The view is still stunning but as we’ve aged, we can no longer be the self-reliant wilderness women we so loved being
Cottage days are coming to an end for my partner and me, and I am already grieving the loss of the view across the lake; of my favourite visitors – the deer, coyotes and occasional black bear; and of the sense of peace that descends as Val and I pull into the driveway.
What I am definitely not grieving is having my head down the RV-style toilet trying to figure out why the flushing mechanism is stuck, or being on my back under the cottage mouse-proofing the perimeter.over the past 25 years. Cottage life here is DIY territory. Indeed, the concept of self-reliance is given a whole new dimension when you’re 24 kilometres down a gravel road and a further 25 minutes down a two-lane highway to the nearest town. My late mother revelled in that isolation – and that view, but her annual summer visits came to an end with the COVID-19 lockdowns, as did our own long-term stays over the summer months. Today, we have lost the rhythm of the cottage lifestyle. This year, it took me until the end of June to get just myself up there. I knew what was waiting for me: the toilet, functional only because it sits directly over the holding tank and can be flushed in a rudimentary fashion with a couple of yogurt-tub-sized containers of water. What I did not know was waiting for me was a water system that wasn’t holding pressure and a shower that didn’t work.issue. I deduced that water coming out of the bathroom and kitchen faucets with good pressure, but nothing coming out of the shower, must mean the shower was causing the system to slowly lose pressure – and this was well beyond my expertise. So I called Ruben, the region’s septuagenarian plumber-saviour, who promised to come in a few days. Until then, I cleaned, vacuumed and organized inside and mowed, trimmed and set up for summertime outside. There are always chores to do at a cottage. When Val and I were younger, those chores were some of our favourite pastimes. We were two wilderness women intent on conquering power tools and taking on any project within our muscles’ scope – shingle the shed roof, deconstruct the dangerous-looking fireplace, put up kitchen cabinets, clean the chimney, chop the wood, paint the siding, dismantle the sodden buffalo board masquerading as effective foundation trim, clean the eaves and so on. I particularly enjoyed loading the utility trailer full of brush, driving it to the dump, backing it up expertly into just the right spot and then pulling out the well-constructed load with one almighty pull. All this work built not only my muscles but also my confidence. I credit my cottage experience with my skill at taking on the most recalcitrant hardware store clerk who insisted on mansplaining the project parts I had been sent for and calling me Ma’am while doing so. When Ruben arrived, he began to investigate the water system issue. First, he ran the water to test the pressure. No issues here, Ruben said. Next, he tested the shower. No water came out of either the hot or cold tap via the shower head. Suddenly, it dawned on me that every couple of seasons we change the shower head, as, over time, it fills with sediment. Ruben took it off and, voila, water came out of both taps via the headless hose. But the more complex problem of the toilet not flushing remained. Shunning the instructions that accompanied the replacement parts I had brought with me, Ruben dived right in, no gloves, no concern about the murky depths in which sat the nuts and bolts that needed holding and turning. My job was to hold the powerful flashlight while Ruben talked himself through the process as he envisioned it – until he conceded it was time to consult the instructions. After finding him a trusty vice grip in our own set of tools, Ruben got the old part out and the new part in and – miracle – the flushing mechanism was working again. Never had I seen anything so beautiful appear in that bathroom as the clear water filling the bowl – and the foot pedal emptying it. No more manual flushing required – while I had managed with it just fine, I certainly won’t miss it. What I will miss is the deep dark of a new-moon night, the sight of the bald eagles that nest to the south of us, the stunning sunrises over the lake, and the sound of the woodpeckers across the road. But we are not as young as we used to be and we can no longer be the self-reliant wilderness women we so loved being, so our cottage days will soon be behind us. The memories I have – all the memories, from mouse-proofing to toilet fixing and from sunrises to sunsets and that view across the lake – I’ll take them all, along with the confidence from all those trailer dump runs, into our next more urban chapter.Fall is buying time in cottage countryCheck your horoscope to learn how the stars align for you today.Real Estate Transactions
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