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You can often tell when a cottager has arrived by the signature clack, clomp, or flip-flop of their footwear. Your choice of footwear (or lack thereof) is usually a good indication of the type of cottager you are. On the Cottage Life team, our main concern when it comes to cottage shoes and sandals is practicality. Whether you are getting in and out of the water, navigating tree roots, or boating, our team’s shoes and sandals of choice are suitable for just about any situation you might find yourself in.
“Tevas4eva. I love Tevas because they are lightweight and work on any terrain. They also dry super fast, so I can take them to the beach. The best part is you can easily loop them on the outside of a backpack to bring them wherever you go. Plus, they are kind of trendy now, so I can keep up with my cottage fashion game.”—Marie Waine, assistant editor
“As someone who is accident-prone, I tend to favour cottage shoes that are quick-drying and will protect my feet from splinters or falling objects. These Sperry’s tick all of the boxes and are great for unexpected wading because they have drainage holes in the soles and the interior and exterior materials wick away water.”—Megan McPhaden, managing editor
“Salomon hiking boots! Not exactly loungers, but super great for any kind of outdoor adventure. I like mine for two reasons: the mid-rise and the Gore-Tex. Mid-rise shoes are lightweight and less restrictive than clunky boots. Secondly, the Gore-Tex keeps my feet dry when hiking through the muck in the rain. (I don’t think anything is more miserable than spending a day in wet socks, so this is the biggest selling point for me.) I can’t find my exact pair, but these are close.”—Adam Beauchemin, content intern
“I am very no-frills about footwear at the cottage (I often wear beaten-up Nikes or Vans). Usually, I am either barefoot or have my water shoes on since the shoreline at my boyfriend’s cottage is quite slippery. These are the closest I could find to my favourite water shoes, mine are from Parky’s Dollar Store in Northbrook, Ont. I like the lightweight material and solid fabric versus knit or mesh for swimming better.”—Taylor Kristan, associate art director
“I like a hiking sandal because they’re not clunky, but they’re still grippy enough for slippery trails when it rains. Your feet end up filthy, but you also don’t have to wash any socks. Side note: I once tried to dry my wet hiking sandals in the warming compartment of our woodstove—didn’t work. They were just really hot but still wet—but that’s not the fault of the shoes, that’s on the woodstove.”—Jackie Davis, senior editor
“I like the cheap flip-flops from the dollar store, the ones that make a super-pleasing sound when you flip-flop around the deck wearing them. That’s the kind of hiking I’m into at the cottage.”—Michelle Kelly, editor
“I like crocs, they are easy to slip on, and they don’t make my feet hot. They work as water shoes and offer a bit of protection when walking around the grounds. Also, they are easy to kick off and jump in the lake.”—Bradley Reinhardt, art director
“It doesn’t matter if it’s summer or winter, I am wearing these walnut-coloured Blundstones to the cottage. While they are not hiking shoes, they are versatile and can handle all seasons and most weather conditions. They are lightweight and comfortable for hiking and outdoor adventures, and the leather makes them easier to keep clean.”—Aleeshia Carman, content intern
“They’re super comfy—they actually have arch support so you can walk on them for hours without your feet hurting. I like them much better than traditional Birks because they don’t give me blisters in the heat. They’re also adjustable, so it’s easy to wear socks with them (do not @ me). And they’re waterproof so you don’t have to worry about the water ruining them! I would buy them in every colour if I could.”—Alysha Vandertogt, senior associate editor
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Regardless of whether your cottage is located in a remote area or tight-knit community, you probably still have concerns about break-ins. Even when theft isn’t a big consideration—like when the highest ticket item in the cottage a hand-me-down sofa—having a security system is still a must.
Having a security system in place can protect you from the obvious (theft) but it can also alert you to animal break-ins and damages to your property, like burst pipes and flooding.
“I suggest to all my customers that they get an alarm system,”says Dan Moreau, who is a retired police officer and chief inspector and CEO of Cottage Choppers Property Service, in Barrie, ON. “If you don’t have one you’re vulnerable.”
It’s ultra-important to have someone check in on your property when you’re not there too—especially if you want to maintain your insurance coverage. “If you’re not having someone check on your policy on a regular basis, your policy may not cover you at all,” says Moreau. “Read the fine print in your insurance policy, especially where it relates to leaving a property vacant to unattended.”
Animals are a main concern
Moreau explains that breaks in are not a major worry of most of his clients, but animals, like racoons, mice and bats, can get into your cottage and wreak major havoc. “There are systems that go off if there is an animal intrusion,” says Moreau. “These include motion sensors, and many have sensitivity levels that can pick up anything bigger than a mouse.” There are also systems that include glass break sensors, in case of a human break-in, or if a bird flies into your window and breaks the glass.
No cell service, no problem
If your cottage is located in an area that won’t allow you to make a clear cell phone call or have WiFi, you can still get a security system. For most basic systems, all you need is the capability to run a landline telephone (remember those?). “You can get a landline telephone and run security through that,” says Moreau. This type of system is also quite cost-effective if you want a little security without breaking the bank. “Monitoring is where the expense comes from. An alarm company hires people to sit there and answer phones and charges you $25 to $30 a month for that service.”
If you go with a basic system, there are a few different ways it can work. A common one is that an alarm goes off dials a number, whether it’s your number in the city or one of your neighbours. That way you can hypothetically go check on the property should the alarm goes off.
However, Moreau advises proceeding with caution when checking on a break-in: If you hear your neighbour’s alarm going off, dial 911. If you see someone coming and going, try to get a description or license plate, but don’t approach them or attempt to make a citizens arrest.” Instead of putting yourself in danger, he says “aim to become a good witness.” And if you have a friend checking on your property, advise them to do the same.
Get a motion sensor light
At the least, a motion-sensor outdoor light never hurts as a deterrent, according to Moreau. “As a cop, a lot of the break and enters I’ve seen may have been prevented if they had a motion sensor light outside.”
Lock your boats
If you’re storing valuable boats in the garage or boathouse, invest in security for that space. “If you have an expensive boat, make sure it’s in an alarmed garage or boathouse,” says Moreau.
Watch out for water damage
Besides burglary and animals, water damage is another concern. “In winter, many people leave their water and heat on low, so it’s ready if they come up occasionally.” However, he explains that if the place isn’t being checked on regularly, and you happen to get an interruption in the heat source, pipes start freezing.” This can lead to all kinds of problems and potential water damage, so opt for a system with a water damage sensor and a low-temperate sensor if this is a concern.
Double up
Ideally, go for both a security system and a friend, neighbour or trust key-holder to check in on your property and have a system set up to keep you in the know, when you’re there and when you’re not.
When in doubt, cover it up
A lot of cottagers don’t have an alarm system—and they don’t really worry about it. If you’re one of these folks, Moreau advises you not to leave anything in your cottage that you can’t afford to lose. If you have to leave some goods behind, keep it low-key. “Anything of value should be covered, and keep your curtains closed,” says Moreau.
Here are some home security devices that include some of these features:
Image courtesy of Ring/Best Buy
All-in-one security system
This system includes a base station, keypad, four contact sensors and a motion detector. It can also send alerts to directly your phone or tablet, but there is the option to buy into a 24/7 monitoring plan for a monthly fee.
This handy battery-powered device can be placed wherever a leak is likely, such as near a sump pump, sink, basement drain or water heater. If it detects even a small amount of water, it notifies you—something that could end up saving you thousands of dollars in damages. It can also measure temperature, helping you stay ahead of frozen pipes, and humidity.
This easy-to-install, affordable system sets off an alert when doors or windows are opened. Great for alerting you to intruders and warning you if a small child leaves the cottage unexpectedly.
Not only can this light help you watch your step at night, but it can deter people from coming near your cottage. Plus, it conserves energy when not in use, and takes only minutes to install.
This battery-powered system with built-in sensor vibration alerts you, and deters intruders, with a 125-decibel alarm. The alarm can be used on standby for one year without having to change the battery.
This system includes four high-definition cameras that can be used both indoors and out. It also features motion detection and night vision technology, and it can be monitored using the Lorex app.
These low-maintenance alarms set off an audible sound to scare away cottage intruders when a door or window is opened. This package includes five alarms that you can place around your cottage property.
On-set art direction: Jackie Shipley; Food styling: Carol Dudar
You can make this flavourful, spring-y soup with fresh peas later in the summer, but since it’s equally delicious made with frozen ones, it’s a great option any time of year when you want to bring some punchy green flavours into your life. Don’t skip the feta crema—it’s a game changer garnish that really brings this simple soup alive. Try this with our rosemary parmesan drop biscuits. Makes 6–8 servings of soup.
2leeks (white and light green parts only), thinly sliced
5cupsfrozen peas
4cupsvegetable broth
1cupwater
½tspsalt
¼tsppepper
¼cupfresh mint leaves, packed
½cupsour cream
¼cupfinely crumbled feta cheese
½tsplemon zest
2tbsplemon juice
2tbspfinely chopped fresh chives
Instructions
In saucepan, melt butter over medium heat; cook leeks, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in peas, broth, water, salt, and pepper; bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer until the peas are soft, about 5 minutes. Stir in mint. Using blender or immersion blender, purée soup until smooth. (If using blender, leave the vent hole open and cover with tea towel while puréeing)
Stir together sour cream, feta, lemon zest, and juice (or purée for a creamier topping). Ladle soup into bowls and spoon feta mixture overtop. Sprinkle with chives.
Roy and Ellen, in 2019. Photo courtesy of the MacGregor family.
You see them everywhere when they’re missing. A favourite coffee mug…gardening gloves…an old raincoat…that rose just about to bloom…her paddle…
She’s there even when she isn’t. In fact, in this particular place, she’s here more than anywhere else.
We fell in love here at this little lake at the end of Limberlost Road. We honeymooned here 50 years ago this September. She had the jeweller inscribe a message on the inside of the rings we exchanged: “You and me, buds for all times.”
We were going to retire at the lake—two old “buds” on a last great adventure. Who knew that “for all times” would run out so quickly?
Ellen’s parents built this simple cottage in the late 1960s. Camp Lake is pretty and clean, with a long finger of a bay called Flossie Lake tickling into the western boundary of Algonquin Provincial Park. A lovely falls at the end of the bay delivers water clean enough to drink, and for years the family did. The water streams into Tasso Lake, then down the Big East River to Lake Vernon, where it eventually becomes the Muskoka River.
No running water. No telephone. An outhouse. A dock.
Ellen and her sister, Jackie, grew up here and then brought their own babies here. Ellen eventually inherited the cottage, dramatically improving it over the last quarter-century with our beloved local builder, John Streight. An extension to hold growing grandchildren. New sheds. New docks. A telephone. A pump to send water from the lake up to serve the new shower and toilet.
She insisted, however, that an outhouse was still a necessity—winter visits, summer power outages—and so she made a new one herself. I got to dig out the hole. She built the original deck as well, working a power saw while still managing four youngsters under the age of 10.
She’s everywhere, but nowhere so present as in the magnificent gardens she built by hauling massive boulders out from the bush. The kids always said she had “ox blood.”
Our daughter Kerry called from her home in France in the spring of 2021 to say she knew what the problem was, that clearly the doctors were giving Ellen the wrong blood—human. Never ill a day in her life, she had suddenly become dangerously anemic in the spring of her 73rd year. She fainted one morning at the kitchen table and an ambulance rushed her to hospital.
While they did tests that discovered a dangerous growth in her abdomen, she contracted COVID-19. She never complained. The nurses fell in love with her easy laugh and smile. But she could not breathe and passed on April 13, her family gathered around a cell phone for one last word and far from last tears.
The nurse who sat with her for the final moments later told us that Ellen, ever practical, first cancelled her breakfast, then closed her eyes.
That practical side could be breathtaking. We had, sadly, been forced to put down our much-loved 17-year-old border(line) collie that winter and had planned to take Willow’s ashes to the cottage. “I think you’ll be taking two boxes of ashes,” Ellen said. Of course, that is what she would want.
Roy and Ellen, around the time they were married in 1972. The Cottage had been built a few years earlier by Ellen’s parents, Lloyd and Rose Griffith. Photo courtesy of the MacGregor family.
Roy and Ellen, 1972
Ellen with daughter Christine in 1980. Photo courtesy of the MacGregor family.
Ellen and young Christine, 1980
Grief is a strange animal. It can attack when you least expect it. At a family cottage, it lurks everywhere.
In The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion’s 2005 book on the unexpected passing of her husband, she writes, “I could not count the times during the average day when something would come up that I needed to tell him. This impulse did not end with his death. What ended was the possibility of response.”
Never had the drive up Limberlost Road felt longer than that very first visit after Ellen’s passing. Son Gordon came with me, as I could not bear to go alone. It was the strangest feeling as I unlocked the door that she had last locked at Thanksgiving: fear rising, joy spreading.
Her presence was everywhere; her absence was everything. She was down at the dock teaching children how to swim. She was at the stove, creating one of her magical soups sans recipe. She was reading in the wicker chair by the window.
Even the walls held her. Her paintings of the canoe, of paddles, of the high rocks where the kids, and now grandkids, go to jump in summer. The perfect speckled trout she carved out of basswood. Her art everywhere, including in her daughter Christine, who will carry on the painting.
I go down to the dock where the red Northland Canoe is sitting, waiting. She paddled in the bow seat, me in stern. We have done trips from the mountains of British Columbia to the rivers of Quebec—and, of course, all through Algonquin Park. A perfect tripper, she more than carried her weight.
We had our best talks while paddling. Now the only sound is my paddle slicing through the water. I didn’t canoe much last summer. I intend to get back to it this year.
The old tin boat of her father’s is on its side. A couple of times a summer, she would have me hook up the old 6-h.p. Evinrude, and we would take the tin boat to the falls so that she could pick through the rocks that had been dislodged by winter ice and spring rush. It’s a wonder we didn’t sink on some of the return trips.
There is hand cream by the sink. Our daughter Kerry wrote about Ellen in the Ottawa Citizen and mentioned how she “always puts on too much hand cream. She says, ‘Come here, I took too much!’ and shares it with me, rubbing her hands on mine in a silly, loving manner.”
There is the fireplace and the woodshed, and she would be telling me and son Gord to get the chainsaw and splitter and make sure the new woodshed he built—wonder where that gene came from?—is filled with good hardwood for a winter trip we might or might not make. There is no winter access, so we drive in as far as we can and haul our food and water and supplies for a kilometre, most of it uphill. She would take one of the sleds, tie the rope around her waist, and simply grind it out. Ox blood, indeed.
She left the cottage to our four children. The cottage has known four generations of her family. She wants more. She left plans for a bunkie that she and John had been talking about for years. We decided to go ahead with it and, this spring, “Ellen’s Bunkie” will be open for grandchildren—six of them—and their friends.
There will be a large window with a view of the water. Daughter Jocelyn says there has to be one of her chairs there. “I could too easily see her easing into the chair with a cold drink and an ‘Ahhhh’ after her first sip—after a long day of hard work, of course.”
She will be here, just as her parents are forever here, if you know where to look. Her father’s trolling rod is on one wall. Her mother’s knitting and crochet work is on a table; her tea cozy is still in use.
Ellen on the dock with her family in 2014 (two grandchildren have since been added). Photo courtesy of the MacGregor family.
Ellen and her family, 2019
Ellen on her last trip to the cottage in 2020. Photo courtesy of the MacGregor family.
Ellen’s last trip to the cottage, 2020
Ellen’s grandkids, grandnieces, and grandnephews. Photo courtesy of the MacGregor family.
Ellen’s grandchildren
This cottage was her legacy, where she came with her parents, her sister, her husband, her children, her grandchildren. Soon there will be great-grandchildren, and they will find her here because she is on the walls, in the garden, forever in the stories of the one who always gave.
Jocelyn and her family came from Calgary during the summer. Jocelyn said it was crushingly sad at first, but as the week went on, she found the cottage a comfort. It had the same effect on her mother’s excess hand cream had on her when she was a child.
We said there would be a “Celebration of Life” once the cursed pandemic came to a close, and, of course, there will be—at her cottage.
Only it will not be a one-day event or even a one-generation celebration. Here, the Celebration of Life goes on as long as she is here.
Ellen had a treasured tradition at the cottage, a journal where she kept count of who visited and who did what while here. It is filled with love and appreciation, as it became customary to ask a guest or one of the children to describe their particular visit.
I gave the journal to 13-year-old grandson, Fisher, last August and told him to write about the fishing and the rock jumping and the neighbour’s crazy, bouncy lily pad.
He sat scribbling for a while. I left to do something else, and when I came back the pen was down, the journal open, and Fisher off to play.
“Miss you, Gramma,” he had written. “R.I.P.”
Roy MacGregor has been sharing his insights about life at the cottage with our readers since 1990. This article was originally published as “Rewriting the next chapter” in the June/July 2022 issue of Cottage Life.
How well do you know the iconic loon? Our favourite and famous cottage-country icon is anything but common. Loons are incredibly agile underwater, propelled by powerful, widely splayed legs, which are placed far back on their bodies. This makes walking difficult, but enables them to out-swim and catch dozens of perch, minnows, and other small fish a day.
With heavy, solid-boned bodies, the diving specialists need lake-top runways of 30 to several hundred metres—depending on the wind—to achieve lift off. Once airborne, however, they commonly clock120 kilometres an hour in steadily flapping flight, often calling while overhead. Loons have excellent underwater vision, but their striking red eyes are believed to be largely for show, highlighting them for friend or foe from across the lake.
A pair of breeding loons claims an entire small lake, or bay of a larger lake, as their exclusive territory. The vociferous waterfowl’s heart-warming wail is most often a beckoning between mates, though it’s sometimes joined in chorus by neighbours. One in five loons switch mates during spring territorial competition.
Loons lay eggs in late May or early June. Mates take turns, about every two to four hours, tending to the speckled eggs atop a concealed, shallow mound of grass and sedge at the shoreline. The nest is perched just above water that’s deep enough to permit a quick dive to safety.
Loon eggs hatch in early summer. Within hours, downy grey loon chicks splash into the water, paddling close to their parents, often hitching rides on their backs for rest, warmth, and protection, especially during their first week. One elder always tends them, usually in a quiet, protective nursery cove, while the other is out fishing. Chicks start learning to catch their own finny food when about a month old.
This article was originally published in the June/July 2022 issue of Cottage Life magazine.
What is considered “cottage country” around Ottawa?—Valerie Quinn, Barrie, Ont.
Well, according to Wikipedia, it’s “the Rideau Lakes area or parts of the Outaouais,” which is correct. At least, it’s been correct for a long time. If you’re asking because you’re, say, moving to Ottawa and you plan to buy a seasonal place, cottage country for you will probably depend on how much you want to spend, how badly you want privacy, and how far you’re willing to drive to get it.
“For most people, ‘cottage country’ is within a two-hour drive of Ottawa,” says Martin Elder, the owner of Martin Elder Real Estate Group. “They want lakes, not rivers. They want nature and lots of trees and no close neighbours.” But—if you’ve been reading this magazine over the last several years—you know that “cottage country” almost everywhere is evolving. “Everything is getting built up,” says Elder. Plus, supply is low and demand is high. A cottage that ticks all the boxes—the coveted two-hour drive time, lots of privacy, and the right price—is getting harder to find.
“I say to people, ‘I’d love to sell you that, but it doesn’t exist—not at the prices we saw two years ago,’ ” says John Macintyre, a veteran Century 21 realtor based in Chelsea, Que.
More people are moving full-time to the cottage or retiring to the cottage. “Many lakes that 25 years ago were considered cottage-only are now largely residential,” says Macintyre. (If a lake has no cottages on it, is it still “cottage country”?)
Bottom line: if availability and prices and lack of privacy push buyers to drive outside the traditional two-hour upper travel limit, and more cottagers move full-time to the traditional cottage lakes…who knows what we’ll call Ottawa “cottage country” in the future?
Don’t worry. We’ll update the Wikipedia page when the time comes.
Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.
This article was originally published in the June/July 2022 issue of Cottage Life magazine.
Have you noticed that during this pandemic, masks have become the new rearview mirror decoration? I’ve liked that, because masks have replaced the dream catcher as regularly featured mirror decor, a choice that has bugged me for years. Along with headdresses, the dream catcher is one of the most appropriated and exploited Indigenous symbols. There are lots of dream catcher tattoos out there. Miley Cyrus has one. Now, there are claims to Cherokee ancestry in her family, and that might be true, but guess what? Dream catchers aren’t actually from the Cherokee. Whoops.
Whoever you are, if you’re going to display a dream catcher, you should at least know its meaning, value, and symbolism to the appropriate Indigenous people. I’ll get you started. The dream catcher is a part of the Anishinaabe culture. There is no way to determine how long the dream catcher has been around—colonialism’s impact extends to our histories as Indigenous people—but it was first documented in the 1920s by anthropologist and ethnographer Frances Densmore. Dream catchers are traditionally constructed out of a hooped willow branch and a sinew net inside the hoop. Objects such as beads are often woven into the webbing.
As the name suggests, dream catchers are used to filter dreams, blocking bad ones by catching them in their net, and allowing only the good dreams to pass through, easing their way down the feathers to the person dreaming, typically a child. That’s why they’re often made out of willow and sinew; they aren’t intended to last forever.
They break down as the child ages. I’ve always hung my dream catchers by windows—which makes sense to me, because dreams probably don’t bust through walls, but traditionally dream catchers were hung over beds.
Of course, dreams aren’t exclusive to Indigenous people. We all have them. And the use of dream catchers, appropriately, has spread, first through the pan-Indian movement of the mid-twentieth century, to the shared symbol of hope they are today.
A dance group from Red Lake Indian Reservation, for example, has travelled to many schools that have experienced shootings and gifted them dream catchers. So, I’d say it’s okay to use dream catchers, but try to respect their purpose. And unless you’re planning to fall asleep at the wheel, maybe leave the job of rearview mirror ornaments to fuzzy dice.
This article was originally published in the June/July 2022 issue of Cottage Life magazine.
I have a pair of deer whistles that I have yet to install on my truck (because I do not have my truck back from the repair shop after a collision with a deer). My son-in-law generously sent them to me, and I’d like to know if I will have a reasonable expectation that they will reduce the chances of a future collision.—Robert Bourke, via email
Sorry. You’re better off having no expectations. Everyone we asked—the experts at the British Columbia Conservation Foundation and at Eco-Kare International, among other groups that look at human-wildlife conflict mitigation—pointed us to research that disputes deer whistle effectiveness.
Deer whistles are designed to emit sound in a frequency range that deer can hear (but humans can’t). There hasn’t been a huge amount of research on the topic, but the published scientific studies have largely looked at deer hearing capabilities; for example, how sensitive are deer ears to the range of signals that whistles produce?; can deer separate that noise from other noises?; and whether the whistles—or tones at the same frequency as what deer whistles typically produce—actually change deer behaviour.
The results of all this research are inconclusive at best. (Well, one 2008 study in Austria—where deer whistles were invented—found that a “stimulus system” that consisted of a high-pitched sound in combination with a strobe light reduced collisions by 85 to 93 per cent. But, as a 2019 report from the U.S.-based Human-Wildlife Conflict Working Group points out, “this effect has yet to be replicated.”) Plus, even if deer can clearly distinguish the sound of a whistle from ambient sounds, and even if they react to it as a threat, there’s no reason to believe that effect would last. Deer are like pretty much every other wild creature: after a while, they start to ignore sounds that initially scare them.
Science has spoken. When it comes to deer whistles, “there’s no demonstrative effectiveness,” says Keith Munro, the wildlife biologist with the Ontario Federation of Anglers and Hunters. “So, as a result, they don’t appear to be a way to reduce deer-vehicle collisions.”
They get good reviews online. And you already own these deer whistles. Nothing wrong with installing them on your truck once it’s back from the shop, right? Except…if that were to make you more confident driving in deer country and, therefore, less attentive, your truck might end up back in the repair shop. And that could be a best-case scenario.
Got a question for Cottage Q&A? Send it to answers@cottagelife.com.
This article was originally published in the June/July 2022 issue of Cottage Life.
Celebrate Canada Day on historic canals and waterways in Ontario and Quebec, for free. Parks Canada is waiving admission to locations it runs including national historic sites, parks, marine conservation areas and lockages such as the Trent-Severn Waterway.
The cost of a lockage depends on the waterway but for the TSW it is $1/foot for a single lock and return. For a detailed list of lockage fees and information on mooring permits, click here.
The news comes after Parks Canada decided to partially reopen the locks along the Trent-Severn Waterway after rising water levels posed a risk to boaters and property owners, and threatened to erode the shoreline.
Learn all about the laws you need to follow if you own or are visiting a cottage in Canada.
Cottage owner responsibility
Under the Ontario Occupier’s Act, cottage owners must do everything they can to ensure their guests’ safety. “For example, cottage owners need to check that their dock, waterfront access, deck, boat, and cottage interior are safe for people to use,” says Catherine Simons, a lawyer with Dietrich Law Office in Kitchener, Ont. This law also applies to cottage activities, such as boating. “Equipment must be safe and in good condition, and owners must provide safety tools, like life jackets,” Simons says.
Guests aren’t off the hook either. Visitors must take responsibility. In 2016, a man drowned at his friend’s cottage, and his family sued the owners using the Ontario Liability Act for not warning them about the lake’s conditions. The court ruled in favour of the owner because the man went out to the lake in an inner tube without knowing how to swim, explains Simons.
Tip: Catherine Simons advises that cottage owners should inform their insurance companies if they are renting their cottages short-term.
Camp fires and burning
Thinking about roasting a marshmallow? First, check your municipal bylaws and provincial regulations. If you are in a fire region (designated by the yellow borders) of the Forest Fire Info Map, follow the Forest Fire Prevention Act and local rules. Outside of these parameters, follow local regulations.
In a fire region, you don’t need a permit when a campfire is smaller than 1-by-1 metre. Burn wood, brush, leaves, and grass so long as the fire is no larger than two metres in width, there are safe burning conditions, and you are not in a restricted area. For special circumstances, purchase a permit in-person at your local fire management office.
People start half of all wildfires, according to the Ministry of Northern Development, Mines, Natural Resources and Forestry. To reduce fire-related risks, visit FireSmart Canada. If there is a fire south of the Mattawa and French rivers, dial 9-1-1, otherwise call 310-FIRE.
When choosing the best option, look for Canadian-approved flotation devices with a label that Transport Canada, the Canadian Coast Guard, and/or Fisheries and Oceans Canada have approved. When deciding, know that life jackets offer more flotation than PFDs. While PFDs are typically more comfortable, you must wear them at all times while on board.
Shore-line speed restrictions
Unless otherwise posted, there is a speed limit of 10 kph when you are boating within 30 metres of shore in Alberta, British Columbia, Manitoba, Ontario, Saskatchewan, and Nova Scotia. This speed limit does not apply to rivers less than 100 metres wide, canals, buoyed channels, and while water skiing (where the boat launches and drops off skiers by heading away from or into shore).
Before you visit one of Canada’s national parks, educate yourself on the visitor guidelines set out by the Canada National Parks Act. For example, only consume alcohol at registered campsites, private residences, or on licensed premises. Only camp or have a campfire in designated areas. You may operate a drone, fish, and take commercial photography only after obtaining a permit. Skip hunting and fireworks—the act doesn’t allow these activities under any circumstances. Ride an e-bike on trails, but keep motorized vehicles in the parking lot. Lastly, your furry friends are welcome, but keep them on a leash.
Flying a drone
Follow the Government of Canada’s privacy laws when you’re out flying your drone. To safely operate your drone, don’t go beyond reasonable privacy, engage in voyeurism or mischief, create a nuisance, or violate provincial or municipal laws.
You are accountable for your drone use and information you collect. Only collect necessary information and ask for consent to do so. The drone also needs to be stored safely and operators should be open about their drone use to anyone who is asking.
Photo courtesy of Teva
Photo courtesy of Sperry
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