on the pavement, could bounce, roll, and end up in vegetation growing on the side of the road. For obvious reasons, “the risk for a discarded cigarette to start a forest fire or a grass fire goes up when we haven’t had much precipitation, and the ground layer is more dry than normal,” says Michael Peake, the fire prevention officer for the town of Bracebridge, Ont. Certain plant material—such as dry peat moss—is particularly good at “insulating” the cigarette. “We’ve been to numerous fires caused by smokers’ materials extinguished in a planter containing dry peat moss,” says Peake. “We’ve seen peat moss insulate for seven hours before the cigarette started a fire.”
If you’re worried about forest fires in particular, the good (er, sort of) news is that stats show that cigarettes are not anywhere near the most common source of wildfires. In Canada, about 50 per cent of wildfires are caused by lightning strikes, says Mike Flannigan, the director of the Western Partnership for Wildland Fire Science at the University of Alberta. The other 50 per cent are “human-caused”—for instance, campfires, ATV activity, burning debris, and in some cases, arson.
Smokers have no control over lightning, or hot ATV tailpipes, or arsonists. They do have control over their butts. If you have cottage guests who smoke, discard their ashes and used cigarettes into a jar or a metal bucket with a lid, and keep it outside, says Peake. “The lid takes away the oxygen to the cigarette, putting it out almost instantly.” When it’s time to empty the bucket, wet the contents to make certain that everything is extinguished. “Then it should be safe for disposal in the garbage,” says Peake.
Time for a public service announcement! If a smoker is outside somewhere in the woods, with no ashtray, bucket, or jar, “I would suggest finding a puddle or a hard surface, like a rock, to extinguish the cigarette,” says Peake. “Ideally, detaching the filter and taking it back to a place where you can properly dispose of it is the best idea. Filters aren’t compostable and have plastics that will not degrade.” Never butt a cigarette on the forest floor, he says. “Dry needles, grass, and leaves may combust after you’ve left the area.”
Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.
Last Wednesday, the country’s central bank raised its policy interest rate by 75 basis points to 3.25 per cent, the highest it’s been since 2008. Canada’s biggest banks, including TD and RBC, followed suit, raising their prime lending rates by the same amount.
By raising interest rates, the Bank of Canada is impacting the amount of money Canadians are able to borrow in the form of mortgages and lines of credit, as well as increasing the amount of interest customers have to pay on loans.
This is the fifth rate hike in approximately six months. The Bank of Canada continues to increase interest rates in an attempt to tackle runaway inflation. Earlier this summer, the inflation rate hit a 39-year high of 8.1 per cent. Thanks to a drop in gasoline prices, inflation has since eased to 7.6 per cent. But the bank says this isn’t a reason to relax.
“That has helped bring the pressure down on inflation,” said Carolyn Rogers, the Bank of Canada’s senior deputy governor, during a press conference. “Apart from that, though inflation has broadened and increased. Certainly the raises have helped, but commodities in general remain volatile, so there’s still a chance that we get pressure back up in the other direction.”
The war in Ukraine and COVID lockdowns in China continue to impact the supply chain, preventing manufacturers and suppliers from meeting demand. Rogers explained that demand in Canada remains strong, but to reach the bank’s goal of two per cent inflation, it needs to continue curbing demand through interest rate hikes until it balances with supply.
“We have seen some early signs that monetary policy is working. Interest-rate sensitive parts of the economy—the housing market being an obvious example—have seen some pull back,” Rogers said.
The one scenario that the bank is concerned about is if Canadians start to make long-term decisions based on the idea that a high rate of inflation is here to stay. “That’s the entrenchment that we talk about that would be damaging to the economy,” Rogers said. “If that starts to occur, it makes inflation much harder to get down. It means monetary policy has to do more and rates have to go higher to get inflation down.”
How long will the rate hikes last?
When asked whether interest rates are expected to keep increasing, Rogers was cagey with her response. “We’ll take the next decision when it comes,” she said. The bank is expected to reassess its rates on October 26.
In a report published around the end of August, CIBC theorized that the 3.25 per cent rate should remain throughout 2023 with no additional hikes. However, CIBC recanted this theory in a later report, saying: “We’ll be lifting our target for the end of this tightening cycle, with another 25-50 [basis points] on tap for October. Even in October, the Bank is likely to want to leave the door open for a further move until it gets more definitive evidence of a deceleration in growth and inflationary pressures. We see that as likely to be in evidence over the next two quarters.”
Rogers mirrored this statement during a speech last Thursday, saying it will take time to get inflation down and there could be bumps along the way.
What does this mean for mortgages?
Many mortgage holders across Canada are feeling the effects of increased interest rates. A mortgage is one of the most common types of debt held by Canadians. According to the Canadian Financial Capability Survey, in 2019, 40 per cent of Canadians had a mortgage, with the median amount of those mortgages being $200,000.
For those with a fixed-rate mortgage, the interest hike won’t affect them until they have to renew. CIBC estimates that approximately one-fifth of mortgage holders have to renew their fixed-rate contract in a given year.
As for mortgage holders with a variable rate, 70 per cent have fixed payments, meaning the payments don’t change, only the amortization period does. The other 30 per cent are feeling the immediate impacts of the rate hikes.
There is concern with the fixed-payment, variable-rate mortgages that the latest interest hike has caused many of them to reach their “trigger rate”. This means the interest rate has gone up so much that an individual’s monthly payments are only covering the interest and are not paying down any of the principal loan. If interest rates pass this trigger, monthly payments will go up. Those most affected will be individuals who took out loans in early 2020 when interest rates were at 0.25 per cent.
During a conference call discussing its third quarter earnings, RBC revealed that 80,000 of its customers are about to surpass their trigger rates, causing an average increase of about $200 per month. An individual’s monthly payment increase will depend on the size of the loan, the amortization period, and what the rate was when the customer borrowed the money.
Canadians may also have more difficulty qualifying for mortgages. Anyone making a down payment of less than 20 per cent on a property must pass Canada’s mortgage stress test. The test shows lenders that a borrower can make mortgage payments at either the rate offered by their lender or the Bank of Canada’s five-year fixed rate, whichever’s greater. As interest rates go up, so does the five-year fixed rate. It now sits at 4.33 per cent.
How do you prepare for interest rate hikes?
For those concerned about paying off their mortgage amidst interest rate hikes, the Canadian government suggests paying down as much of your debt as possible before an interest-rate increase. “If you have less debt, you may be able to pay it off more quickly. This will help you avoid financial stress caused by bigger loan payments,” the government said.
Other suggestions include cutting expenses so you have more money to pay down your debts, paying the debts with the highest interest rates first so that you’re spending less money on interest, consolidating debts with high interest rates into a lower interest-rate loan, and making sure you have an emergency fund to deal with unplanned costs.
As Rogers said during her press conference, the most important factor is to not let the idea of high inflation sway your long-term spending decisions, as this can negatively impact the Canadian economy
“The thing that the governing council is most focused on is getting inflation back to target,” she said.
Last Mountain Lake is nicknamed locally as Long Lake: stretching a slender 93 km from north to south, it’s the largest natural lake in southern Saskatchewan. The southern tip is only about 40 km northwest of Regina, earning it “beach within reach” status.
The area features sandy shores, rolling prairie hills, and native vegetation like Saskatoon and chokecherry bushes. Roughly 50 hamlets rim the lake, and a wide variety of road-access cottages are available, from modest lots with small cabins to more expensive four-season getaways. There’s also a decent selection of vacant lots on the lake.
Cottagers love the long prairie summer evenings; the watersports; summer and winter fishing for pike, perch, and walleye; and winter activities such as snowmobiling and cross-country skiing. Regina Beach offers grocery stores and once-weekly medical care (the closest hospitals are in Regina). The Last Mountain Lake Bird Sanctuary, the first federal bird sanctuary in North America and a National Historic Site, at the north end of the lake, is home to more than 280 bird species. There are two small provincial parks on the eastern shore.
On August 25, after months of debates and deferrals, the Minden Hills town council denied a short-term rental’s application to rezone itself as a lakeside resort.
The rental, known as the Post House, sits on the southern shore of Lake Kashagawigamog in Haliburton County. Husband and wife Joel Baker and Helen Milstein purchased the property, which sits on a two-acre lot, in 2018, and submitted their zoning application in June 2021.
Council, however, wasn’t happy with how the rental has conducted itself. Despite the owners labelling the property as a short-term rental, neighbours argue the Post House has operated as a resort since it first opened.
During the August 25 meeting, Debbie Fitzsimmons, whose 90-year-old parents live next door to the Post House, said that the previous weekend the property hosted a wedding with 15 to 16 cars parked along the driveway. She also pointed out that the property houses an industrial-sized kitchen operated by private chefs who cook gourmet meals for guests. A feature common among resorts.
“From what I’ve learned in this process, any development requires appropriate zoning, a site plan, and sufficient infrastructure, such as septic capacity, to all be in place prior to permits being approved. This whole process with the Post House has been in reverse,” she said. “Neighbours trusted what was initially presented to them about the business plan for the Post House, and now we realize what a misrepresentation that was.”
On its website, the Post House says that it acts as a corporate retreat, providing a private getaway for colleagues, clients, friends, and family. The property includes four dwellings, one sleeping cabin, a garage/gym, a boathouse, as well as an industrial-sized kitchen.
The Post House is zoned as a residential lot, meaning it can serve as a home, cottage, or short-term rental. Through its application, the property aimed to be rezoned as recreational-commercial, allowing the Post House to operate as a tourist establishment, resort, or restaurant.
As a short-term rental, the entire Post House property must be rented out to a single group. Whereas if it was rezoned as a resort, the property could rent out each cabin to separate groups.
Minden’s town council held a public meeting in December 2021 to review the Post House’s application. During that meeting town councillors deferred their decision until the Post House completed a lake impact assessment and septic system review to ensure that the rezoning wouldn’t threaten the health of Lake Kashagawigmog.
The Post House employed a number of firms to complete these tasks, submitting the findings to the council. The Post House also assured council that it did not plan to remove any trees or vegetation from the property or add any new buildings.
After reviewing the results of these assessments and confirming that rezoning the property as a resort wouldn’t affect the lake, town staff recommended during a June 9, 2022 meeting that council approve the zoning application. Yet, the council deferred the decision again, wanting staff to further research what kind of restrictions and limitations could be put on the property if it was rezoned as a resort, especially if the property was sold.
After hearing from all stakeholders during the August 25 meeting, council denied the application.
“This is setting a precedent. What we see as a short-term rental…a short-term rental to commercial zoning, that means that every short-term rental we have on the lake could do the same thing,” said councillor Pam Sayne during the meeting. “The way they’ve gone about this to totally undermine the process by just doing it and then asking for permission and rezoning is not the way any of us do [things].”
Minden mayor Brent Devolin agreed with Sayne, adding: “I can tell you this, not only to the applicant but to future applicants, it’s about trust. If your actions betray the trust between us, our staff, and the public, it comes with consequences, and in this circumstance, I think it’s unanimous that we want to deny this.”
In response to the denied application, Post House co-owner, Joel Baker, said over email that they were disappointed in the ruling, especially after he and his wife addressed and satisfied all of the council’s requirements.
“As permitted under the Planning Act, we will be appealing this decision to the Ontario Land Tribunal,” he said. “Facts were mischaracterized during the meeting and had we been given the opportunity to respond, we would have been able to correct those misrepresentations. In the meantime, we continue to operate lawfully and respectfully under the township’s zoning bylaw and short-term rental framework.”
When I think of the cottage, I imagine a sparkling blue lake, surrounded by laughter and serenity. However, my last few cottage-country experiences were anything but peaceful. Our explorations outside the city started with high hopes and ended with us feeling humbled by our surroundings, but would I trade these misadventures with smooth sailing? I would not.
Our first summer mishap started when my partner Behrad and our dog Popsie planned a two-week all-Ontario road trip from Toronto to Thunder Bay. Dotted i’s and crossed t’s, the itinerary was perfect. We were going to conquer the most exciting hikes, and visit Northern Ontario’s hidden gems. Our first stop? Killarney’s “The Crack.”
We made it to the first lookout. We walked to the edge of the flat windswept rocky terrain, where we breathed in the fresh air and admired the sea of evergreen trees, appreciating the silence. No cars, no horns, no city hustle and bustle. Only a couple of minutes passed before Behrad suddenly turned sharply, towards the steep rocky path, riddled with large boulders, big and small cobblestones, and exposed roots, calling over his shoulder “Let’s goooo!”
Slow and steady was my usual approach, but Behrad and Popsie were eager to reach the top. After stretching our limbs past comfort and scraping our elbows and knees along the dusty sharp rocks, we finally made it. Gorgeous 365-degree views left us speechless. No longer did the mountains tower over us, but instead they looked like foothills in the distance. The Crack, a four-metre wide divide between giant rocky walls, was a bonus, framing the view, nature’s own Van Gogh at play.
I thought the way up was challenging, but the way back down was worse. Gravity thrust us forward, increasing our momentum, as we tap danced our feet in little steps, trying to slow our speed down the mountain. Popsie was showing off, leaping from one boulder to another, without any effort. The decline eventually became more manageable, easing into a flatter, rocky lookout point. Behrad took this opportunity to jump from rock to rock, but scrambled at the last minute, before hitting the ground, and letting out a giant “AHHHHHHHHHHH!” Man down! Man down! On the ground, he was still and in shock. I saw the pain in his eyes as he reached for his ankle, panicking about how big it was getting, so quickly. I wasn’t sure what to do at this point. We didn’t have any first-aid supplies, and there were a few kilometers of walking to get to the car. At first, I tried supporting him as he stood up, but it hurt too much to put any weight on the ankle. What were we going to do?
After a few minutes of resting, an ex-firefighter and ex-paramedic came to our rescue. They just so happened to be hiking and spotted us in the distance. (Our troubled looks must have given it away). Rushing over to assess the ankle, they assured Behrad that it wasn’t broken, but severely sprained. They offered ice packs and a tension band for support, and even offered to help him down the rock-ridden path, but Behrad politely declined. Half walking, and half sliding down the steep dirt paths, we made it to the trail. What should have been a two-hour hike back to the car, turned into a then daunting five-hour trudge. After many ouches and pit-stops later, we did it, Behrad did it—what a champ!
This vacation took an unexpected turn, not for the worst, but for something far better. For the rest of that trip, we cruised along the winding and smooth highways that border Lake Huron, taking mental pictures of the tree-lined roads, nothing in sight but rolling hills, flourishing fields, and clear lakes. We jammed out to class radio tunes, listened to too many podcasts, and visited towns we had never heard of. (Did you know Plummer Additional exists? And that it’s close to beautiful sandy beaches? Me neither.) We learned to make the best out of a crappy situation with good company, breathtaking views, a good attitude, and a full tank of gas.
That following fall, we packed our bags for a weekend hiking trip in Huntsville, settling by a lakeside cottage in the evenings. The first thing that went into our backpacks? A first-aid kit and proper hiking boots. No way were we having a repeat of the summer. I can’t recall the name of the trail that we hiked on, but I do remember how beautiful the scenery was. Red, yellow, and orange leaves covered the trees, crisp autumn air filled our lungs, and the cool breeze made for the perfect temperature to combat the heat that radiated off of us from the hike. We couldn’t have asked for a better start, no injuries; just incredible lookout views and elevated heart rates from the hilly paths along the mountain tops.
It was on our way back that things went awry. Following what we thought was part of the loop we found ourselves wandering aimlessly in circles. “I recognize that tree,” I thought, after confirming that I’d seen it for the third time. The blue cards posted on the trees that should have directed us seemed to be making the situation worse. After a while, we had to admit it to ourselves: we’re lost. I swear that at first, we tried to be positive, but the novelty wore off and the smiles drained from our faces when we realized we had no clue where to go next. Hungry, tired, annoyed, and impatient, we couldn’t help but wonder how we got into this situation. As the sun set, the temperatures lowered, sending shivers down our spines. Not just because of the chilly evening, but suddenly those lovely nighttime sounds you hear while safely inside a cabin became creepy and uncomfortably close.
But, ah ha! We were lucky to have spotted a family in the distance. Little did we know fate plays cruel tricks because they too were lost. For the next hour, we dragged our feet through the pitch-black trails, trying any direction, but the right one. We kept finding our way back to a muddy dead-end trail, at the edge of a stream, bordering a dense wooded area that we could barely see ten feet into. We grew more distressed and panicked, and then, when all seemed hopeless, Behrad asked, “Does anyone have cell service? Can we call for help?” After a scrambled and lengthy call, the park rangers were on their way.
Not too soon after, we saw the light. Well, we saw the flashlight of two experienced hikers. We were so relieved to be with someone who knew the way out, and as we followed behind them one-by-one, we realized our mistake: that muddy stream on the edge of a deep-dark-never-ending forest? Yeah, that was the path.
Forty-five minutes later we were huffing and exhausted, but finally safe in our cars. Here’s the thing, we thought we were well prepared with first-aid gear, but we failed to remember flashlights, a map, park office numbers, and a few extra snacks. Although we are still amateur hikers, you bet your bottom that we now hike with a backpack full of safety equipment to avoid getting lost and injured again.
The first time is a fluke, and the second time is a coincidence, but the third time’s a pattern. Our string of unfortunate cottaging events took a turn for the worst in the Kawarthas in May 2022. Behrad, Popsie, and I decided to go on another weekend trip, starting with a hike on a Ganaraska Forest trail. The hike itself was glorious, with scenic views of towering lush green trees, along a curved path of rich soil. Each turn there was something different—like a skinny edge walk beside a small waterfall with one trickling and relaxed stream. We even brought our essential hiking backpack with all of our equipment and wore our hiking boots for optimal grip. Back at our car, we breathed a sigh of relief, no bumps or hiccups on this hike. As we put our bags in the car, the first drops of rain hit our noses, as gray skies crackled in the distance. A storm was on its way. Crash! Loud and booming thunder shook the skies, as lightning pierced through the clouds. The storm was approaching faster than we thought. Just minutes after driving down the road, it started raining cats and dogs (and lions and tigers). In one fell swoop, gusts of wind slapped our car, rocking it side to side, almost pushing us off the road. With a tight grip around the steering wheel, I was shaking, not even considering the lineup of cars that accumulated behind me as I crept along at ten kilometres an hour. I had no choice. I couldn’t see the hood of the car.
The rain eventually slowed and then lifted, but what we saw as we drove back to our home-away-from-home was shocking. Broken hydro poles, snapped-in-half trees, and flattened barn roofs lined country roads. We turned into the host’s driveway and saw the greenhouse destroyed, pieces of trampoline littered about like matchsticks, and the yard in total shambles. It was heartbreaking to see a moment’s storm turn into inevitable weeks of repair. That night we stayed in their bunkie (instead of the teepee that we were planning on sleeping in that night), afraid of another weather tantrum. The next day, Kawartha Lakes and the surrounding area were powerless and littered with debris. People were outside starting to clean up their yards, and emergency services were fixing broken hydro poles, and clearing larger fallen trees. We were thankful for our safety during our brief stay and compassionate for those that had to face weeks and months of the aftermath of the derecho that swept through Ontario that May long weekend.
That weekend we learned a third very important lesson, to not only watch the weather carefully but to be aware of any storm alerts. Being prepared for different weather conditions shouldn’t just be a lesson they teach you in Scouts, but one that all hikers and outdoor enthusiasts should know.
On reflection, aside from discovering just how stunning our province is, and how helpful the folks are who live here, what we learned throughout this string of unfortunate events is that mishaps don’t always have to be unfortunate. We laughed without control, pondered without boundaries, chatted without any intention, made the best out of our situation, and learned the importance of being prepared with equipment and up-to-date with weather forecasts. Each of the trips weren’t what we planned, but I look back at those memories with kind eyes, and a greater appreciation for a different type of cottaging and road tripping. You win some, you lose some, and in our case, with a little luck and the goodwill of strangers, we won more than we bargained for.
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Get ready for a season full of cozy scarves and chunky knits—it’s time to pull out your fall wardrobe. Looking to add something new and fresh to your collection? We’ve found some of the latest fall fashion from our favourite cottage-approved brands that will keep you warm and on-trend this season. From puffer tote bags to trendy-yet-functional shoes, we’re taking the guesswork out of what to purchase for a chilly autumn day spent at the lake.
Roots Organic Original Zip Stein, Gender Free
Half-zip sweaters and sweatshirts are a cozy fall favourite that are quickly becoming an on-trend seasonal must-have. This style features a bold colourway, half-zip design, and graphic logo that will be the perfect addition to a cozy cottage night in.
Chunky shoes are on everyone’s list this season, but this pair is ultra-functional and fashionable, which means it’s perfect for cottage life. Highlights include a waterproof membrane, breathability, durability, and all-purpose versatility. So, whether you’re spending time outdoors with the family or hiking up a trail, you can feel confident and comfortable—no matter the activity.
The puffer trend is still going strong this fall! This certified vegan puffer tote bag has ample space to store all of your essentials for a cottage weekend away and is made from rubber-touch nylon with a specialized water-resistant PU coating seal. This chic tote also features an internal lanyard which means your cottage keys will be close at hand at all times.
Bomber jackets are officially in this season, and this trendy style is the perfect outerwear piece to sport at the cottage this fall. The classic varsity-style design complete with graphic details features a comfortable, loose fit that will easily take you from daytime cottage activities to nighttime campfires.
Utility-style pieces are one of this season’s go-to fall trends. This shirt is a cottage must-have because it features sweat-wicking, cool-wearing fabric, as well as UPF 40. Bonus points for its fashion! It also includes hidden back vents which help you adapt to different conditions. This is an elevated, refreshed basic that will ensure you tackle any cottage activity in style.
Hunter Women’s Play Vegan Shearling Insulated Clogs
Clogs are making a comeback this season because of their ability to merge comfort with versatility. These vegan shearling insulated clogs are a cozy, reimagined version of the brand’s iconic Play Clog, plus, the slip-on style makes these an easy slipper option for cool cottage morning and a suitable choice for an afternoon in the garden. For those that want to add a pop of colour to their wardrobe this season, you can shop this design in four different colourways.
This jacket combines multiple trends—oversized denim jackets and vintage patchwork are making a huge comeback this season—making it a must for fall. It’s the perfect outerwear addition to your wardrobe to compliment your go-to cottage looks. If you’re looking for a stylish fall jacket to sport at the cottage this year, this is a definite must-have.
Relaxed-fit jeans offer a winning combination of style and comfort to your cottage wardrobe. They’re super versatile in design and on-trend for the fall season. You can easily pair them with your favourite sweater or t-shirt to take your cottage look to the next level.
Vintage-style hats are super on-trend and a must-have accessory for cottage season. This design features a retro-inspired take on the brand’s classic trucker style that’s perfect for rocking during your next fishing trip this fall.
Jumpsuits aren’t going out of style anytime soon. This versatile design is ultra-cozy and comfortable for a cottage weekend away because it’s made from super-soft upcycled Polartec™ fleece. It’s also designed with a four-way stretch that moves with you, and features a durable knit exterior that’s ideal for protecting you from the outdoor elements.
Vests are a functional fall trend that you’ll love sporting at the cottage this season. This design is super lightweight, easy to pack, features microfibre insulation, and is water-resistant, making it ideal for any cottage adventure or activity.
Despite 40 bears being struck and killed by vehicles driving along Highway 400 between Honey Harbour Road, Georgian Bay Township, and the Town of Parry Sound in August, there appears to be no definitive answer in regards to the number of sightings being reported and the spike in the number of bears killed.
Mike McIntosh, founder, and president of Bear With Us, stresses that it doesn’t reflect an increase in the Georgian Bay black bear population. “That area probably hasn’t changed much in the last decade or two,” he says. Instead, McIntosh theorizes that it has to do with food sources.
“There’s a move around this time of year because of hyperphagia, which means that [the bears] are hungry, constantly trying to fatten up for hibernation,” McIntosh says. “Food sources have become more or less scarce in certain areas, and that makes [bears] travel a lot. And then most of these busy four-lane highways, from what I’ve seen, are even busier than normal.”
As highways become more populated and people drive faster, it makes it more difficult for bears to safely cross. When bears do want to cross a highway, they’ll watch the road from the edge of the woods and wait for a gap, McIntosh says. But their cubs don’t always follow, meaning the mother has to backtrack across the highway to grab them. This is often when they get hit.
McIntosh says the OPP’s estimate of 40 dead black bears along Highway 400 is likely underreported. “The police don’t usually get a call unless the bear-vehicle collision does some damage to the car and maybe they’re needed for an insurance claim,” he says. “In the last month, I’ve seen quite a few dead cubs in the road, which wouldn’t damage a vehicle because they’re the size of a house cat.”
If the province wants to prevent bear collisions, McIntosh says it needs to invest in wildlife corridors, such as bridges or tunnels that help the animals bypass highways, as well as fences along both sides of the road.
As for drivers, the OPP recommends sticking to the posted speed limits, scanning well ahead of the vehicle, watching ditches and shoulders, and using proper headlamps, especially around dusk and dawn.
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was the latter part of the spring in 2008, and I was out for a paddle in Algonquin Park. I’m fortunate to be sponsored by the Canadian clothing company Roots, and more fortunate still that they let me hang out at, and train from, their awesome lodge in Algonquin Park. On the day in question, I was preparing for the Summer Olympic Games in Beijing (which were in just a few months), very focussed on making my kayak go very fast in very straight lines with perfect technique and form.
Algonquin is a great place to do this. Not only are there limitless stretches of beautiful flat water for paddling and limitless crisp, clean air to breathe, but apart from the odd loon, some friendly canoe trippers, and a mind-blowingly majestic sunset, there isn’t much in the way of distraction. There was really just one decision I had to make on this, my week’s tenth such kayak sojourn, and it was coming up soon. Left or right? Left went under the bridge to Smoke Creek and on to Smoke Lake—a beautiful lake, but pretty big, and probably windy. Oh, and it was pouring rain. But it was magical rain, so utterly Canadian it was like drops of warm maple syrup on my face. A right turn would take me onto a pristine little lake called South Tea. It’s small enough that it doesn’t whip up with a little gust. With four islands for variety and some wind shelter, it is the ideal size for a quick training loop.
If you’ve ever paddled a canoe or a kayak or, Tom Thomson forbid, a paddleboard in Algonquin, then you may know approximately where I was. I chose to steer my skinny little racing kayak to the right, onto South Tea Lake. Usually, left turn–right turn choices don’t have an impact on the rest of your life. But this one did. Not like the disastrous and ill-fated one Mr. Thomson experienced in 1917. This was a good kind of impact. It certainly changed my life, and certainly for the better.
Adam van Koeverden on the dock with his dog Michael. Photo by Daniel Ehrenworth/Cottage Life
I started kayaking in 1995 on the advice of my mother. She was concerned that the older and less athletic of her two sons was getting into trouble after school. Mostly because I was getting into trouble after school. I was too old for a babysitter, and clearly too young or stupid to be trusted on my own. So when the local newspaper ran a recruitment ad for the Burloak Canoe Club, which read: “Future Champions Wanted,” my mother called the club and politely inquired if non-future champion, jerky tweenagers were also welcome. Thankfully, they were in need of new members, so I was allowed to join.
The Burloak Canoe Club was my game-changer. They took a lazy, directionless kid off the couch and taught him to channel some of his energy into something useful. Okay, possibly not that useful. Kayaking is fun, but unless you’re seal-hunting, I suppose it may not be vital. It is an awfully enjoyable gig, though, even after paddling 5,000 km a year for the past 16 years. Kayaking has taken me all around the world for racing and training and has taught me some pretty weighty life lessons as well. At Burloak I learned the most valuable lesson I know: that any task requiring hard work to accomplish is redeemed by both the reward(s) you may be fortunate enough to receive, and (perhaps more so) by the value inherent in the effort. My kayaking career has rewarded me in many ways, not the least of which was bringing me to that corner of Algonquin.
I often consider how the choices we make mould us into the people we are. My choice to turn right that rainy morning, a seemingly random decision, ended up being another game-changer for me. When I was out paddling on South Tea Lake, I saw a For Sale sign on a dock. There was an old log cabin, and it seemed nobody had been by in a long time. I was curious, so I got out and had a look around. There were five or six big fallen trees blocking the path, and since I was in bare feet I didn’t explore for too long. I committed the realtor’s phone number to memory and finished my paddle in the rain.
I was off in Hungary for a World Cup event a few weeks later, when my cellphone rang. I decided it was worth the roaming fees and answered it. The real estate agent on the line asked if the inquiry I’d made a few weeks back was in earnest, or if I was just curious. I didn’t quite know how to respond, mostly because I had, to understate the case, limited experience in real estate deals. At the time I didn’t even own a car and had never owned much more than a bike and a few kayaks, so the prospect of owning land (or even a lease, as is the case in Algonquin) was a little beyond my scope of comprehension. One thing I did know was that there are only 300 odd cottage leases in the park, and it’s very rare that they are ever exchanged outside family lines, let alone sold through a realtor. If I were ever going to be an Algonquin leaseholder, this was likely my one and only shot. So, after I called my parents and they said I wasn’t crazy for considering it, I went ahead and purchased the lease. Over the telephone, from Hungary. After seeing it once, in the rain, in my bare feet. Oh, and I won the World Cup race. It was a really good weekend.
The cabin that became mine was built sometime in the 1940s by two men who worked at a nearby summer camp. Legend has it that the spruce logs they used for the cabin were from some land the camp cleared for a baseball diamond. There’s still a little rock cairn on the outskirts of my plot dedicated to a guy named Bookie, who died far too young, more than 60 years ago. The dedication reads: “Bookie loved and enjoyed Algonquin Park, may you have a similar experience.” And I do. The gentleman who owned the cabin had passed away shortly before I assumed ownership of his lease. So as I found it, when I was home from my European racing tour, the cabin had been left as though he meant to be back sometime soon. A book was lying open on the counter, and some hand tools were on the floor. The door to the propane fridge was propped open with a stick, and some clean dishes had been left to dry.
A rundown log cabin was what initially drew van Koeverden’s attention while he was out for a paddle four years ago. It’s mouse-infested, so is now only used for storage. Like most other cottagers, van Koeverden uses his cabin as a place of escape—especially important for someone who travels so often for work. Next stop: London, England, for the 2012 Summer Olympic Games. Photo by Daniel Ehrenworth/Cottage Life.
There was (and still is) a tremendous amount of work to be done. In the time since he had been gone, storms had whipped through the property and knocked over some sizeable trees. I bought a chainsaw, after I came to realize that the effort involved in reducing fallen mature maples to firewood with a handsaw far exceeds the amount necessary for building that brand of character that I referred to earlier. I’m an environmentalist, but chainsaws are incredibly useful tools. Until Al Gore invents a solar-powered Stihl, I’m just going to indulge in a few extra carbon offsets every year; I’m not trading in my orange monster for an eco Mennonite handsaw anytime soon.
My family didn’t own a cottage when I was growing up. I spent the summers of my youth at different camps, at my uncle’s apple orchard, and at the cottages of family friends. And, since 1995, all of my summers have been spent training and competing. But, for as long as I can remember, having a cottage of my own, with lakes to paddle on, has been one of my dream goals. When it became a reality, my younger brother and a few great friends quickly came on board. My brother, Luke, and I love the idea of a long-term, maybe lifelong, project. The cabin has really brought us together, as brothers and as friends. We’re always talking about what needs work (everything), what he saw in a magazine for the cabin, or what kind of picnic table belongs on the deck. (We got the hexagonal kind, the best for eating—and for cards.)
During my first autumn with the cabin, my good friend Anders came from Sweden for a visit, and he helped me clear some fallen trees with his Viking brawn. As we sat on the dock with a beer, he told me that my place was “lagom.”
I hadn’t heard the word before, and he explained that it’s a Swedish word without a direct English equivalent; it roughly translates to “just enough for everyone,” with the implication of some found simple perfection. So that is what I call the place: Lagom Lodge.
My first year or so of Lagom leaseholdership was characterized mainly by discovery and cleaning up. The second and third were for planning and learning how to build things, and for making mistakes (which I’m certain will persist in the coming years, as I don’t seem to learn from them). This past autumn was my fourth as a leaseholder. It was the first year that the cottage truly functioned as a place on its own, for me. I have a drinking water tank, a few decent beds, a Scrabble board, and an outhouse. I have everything I need to prepare fairly edible food and do the washing; I’m getting caveman-good at starting fires. I don’t have any ambitions for hydro or a well. I could see having a gravity-fed tank for a little water pressure, and maybe a solar panel because, of course, the kids will need to charge their cellphones (I need to charge my cellphone).
The Birdhouse, so named because van Koeverden thinks it looks like a child’s version of an avian abode, is the first building he erected at his Algonquin Park property. “It’s as simple as a building can get,” he says. Being green was a priority: The windows and doors are recycled, he used only no-VOC paint, and he removed just one small tree to clear the site. Photo by Daniel Ehrenworth/Cottage Life
Two summers ago, my brother and I built a barrel sauna from a kit that I got from the Pennsylvania Dutch around Creemore, Ont. (Creemore is also the beer of choice at Lagom Lodge). The sauna gets pretty hot, so it extends our swimming season by a month or so. After that project, we were fairly proud of ourselves and sufficiently ambitious to build what we call the Birdhouse, a simple, 250-sq.-ft. cabin with a steel roof and a deck out front. It’s up on stilts just high enough so you get a lake view out the window from both top bunks. I painted the floor kelly green (since that’s the favourite colour of my best friend, Sarah) and last fall I installed a little Norwegian JØtul stove. Now I don’t need to start an outdoor fire for a morning coffee, or sleep with a toque on in October. Luxury! The Birdhouse isn’t insulated, but I’m going to do something about that in the fall.
Since Lagom Lodge is exclusively water access, every project takes a little longer; all materials are loaded, unloaded, and carried at least seven times, which is surprisingly gratifying. I am very lucky to have Michael, the dog, for company and protection, as well as many strong friends who enjoy doing physical activity in the form of manual labour. I only ask that they bring proper footwear, and in exchange, I’ll feed them and provide a fairly comfortable place to sleep. Michael still stays on the floor, though. Unless it’s really cold, and then he’s allowed to sleep at my feet.
A friend of mine told me that my stories about cabin life reminded him of Walden by Henry David Thoreau. I wanted to read it, so I went to a book- store in Toronto to buy a copy for Lagom Lodge. But they were sold out. The next time I was up, I went to find the book that had been left open on the counter. Turns out, the old man had left me a copy. Serendipity!
Of all the amazing places I’ve been fortunate enough to paddle—from the Queen Charlotte Islands in BC to the fjords of Norway and the Niger River in Mali, from the waters around Alcatraz and under the Golden Gate Bridge to the Gold Coast of Australia, and in gold medal races on countless rivers, lakes, and racecourses in Europe, Asia, and North and South America—Algonquin Park is the most perfect. It is my home, and will be until at least 2017 when the leases are up, and, McGuinty willing, for many years after.
It is simply always where I want to be when I am not there.
I am drawn to it, its fascinating history and natural beauty, through the core of my being. When I eat a fish from the lake or drink from a stream, when I feel the moss and dirt between my toes and breathe the crisp air, I’m laying roots down deep into the bedrock. I am sharing something with Algonquin, and with everyone who loves and enjoys the park. When I leave my dock and look back as I turn the corner from South Tea Lake— whether I’ve left a kayak wake on the water or ski tracks in the snow—I know I will be returning soon. Walden is still sitting open on my table there. I haven’t finished it yet. Not the book, not the cabin, not the dream. I hope they’re never finished. I hope the work endures and continues to gratify me and everyone who paddles over for a coffee. You’re welcome anytime. Just bring your work boots.
This story was originally published in the Summer 2012 issue celebrating 25 years of Cottage Life.
No Cottage Life party is complete without a martini made by founder Al Zikovitz—it’ll get the party started, if you catch our drift. Make your own, and raise a glass to 35 years with us! (CL will not be held responsible for behaviour under the influence of Al’s martini.)
Pour Tanqueray, straight up with a twist, very cold, very dry. No vermouth. Add to a shaker with lots of ice (then double what you added, because that’s how Al rolls).
Mix
Shake until your hands freeze. Pour into a martini glass, then squeeze the zest from a fresh lemon peel until you can see the oil floating on the gin. Rub the peel on the rim. (“When you bring the martini up to your mouth, you’ll want the enjoy the aroma too,” says Al.)
Drink
“I normally enjoy one down at the dock around sunset.”
Party
“For over 20 years, we’ve hosted an annual party. The first year, I made less than 10 martinis for our guests. In 2019, I served up close to four litres.”
