Photographer: Glenn Lowson
A place that once rang with the revivalist oratory of 19th-century Methodist preachers is enjoying a revival of its own on the southern shore of Lake Ontario.
Dozens of Victorian cottages, built in the 1870s and '80s and once hidden behind layers of asphalt shingle siding and wood panel "modernization," have already been restored in Grimsby, Ontario. Dozens more patiently await their moment of renovation glory.
It still makes Elizabeth Buchan laugh when she thinks of her husband Alan's reaction to the tired little cottage she discovered at Grimsby Park in 1990. "Appalled," is the word she uses to describe the look on his face.
Mrs. Buchan quickly grasped what the cottage could look like if they ripped off the siding and reopened the verandah and upper porch that had been enclosed. Her sales pitch was aided by a couple of already restored cottages nearby.
"I finally said okay, but she had to be the quarterback," says Mr. Buchan. "She could see the potential."
He took a sledge hammer to that enclosed verandah, then, piece by piece, the couple tore away the modern touches that concealed their Victorian beauty's original character. Once they ripped away the siding, the carpet, linoleum and plywood, they began to reintroduce features that had defined their home in its days as a simple summer residence, a time when Grimsby Park was a favourite tourist destination.
There is nothing grand about The Park, the old "beach" area of Grimsby, a town of 24,000 halfway between Hamilton and St. Catharines. Its charm lies in its simplicity and affordability. Property frontages are perhaps 30 feet, and homes - the Buchans' is 14 feet, 9 inches wide - might fetch $300,000, if they're particularly tarted up.
But this is a place where history is much appreciated. Residents know Grimsby Park thrived during the mid-19th century as a Methodist summer church camp. Tents began to give way to board and batten cottages in the 1870s, elaborately trimmed with gingerbread fretwork.
Built on original narrow tent lots, the cottages, too, were long and narrow. The typical cottage contained 400 or so square feet of space on each of two floors. The bottom storey was an open living and dining area with a summer kitchen at the back. The upper level was an open sleeping area.
In those days, liquor and "unseemly language" were strictly forbidden at the Ontario Methodist Camp Ground, but when the religious camp was turned into an amusement park about 1910, things started to loosen up.
Grimsby historian and author Dorothy Turcotte visited in the 1930s when she says the cottages were still well maintained. But as Muskoka Cottage Country became increasingly popular after the Second World War, Grimsby Park's cottages were converted to year-round residences, porches were enclosed and siding was slapped on over the board and batten.
By the 1970s, "it really looked like a slum," observes Turcotte, who wrote the book, Greetings From Grimsby Park, about the area's creation, demise and rebirth.
Dozens of The Park's cottages have been saved from a less glorious existence. Some of these gingerbread-bedecked gems - including the Buchans' - are finished in muted shades that reflect Methodist tastes. Others shun tradition in blazing reds, shocking pinks and gaudy turquoises.
Together, these cottages have come to be known affectionately as Grimsby's Painted Ladies.
Mr. Buchan isn't shy about admitting his failure to appreciate the potential of the ugly duckling he and his wife purchased. But hey, he says, who can blame him?
Like many others, their cottage's original front verandah and upper porch had been enclosed to add interior space and the outside was covered in asphalt shingle, with two more layers of siding beneath. Inside, the floors were carpeted, with a plywood underlay, tile and linoleum beneath. The interior walls were finished in rec-room pine panelling. And there was a 1½-inch sag in the ceiling between the first and second floors.
The couple took up residence in January 1991, just in time for the pipes to freeze. Mr. Buchan was unable to squeeze beneath the house to thaw them so as soon as spring came, he dug a proper crawl space.
After fixing the saggy ceiling, they lived in the house, pretty well as-is, for two or three years as they pondered how to proceed. "Then we brought the bed down to the front of the house and lived entirely downstairs while we worked upstairs," says Mr. Buchan. "Then we moved upstairs and did the downstairs."
Once they removed the layers of flooring, they discovered the original pine-board floors had been painted blue. The Buchans hand-stripped the paint and stained the boards.
Mr. Buchan removed the drywall ceiling. "I cut out the first piece and discovered there were three layers of material. It was so heavy, that first piece swung down and knocked me off the ladder, right into the wall."
In deference to the original plan, they left the downstairs open, except for the back porch, which they have just finished as a modern country cottage kitchen.
Upstairs, they installed new beams to strengthen the roof and added the only drywall that exists in the place today, leaving the beams exposed. They took out all the interior doors but the one to the only bathroom, and added curtains to the two bedroom entranceways.
The Buchans' magic moment came as they excavated through the years of renovations to unearth the porch they were certain existed at the front of the house.
"We pulled up the floors," says Mr. Buchan. "We could immediately see the floor underneath was sloped, so we realized we'd reached the original porch. Liz reached through a hole in the wall and she said, 'oh, I can feel the pillar.' That was the moment. It really motivates you, when you realize what you've found."
Today, they can relax on the porch of the home they've christened Seagull Cottage and enjoy the park across the street, a serene space filled with massive chestnut trees. When the leaves fall, they catch glimpses of Lake Ontario. The bell that once summoned people to church services is on display. Nearby, a white pine stands as evidence of the forest that once covered the area and went into cottage construction.
Recently, the Buchans capped off their renovation with a modernized kitchen. To ensure it melds with the rest of the house, Mrs. Buchan went to work on the brand-new wood flooring. She added nail holes to replicate worm holes, beat the wood with chains and applied two coats of dark stain. They added white country cupboards, then finished the ceiling in tin panels obtained from an old hardware store.
One modern necessity was insulation. The house is of balloon frame construction, in which the studs extend uninterrupted from the foundation plate to the rafter plate. Once it had been stripped to the frame and exterior board-and-batten siding, two-inch polystyrene foam insulation was inserted between the inside studs. Board siding was added inside, then screws were attached through the insulation and into the exterior siding. A batten strip covers the interior screw heads.
Now the 900-square-foot house is kept cozy by a single gas fireplace in the front room, boosted by a blower.
The house isn't large, but the Buchans believe in the theory that less is more. "Who needs all that space of a monster home?" asks Mrs. Buchan. Together with a comfortable and private back yard, "we've got all we need right here."
Special to The Globe and Mail