The Legend of Skeleton Lake And Other Folk Tales

A spiritual fall visit to the cemetery -  A beautiful fall afternoon at St. George’s Anglican Cemetery in Cooper’s Falls with only the sound of the rustling leaves in the cool fall breeze.   The many weathered monuments stand as a proud memorial to the many pioneers who cleared the land to settle the area. (Photo by Fred Schulz)

THE LEGEND OF SKELETON LAKE, FACT OR FICTION; BUT A GREAT FOLK TALE FROM PIONEER TIMES

CREATED BY METEOR IMPACT? THIS BEAUTIFUL MUSKOKA LAKE HAS ITS MYSTERIES


    IT'S HUMID OUT. I'VE BEEN WORKING AROUND THE YARD, EARLY THIS EVENING, TO PREPARE FOR THE COMING RAIN WE'RE SUPPOSED TO GET SOMETIME BEFORE THE MORNING. IT WAS SO NICE TO HEAR THE YOUNGSTERS OUT PLAYING, ON PROPERTIES BORDERING THE BOG.....AND IT REALLY IS NEAT TO HEAR THEIR LAUGHTER, MIXED SO SENTIMENTALLY, WITH THE SOUND OF THE LEAVES FALLING, HITTING THE GARDENS AROUND OUR HOUSE. IN THE PAST SEVERAL HOURS, IT HAS GONE FROM A PLEASANTLY COOL DAY, TO BEING ONE QUITE HOT, AND HUMID, ESPECIALLY IN HERE RIGHT NOW. I WISH I HAD WRITTEN THIS SOONER TODAY, BUT WE WERE OUT TRAVELING THIS AFTERNOON, TAKING IN THE AUTUMN SIGHTS AND OF COURSE, STOPPING IN AT ALL OUR FAVORITE ANTIQUE VENUES. IT WAS JUST A NICE SUNDAY, MIXING A LITTLE HOME IMPROVEMENT WITH RECREATION....AND WITH OF COURSE A LITTLE BUSINESS THROWN IN. I HAVE RUSTLED-UP A FEW MORE FOLK TALES TO ADD TO THIS SMALL SERIES OF BLOGS ON OUR SOCIAL - CULTURAL PAST.
      "BEFORE THE ACTS OF DEVELOPMENT LEAD US INTO THE 1870'S, THERE ARE INCIDENTS IN THE LIVES OF OUR PEOPLE, THAT IT WILL BE OF INTEREST TO RECORD," WRITES FAMILY HISTORIAN, BERT SHEA, IN HIS BOOK, "HISTORY OF THE SHEAS, BIRTH OF A TOWNSHP." AS IT HAS BEEN SAID, THE WORK OF THE SURVEY WAS THE FIRST SOURCE OF INCOME TO THE SHEAS. YOUNG WILLIAM, AND LATER, JOHN L., IN WORKING WITH THE SURVEYORS, IN THEIR ARRANGEMENT, THE MEN LIVED A COMPLETE OUT-OF-DOOR LIFE. IN THOSE DAYS IN DEEP OF WINTER, THE BRUSH SHANTY WAS THEIR SHELTER; AN OPEN FIRE AT THE DOOR."
     HE CONTINUES, "AS JOHN L. SAID, 'EVERYONE SLEPT WITH THEIR FEET TO THE FIRE AND MANY A NIGHT I SLEPT WITH MY BOOTS UNDER MY HEAD FOR A PILLOW.' THE BLANKETS AND GRUB WAS SUPPLIED BY THE GOVERNMENT BUT WE HAD TO BRING IT. THIS WAS PART OF CAMP MANAGEMENT TO SEE SUPPLIES WERE KEPT UP. AT CERTAIN PLACES, CACHES WERE MADE. THE PLACES OF STORAGE WERE OF NECESSITY, MADE OF LOGS FOR SUFFICIENT SECURITY TO KEEP THE BEARS OUT; THAT WERE FOND OF BACON. ONE OF THESE CACHES WERE ON LOT 13, CON. 5, ON THE HILLSIDE NORTHEAST OF THE FALLS. IT WAS IN FEBRUARY, WE WERE CAMPED IN NORTH CARDWELL. I WAS SENT DOWN TO OUR CACHE AT THE FALLS TO GET A BAG OF FLOUR AND A SIDE OF PORK. THE SNOWSHOWING WAS VERY GOOD IN THE BUSH, BUT THE LAKES I HAD TO CROSS, THERE WAS NO SIGN OF A TRAIL.
     "I HAD A HAND SLEIGH WITH WIDE RUNNERS. I REACHED THE STORE-HOUSE, GOT THE FLOUR AND PORK AND STARTED THE RETURN TRIP. I WAS WEARING LEATHER SHOEPAKS, AND ONE SHIRT. THE TRIP WOULD BE TWENTY MILES THAT DAY WITH TEN MILES OF LOAD UP HILL AND DOWN. AS THE DAY WORE ON THE TEMPERATURE BEGAN TO FALL; THE LAKES WERE TERRIBLY HEAVY GOING; IT WAS IN THE NIGHT WHEN I GOT INTO CAMP WITH MY LOAD. MY BOOTS WERE FROZEN ON MY FEET AND MY FEET WERE ALSO FROZEN. I NEVER GOT OVER THAT TRIP. MY FEET WERE NEVER THE SAME."
     BERT SHEA CARRIES ON HIS STORY, NOTING, "HE TOLD US ABOUT A FIND THAT FOR YEARS WAS OF MUCH INTEREST TO ME. I WAS A BOY AT THE TIME AND NEVER FORGOT THE STORY. THE SURVEYORS HAD CROSSED SKELETON LAKE, AND WERE WORKING SOMEWHERE ON THE NORTH SHORE. THEY FOUND TWO HUMAN SKELETONS LAYING ON THE ROCKS. APPARENTLY TWO PEOPLE HAD DIED THERE ALONE AND NO ONE HAD FOUND THEM TILL THE SURVEYORS CAME, AND BY THE APPEARANCE OF THE BONES, THEY HAD LAIN THERE FOR SEVERAL YEARS. THIS STORY STAYED IN MY MIND, AND MANY TIMES HAVE I THOUGHT OF IT AND WONDERED. THE YEARS PASSED BY AND I BECAME OVER MIDDLE AGE; THE OLD PIONEERS HAD GONE WHO KNEW OF THE INCIDENT. MANY ASK THE QUESTION, 'HOW DID SKELETON LAKE GET ITS NAME?' WHO COULD ANSWER, SHROUDED IN MYSTERY? FEW, IF ANY, I THOUGHT, OTHER THAN MYSELF, WHO KNEW THE FIRST HAND STORY OF THE SKELETONS, TILL ONE DREARY AFTERNOON IN NOVEMBER, ONE OF THOSE LATE AUTUMN DAYS WHEN THE GLORIES OF ALL NATURE SEEM BURIED; AND WE LONG FOR SOMEONE OR SOMETHING TO FILL THE LONGING DEEP DOWN IN OUR HEART; SOMEONE TO CONVERSE WITH, WHO TOO ARE DREAMING OF OTHER DAYS, AND FRIENDS THEY HAVE KNOWN.
     "I SAID TO MY WIFE, BERNICE, LET'S GO OVER AND SEE BILL HAMMELL AND MRS. HAMMELL. PERHAPS THEY ARE ALONE TOO. NOW THE HAMMELLS AND THE SHEAS WERE OLD PIONEER FRIENDS AND WHEN I KNOCKED AT HIS DOOR, AND HE OPENED IT, THE SMILE OF HIS FACE SHONE WITH THE GLOW OF PIONEER FRIENDSHIPS. AS THEY WELCOMED US INTO THEIR HOME. IT WAS NOT HARD TO LEAD THE OLD GENTLEMAN INTO CONVERSATION OF YESTERYEARS. AND WHEN I SPOKE OF THE TWO SKELETONS, HIS EYES BEAMED WITH INTEREST. 'YES,' SAID HE, 'I CAN TELL YOU, THIS AFFAIR WAS A MYSTERY TO OUR PEOPLE AND WE THOUGHT MUCH OF IT, BUT BY GRANDFATHER ROBISON, WHO LIVED UP IN CARDWELL, LEARNED FROM THE INDIAN CHIEF OF THAT DAY, HE AND HIS PEOPLE HAD CAMPED FOR THE WINTER ON THAT SITE. THE LAKE WAS AN EXCELLENT ONE FOR TROUT, AND THE SWAMPS OF CARDWELL WERE USUALLY THE YARDING PLACES FOR THE DEER. BUT WHATEVER TOOK PLACE, DUE TO LACK OF FOOD, THE CAMP WAS FACING STARVATION; THEY MUST MOVE THOUGH IN THE WINTER; IF NOT, ONLY DEATH BY STARVATION FACED THE WHOLE CAMP. SOME OF THEIR MEMBERS WERE ALREADY WEAK. AND ONE BOY WAS UNABLE TO MOVE, AND WOULD HAVE TO BE LEFT. HIS MOTHER, A YOUNG SQUAW, WHO HAD LOST HER HUSBAND, REFUSED TO LEAVE HER SON, ABOUT FOURTEEN YEARS OLD, TO DIE ON THE BLEAK SHORES OF THE LAKE; THAT AFTERWORD SHOULD BE A LASTING MEMORIAL TO ESPECIALLY THE AFFECTION OF A MOTHER FOR HER HELPLESS SON."
     THE HISTORIAN WRITES, "THERE IS LITTLE MORE TO SAY, SAVE THAT WHEN THE VOICES OF HER PEOPLE FADED FROM HER HEARING, THE DEATHLY SILENCE OF WINTER SETTLED IN AROUND THEM. A MOTHER AND HER SON. THE REMAINS OF THE FIRE BURNED LOW AS THE COLD CREPT TO THE MARROW OF THE BONE. SILENCE REIGNED, AND SLEEP, THAT GHASTLY THING GIVEN FROM THE HAND OF THE FROST KING, THE SNOW SPIRITS, BORN ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND, PLAYED OVER THE PLOT, AND COVERED THE TWO LIFELESS FORMS IN A SHROUD OF WHITE. THE FOREST SAPPED IN THE FROST, AND IN THE NIGHT THE POLAR STAR LOOKED ON UNMOVED IN HIS STARS, FROM SOME HEIGHT. THE BLOOD CURDLING HOWL OF THE OLD DOG WOLF, WHO HAD LED HIS PACK OF WHELPS AND BITCHES INTO THE DEER YARDING AREA OF CARDWELL BESPOKE SLAUGHTER AND DEATH. YES, THE DEATH OF A MOTHER AND SON, THROUGH STARVATION."
     AS A LONG-SERVING REGIONAL HISTORY MYSELF, I OWE A HUGE DEBT OF GRATITUDE TO BERT SHEA, FOR THE TWO IMPORTANT BOOKS HE WROTE ON HIS FAMILY HERITAGE, AND THE CHRONICLE OF WATT TOWNSHIP, THE LOGGING INDUSTRY IN MUSKOKA, AND SOCIAL, CULTURAL HISTORY AS IT PREVAILED IN THAT PIONEER HAMLET BORDERING THE SHORE OF THREE MILE LAKE, IN THE PRESENT TOWNSHIP OF MUSKOKA LAKES. HE WAS AS MUCH, A CONSERVER OF FOLK TALES AND LOCAL LORE. EVEN BY HIS OWN ADMISSION, HE HAD MISSED A LOT OF PIONEER TALES, AS THOSE WHO WITNESSED THEM HAD PASSED ON, BEFORE HE COULD HARVEST THEIR OBSERVATIONS. HE WRITES, OF THIS, AS FOLLOWS:
     "WITH HESITATION, BUT WITH DEEP CONCERN, I HAVE TAKEN UP THE PEN TO RECORD THE HISTORY OF MY FAMILY; THE SHEAS, LEST AT THIS DATE I FAIL THIS, A DUTY TO OUR RACE; LEST THE RECORD SHOULD BE LOST THAT I HAVE BEEN PRIVILEGED TO HEAR FROM THE TONGUE OF THE ELDERS, WHOM I HAVE BEEN PRIVILEGED TO KNOW, OF RECORDS HANDED DOWN TO THEM, AS WELL AS IN LATER YEARS, THE FIRST HAND ACCOUNTS OF THEIR OWN EXPERIENCES AND ADVENTURES. I HOLD IN MY HEART, A DEEP SENSE OF GRATITUDE FOR THE TOWNSHIP OF WATT, AS WHEN FRIENDS AND RELATIONS FAILED IN MY PEOPLE AND THEY WERE HOMELESS, AND ALMOST DESTITUTE OF A PLACE TO LAY THEIR HEADS, THE GREAT ANCIENT FORESTS OF WATT RECEIVED THEM, AS ITS OWN, AND GAVE SHELTER AND WARMTH, WITH MEAT FROM ITS EARTH AND HIDDEN BOWERS.
     "AND FOR THREE MILE LAKE, WHOSE FIRST SIGHT WAS A VIEW OF SPOTLESS WHITE AND AS THE CHANGING SEASON BROUGHT ITS SPARKLING WATERS, THAT GAVE FROM THEIR DEPTHS SUPPORT FOR LIFE AND RECREATION TO MY FATHERS; WHOSE CANOES OFT CUT THEY WATERS, AND WHOSE BEAUTY OFT CAUSED THEIR SOULS RESPONSE, AND VOICES RAISED IN SONG. BECAUSE I LOVE THEE AND THY MEMORIES; I DO WRITE ABOUT THEY SHORES AS THE GREAT FOREST TREES. SHEAS HAVE SET THEIR ROOTS, THE PARENT TREE HAS CAST ITS SED THAT HAS SPREAD TO DISTANT PARTS OF THE EARTH. BUT YET OUR HOME IS BY THY GLISTENING WATERS AND THE EARTH THAT HAS SO BOUNTIFULLY FED, SHALL GIVE ME COVER WHEN I LAY WITH THEM TO SLEEP."
     BERT SHEA LOVED MUSKOKA, AND HIS BOOKS REFLECT THIS UNYIELDING PASSION.
     SUZANNE AND I  ALWAYS ENJOY OUR TWICEW WEEKLY DRIVE BETWEEN BRACEBRIDGE AND GRAVENHURST, ALONG OUR FAVORITE MUSKOKA BEACH ROAD. THE AUTUMN COLORS ARE DEEPENIING, AND A LOT OF LEAVES ARE ALREADY SPIRALLING TO EARTH. THE TEMPERATURES ARE MUCH WARMER TODAY AND THE SUNSHINE, WELL, AS PERFECT AS THE SKY; APPEARING SO ENDLESS, AND BEAUTIFULLY BLUE. IT'S HARD NOT TO BE AFFECTED IN SOME WAY, BY THIS DRAMATIC CHANGE OF SEASON, AND SPELLBOUND BY THE TWISTS AND TURNS OF THIS WINDING COUNTRY ROAD, THROUGH THE HAUNTED MUSKOKA WOODLANDS. WE DROVE THROUGH MANY OF THE THICK, WINDBLOWN SPIRALS OF OLD LEAVES, DUSTING LIGHTLY UPON THE PASTURES AND LANES, AND WHEN WE STOPPED FOR A WEE RESPITE, WE COULD CLEARLY HEAR THE WHISPER OF WIND THROUGH THE PINE BOUGHS THAT BORDER THE ROAD; OVER THE CAWING OF SEVERAL CROWS IN THE PINE TOPS. THE AREA I CALL THE MAPLE CATHEDRAL, IS AN ALMOST HEAVENLY VISION, ON THE APPROACH FROM THE SOUTH, AND ALL THE VOYEUR CAN HEAR, WHEN ALL ELSE IS QUIET, IS THE GENTLE LANDINGS OF THE LEAVES UPON THEMSELVES, STILL WET WITH MORNING DEW. IT IS AN IDENTIFIABLE ENCHANTMENT, YOU FIND YOURSELF AMDIST, AND AT THE SAME TIME, LIKE THE AUTUMN SEASON IS FAMOUS FOR, IT'S LOGICAL THAT WE WILL, AT SOME CROSSROAD, OR LOOKOUT, FIND OURSELVES BECOMING SENTIMENTAL AND NOSTALGIC, FOR THOSE DAYS OF ONCE, WITH FAMILY; WHEN WE COULD, WITHOUT FEAR OF WHAT IT WOULD LOOK LIKE, TO OUR PEERS, JUMP INTO THE NEWLY PILED LEAVES, AND MAKE SILLY IN PLAY, IN THE SPRAY OF LIGHT BEAMS, BLOTCHING ONTO THE FLOOR OF LEAVES, LIKE AN ARTIST'S PALETTE, FROM THE BORDERING BIRCHES AND PICTURESQUE MAPLES.
     THERE ARE TIMES, IN THIS SOOTHING SOLITUDE, THAT ALONE, WE MIGHT FEEL A WARM HAND SUDDENLY SLIP INTO OURS, WHILE REMINISCING ABOUT THOSE WE USED TO WALK WITH, ALONG THESE SAME COUNTRYSIDE LANES.....OR HEAR A VOICE CALL OUT TO US, WHEN NO ONE IS ANYWHERE NEAR. IF YOU WERE TO HEAR A CHILD'S LAUGHTER, OR THE SWEET SINGING OF AN AUNT OR MOTHER, FROM YOUR OWN CHRONICLE, THEN YOU SHOULD BE PLEASED THESE MEMORIES HAVE BEEN SET FREE, AS YOU FIND YOURSELF, TO MEANDER AS YOU WISH, THIS PAINTED MUSKOKA LAKELAND.
     "A CHIEFTAIN FROM THE HIGHLANDS BOUND, AS WELL YE ALL MAY KNOW, TO SEEK FOR ME A HAPPY HOME, BY ROSSEAU'S SPARKLING GLOW. BY LOCK AND FERN I'LL SETTLE DOWN, AND SWEAR TO LEAVE IT NEVER, FOR 'TIS THE PLACE I HAVE SOUGHT SO LONG, MY HOME AKIN TO HEAVEN."
(BERT SHEA, BIRTH OF A TOWNSHIP)
     THIS IS LIVING HISTORY.