Author: Cottage Life

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Cottage Life

35th anniversary celebration: I can’t imagine the cottage without Google Maps

Illustration by Katie Hicks

Into the early 2000s, we published a series of “Classics.” The writer would argue for something that you could not live at the lake without—watermelon, beach towels, a beloved web chair. Twenty years on, we’re asking, what are the new cottage classics?

Every so often, I’ll find my cottage on Google Maps, go into satellite mode, and then float around like a ghost, observing things from above.

It’s a strange way to visit nature, isn’t it? I’m using technology that is literally out of this world—multi-million-dollar orbital cameras. It’s an alien’s-eye view of the landscape. Yet this is precisely what makes it so wonderfully revealing: looking down from space, you behold cottage country like a minor god.

My cottage sits near the tip of Presqu’ile Point, a peninsula that juts into the northeast corner of Lake Ontario. I grew up hunting for snakes in the woods and watching herons with wings the size of car doors take flight.

My older neighbours, one cottage over, would explain to us kids how Presqu’ile contained critical and endangered wetlands; it was why nobody was allowed to go deep into the marshes behind the trees, for fear of upsetting the ecological balance. I was a dutifully environmental kid, so I obeyed. Peering down from space now, I can see in a fresh way the beauty and fragility of those wetlands—the tendrils of bullrush-thick marsh reaching out into the lake like graceful fingers, the gothic darkness of the murky water just offshore.

Satellites show you secrets. Looking at your cottage from above, you realize how much of the surrounding land you’ve never really visited. You couldn’t have; it’s dense forest, which—as the deer know—is great for concealing things.

From space, the woods cough up their mysteries. I’ve met cottagers who were startled to discover, on Google Maps, entire dwellings they were previously unaware of, not far from theirs. One found a small gravesite deep in the forest; another, a hidden stream. And satellite vision can be a way to spy on your neighbours, like a low-rent James Bond: Hmmm, those folks across the lake added one heck of a deck.
Peering down from above, you also grasp just how damn huge is the Canadian wilderness, and how tiny, comparatively, are the parts we occupy. I’ve gone on virtual “hikes,” zooming down close on my cottage then slowly scrolling farther and farther north, until—15 minutes later—I’ve travelled so deep into the Ontario north, I haven’t seen even a dirt road for miles and miles. You can feel lost, pleasantly so, in a digital map.

These days, when you visit the cottage, go stargazing. You’ll see some of the lights zipping across the sky. Wave at them: those are your eyes now, looking down.

35th anniversary celebration: An ode to the dock spider sweatshirt

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Cottage Life

Tay Township, Ont. considering zoning bylaw for docks

Photo by Shutterstock/David Wayne Buck

On August 10, during a Protective and Development Services meeting in Tay Township, Ont., Todd Weatherell, the township’s manager of planning and development services, broached the idea of introducing a zoning bylaw for docks.

Currently, Tay Township has no zoning bylaws pertaining to docks, meaning there’s no limit on the length, width, and height of a dock, or how many docks can be on the property. You also don’t need a permit to build or rebuild a dock.

Weatherell, who started working for Tay Township last September, says he’s never seen a building permit for a dock pass through his office. “We only regulate the setback,” he says, which is how close to the water you can build a structure from your property line.

Weatherell used to work for the Township of Georgian Bay, which does have bylaws around dock size. For properties in the township with frontage on Georgian Bay, docks with a ramp can’t be longer than 26 metres or wider than four metres. These measurements do differ depending on location.

Seeing the Township of Georgian Bay’s bylaws did, in part, motivate Weatherell to bring forward the suggestion, but it was also in response to a July 27 town council presentation made by a resident unhappy with the size of his neighbour’s newly rebuilt dock. The resident claimed that the dock blocked his view of Georgian Bay, and suggested that the township introduce permits for docks.

The dock in question measures 90 metres in length and includes a railing. But according to the dock’s owner, there are reasons for its size. The dock was rebuilt on a new crib, raising the front eight inches and the end six inches. This is to prevent the dock from being swept away by high water levels, which is what happened to the last dock, the owner says. Otherwise, the dock’s length and width are the exact same as they’ve been for the last 20 years.

The reason for the extensive length is that the dock is built on shallow water. The only way to keep a boat on the property was to extend the dock out into deeper waters. As for the railing, the owner, who’s 87, says he’s unable to walk without a support. The railing allows him to continue enjoying his dock.

With an increasing number of baby boomers retiring to cottage country, and water levels, especially in the Great Lakes, impacted by climate change, Tay Township will have to consider a variety of factors if it does decide to implement dock zoning bylaws.

“We’re looking into potentially creating bylaws that will enforce length and setbacks, but again, that will be up to council and planning, and subject to a public meeting process,” Weatherell says.

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Cottage Life

Goderich mayor dies in boating accident in Northern Ontario

Photo Courtesy of John C. Grace/Facebook

The Town of Goderich is in mourning. The town’s mayor, John C. Grace was found dead in Lake St. Joseph— north of Thunder Bay, Ont.—after his boat capsized.

Grace and his family have spent their summers operating Old Post Lodge, a fishing lodge on Lake St. Joseph, since 1986. On the morning of Aug. 9, Grace headed out onto the lake in his barge to pick up fuel for the lodge. When Grace didn’t return, the police were contacted.

Around 11 a.m., officers from the Pickle Lake detachment of the Ontario Provincial Police (OPP) responded to the call. Officers found the capsized barge, but there was no sign of Grace. Members of the Northwest Emergency Response Team, Underwater Search and Recovery Unit, and the Nishnawbe Aski Police Service were brought in to assist.

Lake St. Joseph spans 148 kilometres and is primarily remote wilderness, making for a difficult search. After several hours, officers located Grace’s body in the water where he was declared dead.

The Pickle Lake OPP, along with the Ministry of Labour and the Ministry of the Environment, are investigating the incident. There were reports of high winds that day making for dangerous conditions on the water, but it’s currently unclear whether that played a role in capsizing the barge, said Const. Andrea Degagne of the Sioux Lookout detachment.

On Wednesday morning, the Town of Goderich, which sits on the shore of Lake Huron, an hour-and-a-half drive northeast of Kitchener, and has a population of just over 7,500, released a statement about Grace’s death.

“The town acknowledges John’s devotion and contributions to the town of Goderich. John enhanced the fabric of the town and enriched the lives of many, far beyond our community. John was committed to his family and the community. He was a man of the people through and through,” the statement read.

Born in Goderich, Grace served as a town councillor for 17 years before being elected mayor in 2018, gaining approximately 50 per cent of the vote. He played a pivotal role in helping Goderich rebuild its downtown after a tornado ripped through the area in 2011, and provided strong leadership through the last several years of COVID-19, the town’s statement said.

Allan Thompson, the head of Carleton University’s journalism program, remembers Grace as the type to run across Goderich’s town square when he saw you, just to say hello. The two men became friends when Thompson ran for the Liberal nomination in Huron-Bruce County back in 2014.

“[He] went out of his way to show up at my housewarming party—with a gift of wild rice from his beloved Pickle Lake,” Thompson said in an email. “He became a strong supporter of my campaign as a federal Liberal candidate—attending events, campaigning for me, even hosting an event at his home. When most municipal politicians are squeamish about partisan politics, John wore his progressive colours on his sleeve, even if it might have cost him votes at the municipal level.”

Duncan Jewell, the campaign manager for Grace’s mayoral election, says Grace was well-liked in the community; raising money for various fundraising initiatives and always putting the people of Goderich first.

“He was the type to grab an issue by the horns and run with it,” Jewell says.

During his time as mayor, Grace focused on keeping youth in the community, bringing new business to Goderich, and developing housing in the area.

On June 30, Grace declared his intention to run for mayor again in the town’s October election.

Without Grace, Deputy Mayor Myles Murdock will take on the responsibilities of mayor until Goderich’s next council meeting on August 22. During that meeting, the town’s councillors will decide how to move forward until the October election.

Grace is survived by his wife, Wendy, and their three sons.

“John was a bright light, and he will be dearly missed,” the town said.

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Cottage Life

Plastic producers launch lawsuit to reverse Canada’s ban on single-use plastics

Photo by Shutterstock/Mr.anaked

Thirty-three plastic-producing companies have banded together to fight the Canadian government’s decision to ban certain single-use plastics. On July 15, the group, known as the Responsible Plastic Use Coalition (RPUC), filed a lawsuit against the Canadian government, asking the federal courts to repeal the ban.

Canada’s Environment Minister Steven Guilbeault and Health Minister Jean-Yves Duclos published the ban’s final regulations in June. The regulations target checkout bags, cutlery, takeout containers, stir sticks, straws, and six-pack rings.

Starting December 2022, manufacturing and importing these plastics will be banned. Businesses will have until December 2023 to deplete their stocks. After that, it will be prohibited to sell the items. And the government has said it will ban the exporting of these plastics by the end of 2025.

What RPUC takes issue with is that under the Canadian Environmental Protection Act (CEPA) plastic pollution is now considered “toxic”.

“The federal government designated all plastic manufactured items as toxic, a designation we believe is not only inaccurate but could have far-reaching and unintended consequences. Canadians rely on plastic to sustain everyday life—from eyeglasses to diapers, to water piping, to computers, phones, and baby bottles,” the coalition wrote on its website. “We believe there are far more impactful policy solutions to divert waste from our natural environment.”

RPUC did not respond to comment when asked to elaborate on its alternative policy solutions.

When asked about the lawsuit by Cottage Life, Environment Minister Steven Guilbeault said over email: “Recently, a group of plastic companies filed another lawsuit against the Government of Canada, this time to try and stop the government’s ban on harmful single-use plastics. That’s their choice. Our choice is to stay focused on fighting plastic pollution and on fighting for our environment. And we’re confident the courts will agree with our position.”

The decision to label plastic pollution as toxic came after the government published a scientific assessment in 2020, concluding that “the improper management of plastic waste has led to plastics becoming ubiquitous in all major compartments of the environment.”

The assessment went on to say that plastic pollution has been detected on shorelines, and in surface waters, sediment, groundwater, soil, indoor and outdoor air, food, and drinking water. Approximately one per cent of plastic waste enters the environment each year. That was the equivalent of 29,000 tonnes of plastic in 2016. And since plastic degrades slowly, the amount of plastic pollution found in the environment increases over time.

This poses a serious risk to animals that ingest or become entangled in the plastic, often dying as a result. Ingestion can also impact the health of humans.

According to the federal government, 15 billion plastic checkout bags are used every year and approximately 16 million straws are used daily. By introducing a ban on these items, the government estimates that over the next decade it will eliminate 1.3 million tonnes of hard-to-recycle plastic waste and 22,000 tonnes of plastic pollution.

This is a step in the right direction, but more work needs to be done, said Karen Wirsig, the plastics program manager for the environmental advocacy group Environmental Defence, in a statement.

“Banning these plastics is the most effective way to solve the problem. Leading countries on every continent are implementing bans on plastics, so it’s good to see Canada keeping its promise to roll out bans here. But this is only the first of many steps the government must take to reach its goal of zero plastic waste by 2030. We’ll be looking for additional bans to address more single-use plastics that continue to plague the environment, as well as measures to ensure reuse and refill options are widely available,” she said.

Wirsig also commented on RPUC’s lawsuit, claiming that Environmental Defence was appalled by the coalition’s actions. “The plastics industry insists that better waste collection and recycling are the answer but after years of failed recycling efforts, it’s never been more obvious that plastic pollution is not a waste management problem. These bans are the first clear sign that making and using less plastic is not only possible, but doable and necessary.”

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The secret every paddler should know: the science of gunwale bobbing

By marekuliasz/Shutterstock

Perhaps you too were routinely chastised by a camp counsellor for standing up in a canoe. But a group of scientists wants you to forget all that and take a stand on gunwale bobbing.

Gunwale bobbing (pronounced “gunnel”—“one of the delights is its funny spelling,” says Stephen Morris, a physics professor at the University of Toronto) is an odd pursuit with little purpose beyond novelty, the glee of thumbing your nose at dictatorial camp counsellors, and the chance to test a theory of quantum physics.

At least that was partly the motivation of Jerome Neufeld, a professor of earth and planetary fluid dynamics at the University of Cambridge and a cottager on Muldrew Lake. Neufeld remembered gunwale bobbing from his childhood—the goal then was to see who ended up in the lake first—and decided to pass down the pursuit to his kids.

Is the canoe the most beloved icon of the cottage?

Gunwale bobbing involves standing up in a canoe and creating waves by bouncing up and down, then riding those waves to move the canoe forward. Or, more academically, it’s “a phenomenon in which a person jumping on the gunwales of a canoe achieves horizontal propulsion by forcing it with vertical oscillations,” as described in the American Physics Society’s journal Physical Review Fluids.

Neufeld routinely finds himself “explaining fluid phenomena in the natural world,” he says. Gunwale bobbing turned into the perfect opportunity to demonstrate how a particle can be both a wave and a particle, a vexing ancient problem in quantum mechanics.

Physicists came up with a demonstration a few years ago, using liquid. The demo showed that if you shake a layer of fluid, and you put a little droplet of fluid on its surface, instead of just falling into the fluid, the droplet bounces up and down. “And that little bouncy drop can start to ‘walk’, to move across the fluid,” says Morris.

It was Jerome, Morris says, who noticed that the reason that the droplet moves is simply that it makes waves and then “surfs” on those waves. Neufeld summarizes it this way: “Long story short, the droplet and its wave then behave like a quantum particle/wave, and so can mimic many nanometre scale phenomena.”

How to calculate distance over water using physics

Fast forward to Neufeld holidaying and gunwale bobbing at his Muskoka-area cottage. The canoe, he realized, was doing the same thing as that surfing droplet. The physicists, great fans of wordplay, call it the “quantum canoe.”

When Neufeld, Morris, and their research colleagues got together to produce their paper on the bouncing droplet, the Powers That Be at the journal in which it was published wouldn’t greenlight mention of the quantum canoe. But it does use the same math, Morris says.

Though I, a Canadian, had never heard of it, Morris insists that “gunwale bobbing is a Canadian thing.” And it’s a Canadian thing that fellow Canadian, Neufeld, thought “needed an explanation.”

The applications of this research varies from better understanding the energy created by boat wake (and thus shoreline issues) or even ways that Olympic canoeists can increase their speed.

But, says Neufeld, “Being able to explain the physics of the phenomena is, honestly, mostly fun and I’m delighted there are fun new ways the kids can viscerally explore waves when they’re playing in the water at the cottage.”

Watch Jerome Neufeld’s one-minute video on gunwale bobbing.

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Cottage Life

Cottage Q&A: Portable saunas vs bylaws

By Dmitry Modestov/Shutterstock

We want to set up one of those portable tent saunas that are heated by a woodstove. Do we need a permit for this? Are there any other bylaws governing them at the cottage?—Sidney Indy, via email

There could be. “As always, an owner should communicate with the local authority having jurisdiction,” says Marty Herbert, the team leader with building and bylaw services for B.C.’s Columbia Shuswap Regional District. Bylaws can vary between municipalities, and just because a tent sauna doesn’t meet the definition of “building” under your provincial building code (which means you likely wouldn’t need a permit), your local building authority or fire department might still have restrictions.

Buy the Way: This family saved money by buying land and building a yurt

Under zoning bylaws, some jurisdictions could consider the tent a “structure,” and as such, “it needs to comply with all applicable zoning provisions,” says Noella Floyd-Foulds, a permit clerk with the building department and bylaw enforcement for Dysart et al., Ont. “We wouldn’t regulate how long you can keep it up, but it would need to meet all water, lot line, and septic setbacks,” she says. “On our typical waterfront lots, these setbacks would be 20 or 30 metres from the water, 4.5 metres from side lot lines, and five metres from a septic distribution field.”

As for potential fire bylaws, it’s possible that burning or campfire restrictions could apply, says Herbert. (Your municipality might treat the woodstove as an outdoor fire.)

Is incinerating paper waste environmentally acceptable?

Mike Peake, a fire prevention officer for the town of Bracebridge, Ont., says that his department certainly wouldn’t do any kind of inspection on a tent sauna. That’s not because there aren’t any possible fire risks, but because a tent sauna wouldn’t require it under the Ontario Fire Code. Still, you are putting a woodstove inside of a tent. Yes, the stove is designed for the tent, and yes, the tent—unlike a regular camping tent—is designed to withstand the stove’s heat. But, “I feel this in itself may become risky over time as people become complacent,” says Peake. “I would highly recommend to anyone owning these saunas to strictly abide by the manufacturer’s installation, care, and maintenance instructions,” he says. “And make sure that you never let your guard down.”

Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.

This article was originally published in the August 2022 issue of Cottage Life.

 

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Cottage Life

3 fixes for malfunctioning fans

By Africa Studio/Shutterstock

Like any appliance, you don’t really think about the fans in your house until they’re not working. And, according to Murphy’s Law, a house or cottage fan will stop working precisely when you need it the most. Here are some tips and tricks to keep your room and ceiling fans running, and potential DIY fixes for when they conk out.

1) Power fails

The first step in figuring out why a fan isn’t working is to check the power supply. For room fans, make sure that a tug on the cord hasn’t pulled the plug out. Next, head to the fuse or circuit panel to make sure that hasn’t tripped. Finally, try plugging in a functioning appliance like a lamp or vacuum to test if the outlet itself is working.

If your ceiling fan remote doesn’t work, try replacing the batteries. If that’s not it, turn the power off, remove the canopy, and check to make sure none of the wiring connections have come apart.

If you turn on a fan and hear a humming sound but it won’t spin—or your ceiling fan lights work but the motor won’t turn—the motor may be dead. Check with the manufacturer to see if a replacement motor is available. Depending on the quality of the fan, it may be more cost-effective to buy a new one.

8 tune-ups to extend the life of your appliances

2) Wobbly fans

An off-balance ceiling fan can be noisy and eventually damage the motor. Start by gently cleaning off any dust that’s accumulated on the top and edges of the blades.

Next, tighten all the screws holding the blades in place. You’ll also want to remove the canopy cover so you can tighten the mounting screws holding the unit to the ceiling.

While you’re up on the ladder, measure the distance from the tip of each blade to the ceiling. They should all be within about 1/8” of each other. If not, tighten the screws that hold the blade brackets to the motor to level them up.

If that doesn’t work, buy a fan balancing kit. These come with a plastic clip to that you attach to the blades one at a time, turning the fan on each time to try to figure out which blade is unbalanced. Once you’ve done that, attach one of the stick-on weights included in the kit to correct the issue.

It’s time to fix that wobbly chair leg

3) Noisy fans

Tightening all the screws on your ceiling fan might help eliminate any noises. If not, try spraying some silicone lubricant on the bearings.

If you hear a clinking sound while your ceiling fan is spinning, tighten the nuts that hold the glass globes in place. If that doesn’t fix the problem, the bulbs you’re using might be too big for the fixture.

How to fix a blown fuse on your stove

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Cottage Life

Help! I’m bored of board games

By Shchus/Shutterstock

Q: “My family loves playing board games at the cottage, but I’m not a fan. I think most games are boring. (My sister says I’m a “weirdo.”) I will play one or two rounds to be a good sport, but I usually just end up reading a book while they play. How can I suggest switching things up without taking away from their fun?”

A: Board games are enduring fixtures of pretty much every cottage place, filling drawers and closets and blanket boxes with a geological record of game-dom that can reach back to a Parcheesi board that has been in the family since the Boer War. Even people who don’t play games at their regular homes will have a hoard of cardboard entertainments up at the lake, which is a bit odd, but maybe it’s because the family cottage is the one place where enough people gather to provide the critical mass you need for board game play. It really doesn’t matter, though, because board games, like s’mores and sunburn and mosquito repellant, having been specifically named in the Book of Cottage, are mandatory things. So it is written.

I think some cottagers who don’t really like board games will play them if necessary, usually to appease a bored child or to “be a good sport,” as you have already noted. So, no, you are not a weirdo. Personally, I dislike most board games because of their utter pointlessness, with moves controlled by cards or dice, and little in the way of mental stimulation. Think Candy Land or Pop-O-Matic Trouble. Risk is all about global domination, which sounds like the best thing ever, but even if you win the game, you actually end up dominating nothing but a sheet of cardboard and some plastic game pieces. And that’s after playing a game that can take days to finish. But what do I know? When I was a child, my very favourite games were Mousetrap and Rattle Battle, mostly because they involved noisy contraptions that drove adults nuts.

I would guess that most cottagers truly do like board games, if only because they represent togetherness and family tradition.  I also suspect some people play games because they must always be active and organized and are patently unable to relax and do nothing. Why some people love games more than others is a mystery, but we do know one thing for sure: there are about a gazillion different board games out there in the Fun-O-Verse, both old and new. Maybe if you could find a new game, one that you might actually enjoy, you could join in the cottage fun without having to suffer through two hours playing Clue where, spoiler alert, it was Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the library.

Check out these four movies based on board games

One way you could escape the misery of Cards Against Humanity or Hungry Hungry Hippos is to get your cottage crew into some games that are more active and less board. For example, I would rather play darts than Bananagrams any day of the week. (Actually, I would rather eat a bran muffin studded with broken glass than play Bananagrams, but that’s just me.) Why not shake things up with proper old-timey action games like horseshoes or ring toss or croquet or lawn darts? Cornhole anyone? I hear the hip kids are even throwing axes at wooden targets these days. Does anybody play mumblety-peg any more? Maybe it’s time to start.

Another way to up your game, so to speak, is to play for real money. The stake amounts are entirely arbitrary so you can play for pennies or real polymer banknotes. Do consider, however, that the higher the stakes, the more exciting your games will become, which translates into a higher level of emotional investment and better motivation. For example, regular Monopoly, using Monopoly money, can be super boring because, well, what’s the point? But swap that cartoon cash for Canadian Pesos and things get real interesting, real fast. Like when your judgemental sister checks into your new hotel on Marvin Gardens. “Who’s the weirdo now, Marcia? You owe me 1,200 bucks!” 

The application of real currency to board games is truly transformative. Trust me. Normally I wouldn’t give two hoots if you sunk my battleship. But if you sunk my battleship and now I can’t pay my car insurance because I owe you $900? Well, that’s another, more exciting, kettle of fish entirely, isn’t it?

A lot of the time, cottage board game play is all about keeping children occupied. Which is great, because playing games with children for real money can be tons of fun. Kids are so naive. With really small ones, you can convince them, for example, that your loonie is worth more than their toonie. What’s the harm? For youngsters, the artificial construct of currency is just an abstraction, like the Tooth Fairy. Without being braggy, I will tell you that I am pretty good at Scrabble. But when I play against 10-year-olds, I am all but unbeatable, which is a very nice feeling indeed. Plus, I get to walk away with some extra cash in my jeans. The pay-it-forward benefit when you play children for real money is that you are actually doing them a favour. Beating a grade schooler at Jenga is one thing. But beating her at Jenga and taking $15 worth of Grandma’s birthday money teaches humility and how to appreciate the value of a dollar.

Creative ways to keep your kids occupied when cabin fever strikes

There’s a good chance you won’t be able to change your family’s board game habits. And I doubt you will turn into a game-lover overnight. So you might just want to stick with the status quo and read your books while others play. But if you truly want to warm up to the games thing, a good place to start is with a liberal application of alcohol. Adults only, of course, and here’s the thing: Pong was one of the first video games ever invented, yet nobody remembers it anymore. But when someone added beer to the equation, Beer Pong became the biggest party game in cottage country. It really cracked the code. That’s why playing Snakes and Ladders is dull and can lead to murmuring sadness, but navigating the same board with a pitcher of margaritas is super fun, even when you lose. You could even “gin up” some theme game nights with combos like Mojito Othello or Pina Colada Pictionary. Who wouldn’t love to play Trivial Pursuit of Zinfandel? The same way some good gravy can tune up a milquetoast meatloaf, a touch of tipple can make a good board game better and a bad one bearable. It’s a game changer.

This article was originally published in the August 2022 issue of Cottage Life.

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Cottage Life

35th anniversary celebration: An ode to the dock spider sweatshirt

Illustration by Katie Hicks

Into the early 2000s, we published a series of “Classics.” The writer would argue for something that you could not live at the lake without—watermelon, beach towels, a beloved web chair. Twenty years on, we’re asking, what are the new cottage classics?

A cool, late-summer morning in the early ’80s: I was a cottage newbie, recently introduced to lake life by my soon-to-become-spouse, Steve. We had just pushed off on a leisurely paddle—I was a rank beginner at canoeing too—when after only a couple of strokes, Steve headed us straight to a neighbouring dock. “I don’t want to upset you,” he said (which alone was enough to upset me), “but I think when we got in, a dock spider got in with us.”

Right. Me, in a 14-ft. canoe with the largest spidey species in Canada, and the ones I’d seen on our dock were particularly healthy specimens. The size of salad plates—hairy salad plates, with venom. Steve, who grew up in cottage country, had assured me they weren’t aggressive, but this was no time to take a chance. I leapt onto the neighbours’ dock, peeled off my jeans, tee, and everything else, and began to shake and shimmy from the shoulders on down. Apparently, it was quite the dance routine. Luckily, the neighbours missed it. Luckily, the spider (if one really had hitched a ride with us) got away.

Fast forward to the early ’90s: I was the editor of Cottage Life, and Steve was its art director. We were in a meeting discussing CL merchandise. “How about we do a sweatshirt with the logo on it?” someone suggested.

Steve, who clearly hadn’t forgotten that delightful scene on the neighbours’ dock—he still claims it was the fastest he’s ever seen me undress—said, “Boring. Needs attitude. How about a sweatshirt with a dock spider?”

“Beside the logo,” someone else said.

“Nah,” Steve replied. “On the back. So it’s climbing up on your shoulder, like you don’t know it’s there.”

The spider wouldn’t merely be printed on the sweatshirt. Verisimilitude required that it be done in fuzzy flocking to achieve the hairy effect; and it would be life-sized, of course—all the better to horrify someone approaching from behind.

And so a classic was born. On the sidewalks of cottage-country towns and at the annual Cottage Life Shows, I’d exchange knowing smiles with other members of the Spider Sweatshirt Society. The original run eventually sold out, to be replaced by a less, uh, realistic version, with a flat, printed-on spider. But I hear that people are still showing up at the Cottage Life booth today with their classic sweatshirts on. Mine, sadly, was retired to the ragbag years ago, its dock spider bare of fuzz, worn down to a faint shadow that wouldn’t even alarm an arachnophobe.

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The unforgettable cottage sound that triggers nostalgia

Photo by MarieKaz/Shutterstock

Much has been written about the properties of sound at the cottage; how the smallest noises can carry a long way on a quiet night. Of those sounds, the slam of the screen door ranks right up there with the warble of the loon as a quintessential sound of summer. At our place, a rambling ex-fishing lodge with eight screen doors at last count, the quintessential doors easily outnumber the quintessential waterbirds. Not surprisingly, my family’s ability to deduce the sound of one screen door from another has been raised to a high art, a skill that lets us know who’s doing what even when we’re tucked in bed or reading on the porch.

The two easiest doors to identify are the aluminum storm doors that swoosh out on spring-loaded chains then swing back in measured time on their hydraulic arms. On a quiet night their hiss, pause, hiss, pause… smash! travels all the way to the dock and probably a mile upriver.

The wooden slammer on the front porch has a different voice. A DIY special that doesn’t quite compensate for the porch floor’s eccentricities, it opens with a sticky scrape—and stays open until forcibly closed. Listening from the hill cabin, you hear the ker-plonk of the slammer mechanism opening, the scrape of the door on the floor, then the bomp-de-bomp of footsteps down the stairs. Pause. Muffled curse. Footsteps back up the stairs, another scrape, a closing ker-plonk, and a final trot down the steps.

The screen door on the back shed off our kitchen behaves like a cross between a wooden slammer and an aluminum eyesore. It ker-plonks just like a real door, but its springy chain stretches taut and whips the door back again. In the quiet of the night it can be identified by its dead-sounding slam. Ker-plonk… the guitar-tuning noises of the spring stretching… then ka-THUMP as it thuds shut, followed by the rattling of basins and washtubs against the shed walls.
Years ago, we used to have another screen door, leading off the other side of the front porch down towards the lower cabin, a slouching piece of cottage architecture whose wobbly door needs two spring slammers, a swift kick, and a cuss-word just to close properly. You could actually follow the audible trail of someone leaving the lower cabin, entering the old front-porch door, heading into the cottage, and exiting out the back shed by the cacophony of ker-plonks, scrapes, hisses, smashes, ka-THUMPs and wash-basin rattles as they passed through a series of four screen doors.

Our cover story this issue is “Grand Slam!,” Charles Long’s instructive article on how to build your own classic cedar screen door. In fact, it’s such a fine door that I actually toyed with the idea of replacing some of our geriatric slammers with nice new models. But Charles’ article makes no mention of the door’s particular intonation. Is it a high and hollow whap! like the door on our hilltop cabin? Or more of a back-shed ka-THUMP? Could a brand-new mechanism possibly reproduce the rusty ka-tank of my own cabin door being opened? Would it scrape just so, letting us know someone has gone to read on the porch?
A bunch of new screen doors would probably just keep me awake all summer as I tried to figure out their individual voices. Or, worse yet, what if they made no noises at all? Without the reassuring sounds of familiar screen doors, I’d be lost in the woods.

This essay originally appeared as the Editor’s Note in the September/October ’98 issue of Cottage Life.