Where have all the dancers gone?

 Whether summering at a Muskoka cottage or one of the many resort hotels in the last century, one of the fun activities was attending lakeside dances. Elegantly attired enthusiasts would canoe, row, or cruise over to a venue, sometimes in a chauffeur-driven launch.

According to Muskoka Traditions by Andrew Wagner-Chazalon and Bev McMullen, “The Lake Rosseau Club at Cleveland’s House… was so popular in the 1930s that people were known to wait in shifts for their turn to dance. Other resorts had their own style - Windermere House was known for quiet, sedate music, whereas the Charleston and jitterbugging were popular at the Royal Muskoka.”

One of the most renowned dance halls was Dunn’s Pavilion (renamed The Kee to Bala in the 1960s), which hosted big name bands like Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Guy Lombardo, and others. It was built mostly over water, with a large sundeck that enticed couples to snatch a few minutes from the hectic activity to watch the moon shimmer across the lake. There were live bands every evening except Sundays, since dancing was not allowed on the Sabbath in Ontario in those days. Weekends were so popular that special trains from Toronto were added to accommodate the crowds of partygoers who, locals lamented, “were sleeping all over the place, on the beaches, in the park.” Those who couldn’t get into Dunn’s would sit in the grounds or on their boats and listen to the music drift into the star-studded night.

Less formal but no less popular were the dances once rock and roll invaded The Kee with bands like April Wine, Lighthouse, The Tragically Hip, and numerous others. Those of us who've been there have never forgotten those magical evenings.

The Kee to Bala still attracts top name bands for concerts on summer weekends, but unfortunately, the few resorts that remain no longer have dances. I’ve missed those on my holidays in Muskoka these last couple of decades. Fortunately, my characters can dance to their heart’s content in the Roaring 20s.

Summer Fun a Century Ago

In my June 23^rd posting we saw the sedate side of summer life in Muskoka’s Age of Elegance, but there were plenty of activities to wile away the hot days. What better than swimming with friends? Although, unlike the people in these Frank Micklethwaite photos, I’d prefer less enveloping bathing suits, especially in this current heat wave.

Rowing and canoeing were popular, even with women wearing floor-length dresses and picture hats.

Most important were the Regattas, for which you practiced all summer, hoping to add to the family showcase on the mantelpiece - trophies for sailing, rowing, and canoe races, swimming, diving, canoe jousting competitions, and so forth. 

And for the wealthy and adventuresome in the 1920s and on, there were the motorboat races. 

This ethos is captured in my Muskoka Novels, The Summer Before The Storm and Elusive Dawn, and continues in Book 3, which should be in print next summer.

Quintessential Muskoka

This 1905 photo evokes for me the ethos of Edwardian Muskoka. Much of cottage life revolved around the expansive veranda where cooling summer breezes, redolent with pine, refreshed you until your next dip in the lake. It was an outdoor room where families gathered to hear grandmother read or to entertain friends. And many of these cottagers spent the entire summer at their lakeside homes.

This photograph by Frank Micklethwaite inspired me to write the following scene in The Summer Before The Storm:

“So this was his family. They lounged with practiced ease on white wicker chairs and rockers and chaise lounges on the broad, pine-boarded veranda that wrapped around the cottage. The youngest children, sitting side by side, swung lazily in the hammock that hung in the bandshell on the southwest corner. A silver tea service and plates of small sandwiches, thick scones, and rich cakes was set before them. To nourish the soul there was the stunning panorama of the lake ― rocky islands adrift along miles of shimmering blue water. A few sailboats and the distant smoke from a steamship wafted across the horizon.”

For some, cottage life hasn’t changed that much since the Age of Elegance, except for the clothes. You can still relax on verandas that embrace shingled cottages, and hear the distinctive creaking and slapping of those old-fashioned screen doors that remind you that it is summer.

Below is a Mickletwaite photo from 1908. Doesn’t it invite you to climb into one of those rattan rockers and savour the moment, perhaps with a good book and a glass of wine?

The Monsters Under the Dock

They eat small fish and tadpoles, as well as insects. They move with lightning speed, and can illicit the expletive "Holy sh**!" from the bravest and strongest of men. There are people who have summered on lakes all their lives and have never seen one, because these monsters are skittish. Fortunately. They are dock spiders.

More correctly known as fishing spiders, the adults can be about the size of a splayed hand! I can verify that since I have seen them. The first time was as a young wife enjoying a romantic holiday at a Muskoka lodge. My husband and I were canoeing in the calm of late afternoon, absorbing the sublime beauty of the lake and the thrusting granite cliff that sparkled in the sunshine. He said, “Wow, look at that spider!” pointing to the rock wall mere inches from our canoe. I’ve always been afraid, although not phobic, about spiders, so I was immediately on the alert. I didn’t see it at first because it was SO big. But I finally did, shrieked, and nearly tipped the canoe. I’m sure I would have won a regatta race in my haste to get as far away as possible.

It was at least thirty years before I saw another one. Some lakes, or at least areas of them, seem to be more popular with these critters. They like calm water and wood, and often live under docks, which is how they acquired their nickname. They can submerge themselves underwater for 10 to 15 minutes when frightened, and can even "swim"!

If you’d like a laugh, have a look at this brief video of me at a Muskoka resort - after I had seen a huge mother dock spider guarding her egg sac - about the only time that they don’t skitter away immediately upon hearing noise or feeling the vibration of interlopers on their docks. I’d also seen a few sunning themselves on the lovely rocks where I am perched in this clip, as I had kayaked by the previous day.

My reference to a dock spider in The Summer Before The Storm is definitely symbolic.

Historical weather and other tidbits

Trying to recreate an era as accurately as possible, I’m continually amazed and delighted that so many historical tidbits can be found instantly on the Internet. I know that in 1914 the July full moon fell on Tuesday the 7th, which is when my characters have a moonlight cruise on the lake. I’ve seen photos of the first class dining lounge on the Lusitania, and know what was served to my characters for dinner as they departed for England. I know what a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost ambulance looks like, as driven by one of my young women. I’ve watched funerals for those killed in air raids, and followed Edward, the Prince of Wales, on his tour through Canada in 1919.

I need a good understanding of the time to be able to realistically place my characters in it. So even trivial things like the weather are taken into account. Looking at the climate data for 1919, I see that June was incredibly hot, with half the days registering over 30°C, while July was almost as hot, and had only four rainy days. How unlike our summer last year, which was lamentably cool and wet. The weather certainly has an impact on how you spend time at your lakeside cottage, as my characters do.

After two cool summers here, I know I’m not the only one looking forward to a blistering 1919-type one. In the meantime, I’m spending the winter there!

Thanksgiving

Canadian Thanksgiving falls at the most colourful time of the year, with trees glowing like balls of sunshine or blazing scarlet, the meadows punctuated by purple and yellow wildflowers and sun bronzed stalks.

This long holiday weekend is also the traditional time to “close” the seasonal cottages that aren’t insulated or accessible in winter. This ritual can involve, among other things, draining the water system, putting up shutters, and pulling out docks that are threatened by winter ice. Cottage Life Magazine claims that 60% of Ontario’s 220,000 waterfront vacation homes are now used year-round, so Thanksgiving is no longer the end of the cottaging season for many. There are, however, still resorts that close after this weekend, to be opened again in late May.

Sad to think that it will be seven long winter months before we can re-open the cottage in anticipation of summer.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Summer's Lament

The older I become the more reluctant I am to relinquish summer. Although we’re currently experiencing the best weather we’ve had this entire record-breaking cool and wet summer, this past Labour Day weekend still felt like the unofficial end to the season.

But how delightful to be able to spend it at our island cottage with family and friends!

After a refreshing last swim, we stood in the lake beside the dock and celebrated the perfect day and some significant anniversaries and birthdays with champagne. It will be at least nine long months before I’ll be back there, so I’m looking forward to immersing myself in writing about summers long past as I work on my latest novel. And there are always photos.

"Millionaires' Row"

On my recent research trip to the Muskoka lakes, I took a delightful cruise on a 1920s-style yacht around the area known as Millionaires’ Row. It was here, over a century ago, that wealthy Americans began building their summer homes or “cottages”. Many were from Pittsburgh; some were and still are among the richest families in America. They ventured north to the pristine wilderness of the Canadian Shield to escape the industrial pollution and stifling heat of summer, bringing along a bevy of servants (one family had 27!), and staying for two or three months. Many of these well-preserved cottages are still in the family, and several generations have grown up on the lakes and been enchanted by the mystique of this beautiful district.

The boathouses are as fanciful as the gingerbread cottages, and usually have party rooms or living quarters above, often for the children or guests. (One is pictured above.) Many of these still shelter aquatic jewels - exquisite boats handcrafted by one of the world-renowned Muskoka boat builders. With vintage launches and grand cottages little changed, it’s easy to imagine the genteel life on these lakes a century ago.

To book a tour on the Idyllwood yacht, visit Sunset Cruises.

My Muskoka Novels will also transport you to this elegant era.

Cottage tales (or tails?)

The “morning dock” at our family cottage is at the base of a small bluff accessed by about a dozen stairs. As I once savoured the solitude of sitting there watching a summer sunrise, I was startled by a thundering noise approaching me, the ground trembling. I leapt to my feet to see a herd of cows charging for the steps. I screamed. Equally shocked, they seemed to screech to a halt, like cartoon characters. Heart still pounding, I shooed them away.

Cows at the cottage? Yup! I mentioned in my last posting that there had once been a farm on our island. There is still a meadow in the centre, and heifers are brought over every summer to graze there. Of course cows have no respect for property, so they wander where they will, and many cottagers have put up electric fences to keep them away.

 My brother and his family once awakened to what they thought was an earthquake, as the cottage was shaking. They quickly discovered that several cows had gone underneath and were scratching their backs on the beams - the building sitting on concrete tubes that left them just enough room to walk beneath. We now have screening around that.

 Another time, one of the clever beasts managed to turn on the outdoor faucet so that they could all drink. Who said that cows were dumb?

 Lately, there have also been bulls on the island. They are more of a concern, since they have been known to chase cottagers out for a stroll. It gives new meaning to being cautious about the “wildlife”!

The joys and challenges of island cottaging

Lakes are moody. They can be benignly serene or exuberantly playful, happily reflecting a blue sky and scintillating with sunbeams momentarily captured by the waves. But they can also turn black and malicious. It’s at moments like this that you wish your parents had built their cottage on the mainland instead of on an island.

On brooding and windy days, when waves are belligerently frothing with white caps, docking can be virtually impossible as breakers wash over the stern of the boat and attempt to ram you into the rocks. If you can actually get to the island, it can be equally dangerous to leave, so it’s essential to be well stocked with food and refreshments. In any case, once you’ve hauled all the stuff across three kilometres of capricious water, you don’t want to have to trek back to town to pick up forgotten bread or flashlight batteries. Obviously, planning ahead is important.

So why have a cottage on an island, which is accessible for only about six months of the year? Partly because island property is significantly larger but decidedly cheaper than mainland lots. Our nearest neighbour is a ten-minute walk away through the woods. Some of the mainland cottages are packed as tightly together as suburban houses. We certainly have solitude, along with a bit more adventure.

My friend, whose family has cottaged on an island since 1879, claims that island people are different - hardier, yet more laid back. Perhaps being farther away from the distractions of modern life - the highways, cars, shopping malls - makes it easier to relax, commune with nature, pick up a book instead of the car keys. Certainly when I visit her vintage cottage, it’s like stepping back into time, and out of the frenetic present.

We’re on a 1200 acre island that was once a farm. A generation ago, the family still lived there, and the children had to go to the mainland - nearly a kilometre across the lake at the narrowest point - to attend school. So they could row over until the lake froze solid enough to walk across. But what about the transition period between open water and safe ice, I wanted to know. Seems that the children would push the rowboat and jump into it if the thin ice broke beneath them. Imagine sending your kids off to school like that every day in early winter and late spring!

 So I can hardly complain about the “hardships” of island cottaging!

 

The Enchantment of Cottaging

Listening to the haunting cry of a loon echoing across the lake, the splash of the paddle as you glide through the water in your canoe, the crackling of the evening bonfire, the lapping of the waves that lull you to sleep. Watching the rising sun chasing the ribbons of mist across the mirror-calm lake, sailboats wafting by, another spectacular sunset, a nighttime sky so heavy with stars that some plummet to earth, the rippling of the moon across the black water. These are just some of the experiences that keep us going back and longing for time at the cottage.

In Canada, “cottages” are waterside dwellings that range from cabins with no running water or electricity to luxurious, multi-million dollar mansions with all the latest gadgets. Most, however, are comfortably in between, many not useable in winter. In Ontario, cottaging began in the last quarter of the 19^th century, when travellers discovered the wonder and beauty of the multitude of lakes carved out of the Precambrian shield by glaciers.  Escaping the heat of the cities, people with time and money could spend leisurely summers cooling off lakeside. Many of these cottages have now been passed down through four or five generations, those growing up there, feeling such a strong connection to these family places that they travel great distances - sometimes across the continent - to vacation at the cottage.

 And cottages do tend to be places where family and friends congregate to enjoy the outdoors, chat during morning coffee and afternoon cocktails on the dock, bond over meal preparations, and quietly share the tranquility. It’s little wonder that Friday evenings see an exodus of urban people undertaking the two or four or more hour drive to this sanctuary, with the reverse on Sundays. Our family cottage is on an island, which makes our journey more weather dependent, as the lake crossing - and docking the boat - can be tricky and sometimes impossible in high winds and storms that whip up punishing waves. It’s all part of the challenge of island cottaging - outrunning that wall of water coming at you across the menacing lake. But how glorious once you’re there. And how lucky those who, because they can work from the cottage (some even commute, if they live in towns nearby) or are retired, can spend the entire summer there. 

 My “Muskoka Novels” are set in cottage country, and describe the cottaging ethos prior to WW1, during Muskoka’s Age of Elegance.