Finding refuge in a small Muskoka boathouse – muskokaregion.com

Once upon a time there was a little white boathouse. For years and years, it was my special place at the cottage, my refuge.

In 1958, when I was 15, my dad was ready to build our long-awaited boathouse. He'd had a windfall on the stock market and finally had the wherewithal to buy the lumber. The boathouse would go in a shallow, protected spot behind the huge rock we still call the elephant hump.

Dad had a three-weekholiday that summer and I worked with him every day. It was a special time indeed, to be old enough to be a real help to my father. We constructed a 16-by-20-foot platform, assembled the framing and put on the clapboard siding. There was many a dint in the studs where I missed many a nail. For the flat roof, he used pine floor boards under tar paper and shingles as he planned to add a second storey the following year. Sadly, that was not to be, as he died unexpectedly that fall at the age of 55.

After that, I had summer jobs elsewhere, but when I had cottage time, I made the boathouse my bedroom. As a teenager, I wanted time to myself and my boathouse gave me that. Never much interested in decor, I managed with an iron cot and the occasional visit from mice. An old oak dresser, bequeathed by cousins, was a place to stow clothes, although anything left in its drawers over the winter was nicely nibbled.

We recycled the tiny front porch from the cottage and moved it to a spot behind the boathouse. I was married by then and we savoured our mornings there, as the sun found its way to that deck before it warmed the rest of the property. We were sheltered from the prevailing westerly breeze and it became my favourite place to swim.

One of the best things was to sleep in the boathouse, having the time to listen to the water gently lapping against the cribs, a peaceful, nurturing sound that never failed to put me to sleep.

Nesting time comes to us all, and little by little, we added domestic comforts to that 320-square-foot space: a retired linoleum dance floor became flooring. We installed indoor-outdoor carpet, acquired a second dresser, night tables, a coffee table, curtains, a refrigerator, a toaster, a kettle, a coffee maker and an electric frying pan. There was no plumbing, but the clean water of the lake was right there and the biffy was near by too.

At the end of our holiday, we had to put away the boathouse, stacking everything in preparation for its off-season use as a storage building.

We had to make time for the endless maintenance. Every summer for years I painted one of the boathouse walls, working my way around the building in a four-year cycle. The flat roof leaked early on and was replaced with a slightly peaked roof, which also leaked and was replaced at least twice.

I do not fully understand why I became so foolishly fond of a building built to store boats. It was decidedly rustic, but for me, that was part of its appeal. Certainly, when things got too busy in the main cottage as they did with teenage daughters, I found time for peace and quiet in my boathouse home.

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Finding refuge in a small Muskoka boathouse - muskokaregion.com