The Death of Cottage Country

Every so often, it takes a shock to the system to understand that the world has changed, sometimes for better, often for worse. Mine came this past summer when, while out rowing, I saw a group of cottagers in a speedboat intentionally buzzing a family of loons. At that moment, I realized (at the risk that this is all going to sound like sanctimonious bullshit) that the notion of cottaging I grew up with is dead, buried, and all but forgotten. While my cottage isn’t in what’s traditionally considered the “Muskoka” area, it’s close enough that many of the same phenomena that have affected that area are beginning to occur on my lake.

Cottages were initially conceived as a way to help urbanites get out of the city and become re-acquainted with the beauty of nature. The inner peace brought about by leaving technology behind was the main attraction. Nowadays, however, cottage country has been developed to the point that it is virtually indistinguishable from the city itself.

Gone are the days when forests enveloped shorelines, replaced by carefully manicured lawns that closely resemble the lands of a golf course. Properties that once contained charming, rustic cabins in the woods now house multimillion-dollar mansions. Lakes, once the source of solace and relaxation among cottagers, have become highly trafficked waterways. Muskoka, an area once world renowned for its rugged wilderness, now seems like little more than a logical extension of the Greater Toronto Area’s urban sprawl.

Ironically, the quest to civilize cottage country has made nature more of a nuisance than an attraction. Many species of animals and plants once commonplace in these areas have been virtually eradicated from the ecosystem, exiled to remote areas that have not yet been reached by developers.

Loons, for example, carry their young on their backs until the chicks are able to swim for themselves. When cottagers buzz at them with speedboats, forcing the adults to dive, there is a very high chance that the baby loons will drown. What those drunken louts don’t realize in trying to impress their friends is that they are putting serious strain on the ecosystem and forcing animals such as loons further away from cottage country.

When I was a young child, I distinctly remember lying awake in bed at night listening to the loons on our lake calling to each other, as well as the haunting, ethereal call of the whip-poor-will. These sounds are so distinct and moving that I truly believe every person should have a chance to experience them at least once. Sadly, however, hearing loons on the lake has become a rarity, while whip-poor-wills are now seldom ever heard.

Although loons or whip-poor-wills have yet to be considered an “at risk” species, there are a multitude of others that have not been so fortunate. The Eastern Massasauga Rattlesnake, the only poisonous snake found in Ontario, has been much maligned by uninformed cottagers who overreact at the prospect of a venomous animal on their property. What they don’t know, of course, is that the snake is timid and prefers to avoid people if at all possible. Unfortunately, however, misinformation has led to countless snakes being killed on sight, and the species is now recognized as threatened.

Looking back, it’s incredible to think that this land was virtually given away by the government to open the area up to logging and farming. Even more impressive, especially to those of us who know the area today, is that many settlers tragically died of starvation and disease while trying to homestead the land, unfortunate victims of unfertile soil and frigid winters. The only remaining vestiges of this bygone era are the names of the colonisation roads: the Opeongo, Nipissing, Hastings, etc.

Despite the area once being considered inhospitable, it has since come to be recognized as the “Hamptons of the North.” Despite the area having been a tourist draw since the early twentieth century, it has only been in the last 50 years that the area has begun to lose its rustic charm. In 2014, for example, there were 59 transactions relating to properties valued at more than $2 million. In 1962, by contrast, our family bought an acre of undeveloped lakefront property for all of $1,200.

Our lake wasn’t allowed to have cottages built on it until the road development in 1969. For the next few decades, however, the area remained minimally developed, with tiny cabins hidden by the forests and the lakeshores dotted only with miniscule docks.

One thing that hasn’t changed, despite all the development, is the importance of water. Boats have always had a place in cottage country, although now most lakes are home to many families with vessels more valuable than an average car. Palatial boathouses, larger than many homes in Toronto, dot the waterfront of every lake in cottage country. Most comical, perhaps, has been the tendency to clear-cut the forests along the shorelines, replacing them with grass. Who in their right mind wants to leave their home in Toronto only to spend their weekend mowing their lawn at the cottage?

What’s the point of this newfound grandiosity? The priceless experience of “roughing it” is no longer desired. Cottages have become commodities, assets that are bought and sold on a whim for a profit. Further, people will invest money into altering the landscape in spectacular ways simply to demonstrate their wealth. The original purpose of the hobby has metamorphosed into a rat race for prestige. The desire to impress peers has superseded the purpose of experiencing nature.

A family friend, whose family had owned a cottage on Lake Muskoka since the 1930s, once claimed, noting the size of many Muskoka cottages, that the largest cottages never have anybody staying there, since the owners have to work constantly in order to afford them.

This over-the-top luxury has further inspired a number of offshoot industries to come to the area, which has further detracted from its peace and serenity. Chartered flights by floatplane are now available, which, although horrendously expensive, often present the only opportunity for Bay Street financiers to enjoy their properties.

The oldest generation of cottagers, like the family friend mentioned above, are beginning to move on from the area, whether by passing away or being forced to sell properties they can no longer maintain due to advanced age. The ones who still remember when the lakes were lined with little more than virgin forests are few and far between. Just like the loons and whip-poor-wills, they are becoming rarer and rarer in an ever-changing and less natural environment.