Memories of Bass Lake (Steenburg Lake, Gilmour, Ontario)

by Richard McCarthy

CHAPTER 1 - Arrival at the lake

 I was a 7 year old boy when my parents,  Malcolm and Helen McCarthy,  first brought me to Bass Lake for the summer of ’53.   I’m referring to Steenburg Lake as “Bass Lake”,  as that’s how everyone referred to it at that time.   The common name became “Steenburg Lake” over the years,  as I understand there are about 50 Bass Lakes in Ontario,  resulting in lots of confusion when one asked on what lake you were cottaging.   My Uncle Dick ( Dr. Richard (Dick) Potter) , my mother Helen’s brother,  had encouraged us to spend a summer at a cottage that was for rent two lots up from where they had built their cottage several years prior.   The Potters had purchased their land from a lady by the name of McMullen who had owned a fair bit of the shoreline along that side of the lake.   I’m not sure whether she had any formal medical or nursing training,  but I had learned as a child that a young man by the name of Dewey had been very sick,  and that Mrs. McMullen had arranged for him to stay at her home on the lake which has been known in recent years as the Savage’s cottage.    As a result of Mrs. McMullen’s care,  the clean air around the lake,  and the relaxing setting,   Mr. Dewey regained his health.   In the following years,  he purchased and/or was given the little island off the shore that has been know to many as Dewey’s Island,  where he built a good sized 2 storey home.   The Dewey’s arrived every summer from the USA to spend the summer during the years we were raised at what is now the Pollards’ home.

 It’s hard to believe,  seeing it now,  that little Dewey’s Island had such a grand cottage on it,  with a boathouse with a wet slip facing towards the shore.   The Dewey’s had a right-of-way,  or an understanding to have access to the lake between the Savages and what was the Potters’ cottage,  and that allowed them to have easy access to their island.   The Dewey’s had 3 children,  Butch,  Peggy and David.  I can remember as a young boy being shown around the upstairs of their cottage,  and being so impressed with the main bedroom upstairs that had big wooden shutters that were pulled up with sash cords and pulleys to allow for a beautiful view right up the lake.  On a summer evening with a gentle breeze,  it must have seemed close to heaven sleeping up there.  One night when we played cards as a group on Dewey’s Island,  I had the opportunity to eat my first Pizza.  I’d never had one before.  It came in a box with a little tin of tomato sauce and was made by Chef Boy Ardee.

 Many years latter,  late in the fall,  an electrical storm caused the island to be hit with lightning.  There was a large propane tank on the island next to the side of the building,  and it exploded, ripping open like a tin can,  destroying most of the island.   The chimney remained standing,   and the boathouse was there for years following,  until it was dismantled.   I had heard that Butch and David Dewey both wanted to rebuild a cottage,  but could not agree as to whether it should be on the island or on a shore lot.  The island could have been rebuilt at the time as “extensive repairs”.   Apparently they could not agree,  and nothing was re-built.

CHAPTER 2 - Purchase of the cottage

Our family enjoyed our first summer renting the cottage.   It was being rented from the LaFrance family from Belleville that owned their summer home next door where Tom and Charlie Quinn own now.    Our cottage had been owned by the Campbell family.

I never met the Campbells,  but was reminded of their existence many times as a young boy with their names burned into paddles and other boating equipment around.  

 It seems that the LaFrances and Campbells didn’t get along very well.   Must have been like the Hatfields and the McCoys.  In the summer of ’52,  prior to our arrival in 1953,  my mother’s sister Ena Sinden and her husband Reg had rented the cottage from the Campbells,  who had it for sale.   The Campbells would not have entertained an offer from the LaFrances,  so the LaFrances had arranged for my aunt and uncle to present an offer to purchase the cottage,  and then closed it in their name.   This gave the LaFrances the opportunity to pick their next door neighbour.    Mom and Dad purchased the cottage from the LaFrances following our summer rental,   and the many wonderful years of living next door to Don and Freda LaFrance,  with daughter Donna,  started. 

I do remember that I couldn’t go outside and make any noise in the morning before 11 o’clock, in order to not wake up the LaFrances.   I could never understand anyone sleeping away the beautiful mornings at the lake.

 CHAPTER 3 - Hurricane Hazel

We had beautiful big pine trees all around our cottage,  and in front of it down by the lake.   No one would ever even think of cutting down any of them,  they were so beautiful.   In October of 1954,   Hurricane Hazel went through our area,  causing tremendous damage.  

 Luckily,  none of the trees landed on our cottage,   but it looked as though a bomb had been dropped.   A wonderful man by the name of Frances Calnan came to our rescue, and with his horse,  skidded the huge logs away into piles where they could be taken to a mill for lumber.   As a boy,  I couldn’t believe how wonderful it was to have all the trees down,  and the beautiful sunshine pouring through where it hadn’t shone for years.   As I mentioned before,   one would never have thought of cutting down any of the beautiful trees,   and it took Hurricane Hazel to do the unmentionable.  

 On the other side of the road from the cottages that went around the lake,  there was a entrance to a small road that did a loop back into the brush where the Steenburg Lake Association had a garbage dump for the cottagers on the north road.   Mr. Don LaFrance, our next door neighbour,  was the member of the association who was responsible for the dump.   I don’t think he was ever excited with his management title.  The reason I’m mentioning this at this point,  is that Mr. Calnan kept his work horse in a little wooden building at night in by the dump.   My big treat as an 8 or 9 year old boy was to be thrown up on the back of the big tired work horse at the end of the day,  and ride him to the wooden shed where he knew fresh hay,  a drink of cool water and rest waited for him.  Between opening up the sky and all this adventure,  Hurricane Hazel had been my friend.

CHAPTER 4 - A venture to buy a treat

 There were always lots of adventures to go on around the lake,  but as 8 or 9 year old boys one of the favorites that sticks in my memory was walking along the shore with my cousin or brother and sister by way of a small path quite close to the shoreline that led all the way along to what used to be called the “Bass Lake Lodge” in the north east corner of the lake.   We’d have a small amount of “coin” in our pockets,  and I think the plan our parents had was that for that small amount of coin,  they knew they could have peace and quiet around the cottage for a few hours.  There were a few cottages along the shore at the time,  and the neighbors were always pleased to see us walk by on our hike, giving us a friendly wave.   There were two ladies who would greet us at the lodge that seemed like older ladies to us at the time,  but I guess at the age of 8 or 9,  everybody seemed old.  In the screened porch of the lodge, there were large glass jars with screw-on tops in which the ladies kept chocolate bars in which they sold to the guests at the lodge or to anyone else that happened to drop in.  Those were the best chocolate bars I’ve ever eaten,  and the memory of eating them while wandering back along the trail towards home with my family members with me is one I’ll always treasure.   

 As we got older,  our trips became a little longer.   We’d travel by boat down through the gap between Walsh’s Island and Dr. Lilli Matheson’s point to eventually pull up our boat at the sand beach and walk from there out to Mawson’s General Store where Trudy’s place now operates.   Max Mawson and his wife  operated the store,  and any of us who were around at that time will remember how Max would come in from working on his tractor wiping his hands on a rag and slice you some cold meat or bologna if you wanted to buy some.   Another time when we bought some bananas,  the cat had chosen to have her kittens there,  so that was quite a treat for us kids.

 CHAPTER 5 - What’s in a name

 A man by the name of “Fisher” lived in the cottage on the other side of the LaFrance’s (now the Quinn’s) cottage.   You would regularly see Mr. Fisher trolling slowly up and down our bay from the point just past where Tom Hugh’s cottage is located to Dewey’s Island.   Mr. Fisher always had a string of fish he’d caught.  

 Mr. Fisher’s name was certainly fitting,  and it was only when Marilyn and I moved to Peterborough almost 40 years ago that I realized the significance of a name.  When we arrived in Peterborough at that time,  we had an internist by the name of Dr. Belch,  a podiatrist by the name of Dr. Foot,  lawyers by the names of Lawless and Crook and a gynecologist by the name of Dr. Butt.   

 Mr. Fisher will always be my introduction to significant names.

 CHAPTER 6 - A very special gift

 When the Fishers sold their cottage,  a family by the name of Yenovkian had purchased it.  They were a great couple probably in their 50’s or 60’s at the time,  and had come to our wonderful country from Armenia.   I can still vividly remember Mrs. Yenovkian telling me how her father and brother were led out in front of their house in Armenia when she was a girl and shot to death while she watched in horror.   Tears came to her eyes when she told me this story those many years later,  and I wondered how she could have slept at night.   

 The Yenovkians had a son John who was probably about 30 years of age,  and I remember how he loved visiting his mom and dad at the cottage.   They had about a 14 foot boat with a new shiny white 5 1/2 horsepower Johnson outboard motor on it,  and I remember how impressed I was at the time with that motor.

 In the fall of the first season that they were at the cottage,  Mr. Yenovkian let me know that they had one too many boats under their cottage,  and he took me under the cottage and showed me the boat he was going to let me have for my own the next spring when we came up to the cottage.   All that winter,  I dreamt about that boat,  and of all the wonderful times I was going to have with my very own boat.   My imagination exaggerated the condition and size of the boat,  and I can remember how disappointed I was when I first saw it the next spring.   It had a broken gunnel on the starboard side,  and needed some major repair.   Mr. Johncox who lived in the next cottage along and was one of my special friends saw my boat when I got it in the water,  and said he’d like to repair it for me.   As it so happened,  Mr. Johncox was a retired wood shop teacher from the USA,  and by the time he got through with my boat, it looked as good as new.  What a wonderful gift both of them had given to me, just a young boy that I was.

 I made myself a deck for the boat in front of the middle seat,  and with a sheet of 3/4 inch plywood cut into a disc for the steering wheel and some galvanized  plumbing parts as a steering shaft,  I was able to sit in the middle seat facing forward to drive my boat.  Now all I needed was a motor.  Mom and Dad had an Eaton’s Viking 5 horsepower motor with a speed lever across the front of it and an integral gas tank.   They let me borrow it to put on my boat,  and when I filled the gas tank on the motor right to the top,  it would give me just enough gas for me to sit at my steering wheel and go all the way around the shore of the lake,  all three bays,   and run out of gas right at the front of our cottage.

 I was one happy little boy at the cottage that summer!!