its special appeal to the palate that posh hotels and restaurants in New York City made a feature of Muskoka Lamb on their menus.”
Tourists enjoy a horseback ride at the Swastika Hotel in Bala. This three-storey brick hotel was built in 1910 by E.B. Sutton and his son Fred. The hotel name changed during the Second World War. Today, we know it as the Bala Bay Hotel.
Courtesy of Bob Sutton
Fred also recalled an eccentric character who came to the Swastika Hotel: “In August, 1926, a guest arrived in a Ford Coupe and registered as Captain Venus. He was wearing a Mountie’s hat and claimed to be a member of the Force. He explained the absence of his tunic by saying it was at the cleaners. His personality was likable and conversation interesting. We seated him at my own table and we enjoyed his company.
“During the day he policed the area, controlling traffic, ordering defective cars off the road, and so on. An elderly lady, with her nurse/ companion, happened to be staying at the hotel at the same time. The nurse, probably suffering from boredom and thinking we were having too much fun with the Mountie, persuaded me to move him to their table. He very gallantly squired the lady on canoe trips and walks and, incidentally, borrowed 10 dollars. Late the second day, I was surprised to see two uniformed Mounties at the desk asking for Captain Venus. They were sent to his room and they all went out together a few minutes later. I was on the point of retiring when Venus came in and asked for his bill. Next morning I found he had spent the night in the lock-up.
“We discovered later that he was a mental patient from Whitby, Ontario. Shell-shocked in World War I, he had a fine war record, in fact, among some papers found in his room was a letter from a commanding officer recommending him for the Victoria Cross. His mental quirks caused him to run away from the institution and pose as a person of authority.
“The Toronto Star of September 25th, 1926, reported at some length the story I have just told and another escapade of his at Port Hope, Ontario. There he apparently posed as an officer from the Department of Health; he closed dairies and generally caused havoc with the local Board of Health.
“I rather suspect it was the nurse’s ten-spot that paid my bill.”
Today it is said the Bala Bay Inn is haunted. It may be the ghost of Thomas Burgess, upset that alcohol is now served in his establishment — or it may be E.B., who promised to communicate from “the other side.”
Bala, with numerous shops and parks along the river and bay side, is still a major tourist centre during the summer months. Among the shops there is a very special art gallery, right on the main street of Bala. The owner and operator is Carol News, a member of Wahta First Nations Mohawk community. High quality carvings, paintings, beading, basketry, and some other materials can be had in the gallery.
Each year a major cranberry festival occurs the weekend after Thanksgiving. Local cranberry growers, the Johnsons, offer guided tours of their operation and sell a variety of cranberry products, including their very own cranberry wine. It is truly a learning experience, not to mention a lot of fun, to explore their cranberry marsh. Artisans also arrive that weekend to set up along the main streets and in the arena; here we are, now in the 21st century, and Dunn’s Pavillion is still humming and freshly painted.
The Baldoon Mysteries
Fact or fiction, what you are about to read supposedly took place more than 160 years ago and remains an incredible tale in the history of Ontario.
Our story begins with John McDonald and his family, who experienced several spine-tingling events in a place called Baldoon. Nervous of future occurrences and the possibility that their lives were in danger, the McDonalds struggled against invisible dark forces. They were plagued by some malevolent energy that interrupted their lives and defied explanation. Nothing seemed to function as it should. Surely, they had been cursed.
What was Baldoon really like? The community was located in southwestern Ontario on low, wet lands that were surveyed in 1802. It was Lord Alexander Selkirk who sought to attract Scottish Highlanders to the area. In return for this, Selkirk himself would be granted 150 acres for every colonist he procured. It would seem that the settlement of Baldoon was founded on less-than-benevolent principles. These early colonists had no way of knowing just how uninhabitable this land really was. By 1804 the first settlers’ eager anticipation had vanished into the mist.
Despite difficult circumstances, many newcomers laboured to create a new life here. One determined soul was John McDonald. Around 1804 he and his wife built a sturdy frame house. For a short time John and his beloved lived in peace and soon heard the pit-a-pat of little feet. It was, however, a short-lived dream. A series of mysterious persecutions began. John and his family did not live in isolation — a very unusual family resided close by. Others in the area referred to this family as the people of the long, low, log house; they were a family that consisted of an old woman, her two sons, and one daughter. They were somewhat reclusive and unsociable people with few associations in their community.
The land of John McDonald had been coveted by the people of the long, low, log house. They approached him on several occasions with offers of purchase, but John always refused. (Was this decision connected to all the mysteries he and his family encountered?)
In those days the wives wove homespun cloth for clothing and straw into hats for protection from the blazing sun. These were shared activities among the settlers. One fine day while the men were occupied with farm duties, the young women gathered at the McDonald barn to pick and prepare straw for an afternoon of hat-making. The barn was built of logs and inside it were poles that stretched from side to side overhead, forming hangers for the flax.
As the women sat chatting and working, they were startled by the sudden plunge of one of the flax poles overhead. Although the pole fell right in their midst, it struck no one. Then a second of these poles crashed, and a third! The ladies fled to the house. No sooner were they inside than there was the crash of glass and a lead bullet lay at their feet, then another, and finally a shower of bullets came and the young women fled the house. There were no explanations for this.
For a few days all was peaceful on the McDonald farm. Then, one evening close to midnight, John was awakened by the sound of marching men, moving backwards and forwards with measured steps, then stillness, then more heavy tramping, but no one was to be seen. For three successive years many unexplainable manifestations afflicted the McDonald family.
Bullets through the windows became almost a daily occurrence. John finally barricaded the windows with heavy boards. The bullets passed through the wood, without leaving a mark! By this time the whole countryside was aware, alert and alarmed.
John McDonald was really beside himself. He and his family were anxious and tense from this relentless activity. They had been haunted by noises in the night, cups and saucers flying through the air, and their house was even reported to rise at one end or the other by as much as one metre (three feet).
An officer in the British army, Captain Lewis Bennett, visited Baldoon specifically to meet with the McDonald family and examine the situation. During his visit Bennett’s own gun exploded for no apparent reason, and he witnessed the hauntings first-hand. One incident involved a baby in a cradle who suddenly began to scream as though in pain. She could not be consoled, but when picked up, a hot stone was discovered beneath the blankets. When the stone was removed another appeared. This was repeated several times. Little balls of fire were seen floating in mid-air and settling in various parts of the house. Every room in the house experienced this kind of fire.
The hauntings began to intensify.
