Apsley in the 70's

Feeling the cool, refreshing water caress my skin and my long sun-kissed hair tickle the small of my back, I came up out of the water. I had to carefully steady myself on the boulder in the water because it was still slippery from the algae my mom had asked me to sweep away with the broom. It was a hot, humid, summer day in cottage country just outside of the hamlet of Apsley, near Peterborough, Ontario.

My job that summer, was to work on my tan. I looked a bit like a Coppertone commercial; the one where the puppy dog pulls at the bottoms of the little girl, exposing a bit of her white bum, showing off her tanned skin. I stretched my big beach towel out on the dock, fanned my long, wet hair out, so that it could get even more bleached by the sun. A deer fly flew laps over my head, looking for a place to land.

Looking up at the blue sky, I watched the clouds slowly float by; every now and then one would cover the sun. I could hear the bull frogs singing their song and those bugs that rub their wings together making a piercing sound. That was our weatherman. When they made that sound, we knew it was going to be a hot day. Of course, I could have told you that – it was hot!

Feeling the heat, I decided it was time for an ice cream or maybe a popsicle! The crispy grass massaged the bottoms of my feet as I walked up to the cottage. Pulling a large t-shirt over my head, I grabbed some money and headed to town. My parents were busy doing what parents do and I never even thought to ask them if they would give me a ride into town. We had a dump across the road from our cottage and we occasionally saw bears there, rummaging through the trash. I suddenly had a creepy feeling that I was being followed by a black bear, so I quickened my pace. I don’t know how long of a walk it was to town, but when you’re 14, it felt like a long time. The hilly road curved around to the left and right. A horse fly spotted me and tormented me all the way to town. I tried to outrun it, but it always managed to keep up. At least the annoying horsefly made me forget about the idea of a being followed by a bear.

Finally, Apsley. There it was. I don’t remember everything the hamlet had to offer and sadly, we never did take a photo of the quaint town, but I do remember the “Tavern” with its red carpet and dim lights and the most amazing strawberry milkshakes! You know, the kind in that tall glass that’s wider at the top and narrower toward the bottom. And standing next to my pink pleasure (topped with whipping cream) was an additional, almost completely full, stainless steel cup holding even more of the cold, creamy treat!

Apsley also had a library and I think it had a gas station. But the best store of all, was the Lucky Dollar! It had everything a kid could imagine and ask for! Jaw breakers, black balls, pixie sticks, popsicles, fudgesicles, gum, like Hubba Bubba, collectible hockey cards and so much more. I wonder what I ever did with my hockey card collection and if they’d be worth something these days.

After savouring my fudgsicle, I popped a black ball into my mouth and put the rest in the tiny paper bag the cashier gave me. If you’ve never tried blackballs, they were licorice- flavoured, hard round balls that changed colour the more you sucked on them. It was fun when I could enjoy them with a friend and laugh at each other’s black tongues! Heading back to the cottage, I repeatedly took the candy out of my mouth to check on the new colour. Somehow walking back to the cottage always seemed to go faster and my fear of bears mysteriously disappeared. Upon my return, it was time for supper. Growing up in a German family, our summertime suppers often consisted of my mom’s delicious homemade potato salad and BBQ’d German sausage with mustard – German mustard, of course.

Our cottage was built on skids and underneath lived a skunk family. My dad said that was their home more than it was ours, since we’d only go out a few times in the summer, so he let them stay and we co-existed. Except for the time when my dad thought it would be fun to have a pet skunk. The skunk family had new little kits and we decided we should try and tame one. They were so cute! So, before it got too dark, the skunk family came out from under the cottage and my dad tried to hit a kit on the head with a stick, hoping to knock him unconscious. Neither of us thought it through very well, because the momma skunk naturally tried to protect her little one and well… you can imagine what happened. My mom made us go down to the lake and wash up before coming back inside. I’m not sure how long we smelled, but my oh my, we didn’t try that again.

My favourite pastime at our cottage was when my dad and I would take the rowboat to the other side of the lake and hunt for crystals and fool’s gold. Across the lake was crown land and we were on the Canadian Shield. When I was younger, I slept all the way to the cottage; about a 2-hour drive. Once there, my father was looking forward to relaxing after the long trip. I would beg him to take me across the lake to hunt for gold! My sweet father always did, regardless of how tired he was. I had an orange backpack and my dad would bring along his hammer and screw driver and we’d climb and chisel away at -the boulders. When my backpack was good and heavy, we’d head back and I’d examine my newfound treasures.

Every evening, we’d sit around the table and play checkers or Crazy 8, Canasta, or the German version of the game called Sorry. We never had clocks or watches with us and the old radio rarely had good reception, so we went to bed when we were tired and woke up when we felt like it. Every evening, after going to bed, my dad sprayed the cottage with Raid and I would have to hide my face inside my sleeping bag until I thought the mist had settled. Sometimes I stuck my head out too soon and I could feel the mist land on my face. Back then ignorance was bliss. My dad would then turn down the Coleman lantern that was used every evening to keep our tiny cottage lit. The lantern would grow more and more dim, until everything was pitch black! I couldn’t even see my hand held in front of my face. Utter darkness.

Regardless of how much Raid was sprayed, the high-pitched buzz of a mosquito, kept me awake! It was only made worse when the buzzing stopped and I knew it landed somewhere and would brace myself, waiting to feel the tiny stinger poke. Behind the walls I could hear the pitter patter of little mouse feet. Finally, after worrying about mosquitoes, mice, and spiders, I was too tired to stay awake and too tired to care.

In the morning, I went down to the lake. The morning mist was just lifting off the water. What time was it, I wondered? What would I do that day? Whittle a stick? Go for a swim? Have a bonfire and roast marshmallows with my parents? Work on my tree fort next to the outhouse? Peel bark off the birch tree and use it to write my cousin a letter? Maybe I’d go fishing with my dad. Or beg him to join me for another gold-treasure hunt.

Oh, summertime at the cottage; the most precious memories I carry in my heart. Paradise on earth.

Written in memory of my sweet father: April 17, 1928 – November 13, 2019.