Ontario couple to keep remote Nova Scotia lodge 'a place for dreams'
Sarah Garton Stanley, Tracey Erin Smith moved from Ontario after falling in love with Birchdale
Tracey Erin Smith once woke from a vivid dream that she was an "earthy" 65-year-old who shared the beauty of her home in the wilderness with guests who rented cottages, each with a unique view of a pristine lake.
She felt a surge of love for this future self and wrote about the dream in a looseleaf notebook, only to forget about it as the years passed.
Twenty years to the day after she described the vision in red ink, Smith and her partner, Sarah Garton Stanley, put in an offer to purchase 23.4 hectares of secluded lakefront in rural Nova Scotia.
Known as Birchdale, it's a property of local intrigue beloved by many in the area.
"It's a place for dreams, there's no question," said Stanley. "I'm sure there were tons of people who dreamt about it, but we were the ones who actually thought, 'Let's do it.'"
On Jan. 4, 2000, Tracey Erin Smith wrote down one of her dreams in a notebook. Nearly 20 years later, the memory of it came back to her while she was standing near the lake at Birchdale and suddenly the property felt familiar. The framed entry hangs in one of the cabins. (Robert Short/CBC)
The transition from their life split between a Toronto apartment and a home in Kingston, Ont., to an off-the-grid cabin without phone service was never anticipated. They both have busy careers in theatre based in Ontario.
Smith had never even visited Nova Scotia. Her mother once remarked that she should live in a hotel, due to her disinclination toward cooking and housekeeping.
But Stanley — who her partner said has always been more adept at fixing things — had been keeping an eye out for a rural property for some time when she stumbled upon the listing for Birchdale, a former hunting and fishing lodge outside Kemptville, N.S., that boasted a storied history.
Built in 1911 by the last man hanged for murder in Yarmouth County, the lakeside retreat was for decades beloved by families, frequented by celebrities drawn by its remoteness and sought after by sport hunters. Later, it became the home of a group of Carmelite monks.
The lodge operated from 1911 onward. Staff would cut down trees on the property to ensure there were logs to keep the fire in the large hearth in the main going all day. (Birchdalelake.com)
Stanley first pulled up the listing for Smith in a coffee shop.
"I'd never seen anything like it in my entire life," said Smith. "It was magical in terms of the nature, of time travel, in terms of the cabins and just the most unique, self-contained, tiny village I'd ever seen."
Becoming the new owners wasn't as easy as making the financial bid, however. Birchdale's most recent proprietor, an American named Helen Matthews, had a particular vision for its future.
In the fall of 2019, she told CBC News that Birchdale "should belong to a Canadian and should belong to someone who cares about it, and its history and will keep it open" to the community who cherished it.
Helen Matthews owned Birchdale for 18 years and used to spend half her year there, and the other half in New York. She decided to sell after realizing she could no longer maintain it on her own. (Robert Short/CBC)
After seeing the CBC story about her unusual search — and the immense response it received on social media — Stanley and Smith realized their hidden gem wasn't staying that way. They booked a flight and spent 24 hours in Nova Scotia that November, touring the property with a real estate agent, and Stanley's brother and sister-in-law, who live an hour's drive away.
It was on that visit that Smith realized the pine-needle sprinkled paths between 15 rustic cabins felt familiar. For the first time in years, she thought of the dream she'd recounted all those years ago.
Immediately, she felt a sense of belonging. For the first time, she could envision a life there.
Aspire to be 'good stewards'
Back in Toronto, Stanley scoured Smith's files until she found the notebook page that referenced the dream. For the next couple of months, they deliberated.
On Jan. 4, 2020, timing it with the entry, they put their offer in while sitting in the parking lot of a Loblaws the night Stanley opened a show in Toronto. The $890,000 sale went through in March, just as the pandemic hit.
The cabins at Birchdale are spread out along the shore of South Carrying Lake. (Robert Short/CBC)
Though Matthews referred to herself as the gatekeeper of Birchdale, Smith and Stanley have a slightly different perspective on their new home, where they plan to live for at least six months a year.
"We feel like we're stewards, and we hope that we can be good stewards for this place," said Stanley. "We aspire to reach her hopes for what we might be as the owners to follow in her footsteps."
Work parties
Instead of spending their first summer at Birchdale alongside Matthews learning about the nuances of the aging log buildings and the maintenance required, Smith and Stanley found themselves arriving alone to self-isolate with very little hands-on experience. Matthews remained stuck in the U.S. due to the border closure.
The main lodge at Birchdale remains a spot for visitors to gather, with a large table, fireplace and kitchen area. Smith and Stanley live in one of the other cabins. The main lodge and some of the cabins have generators that pump in water from wells. (Robert Short/CBC)
From the absolute darkness to the wildlife — the screech of a red fox came as a particular shock one night — to the logistics of emptying mousetraps and coping with unexpected floods and falling trees, the women said the scale of the adjustment "was shocking."
"It was a real massive learning curve for the two of us to negotiate what our strengths are, what our weaknesses are," said Stanley. They survived, and say they managed to laugh along the way.
Mementoes of more than a century of visitors and residents are displayed in the main lodge, which was built in 1911. (Robert Short/CBC)
Matthews, who is in her late 70s, guided them from afar, sending 18 pages of handwritten instructions and offering tips over a phone line as the women called from the one building with sporadic cell service. They said she'd cheer when one of her tips worked.
"She was so invested in our success and Birchdale continuing to be this amazing place for people," said Smith.
There are 15 cabins at Birchdale, all of which have wood-burning stoves. Eight have running water, thanks to wells and a water tower that draws in water from South Carrying Road Lake. (Robert Short/CBC)
Matthews wasn't the only person to lend a hand. People from the area have volunteered their time and skills, arriving for "work parties" where they gave the women guidance and helped tackle projects — from splitting wood to new roofs and stairs — all while sharing stories and preparing food for the group to enjoy.
"We're from major cities where this was not something that you see done and then to watch people, you know, drive from far distances and bring their own equipment and say, 'OK, what do you need?' And then do it. It was really very moving," said Smith.
"They taught us how to be helped," added Stanley.
Open houses planned
Last summer, in an effort to meet the local community amid COVID restrictions, the couple hosted an open house. Two hundred people visited. Among them was a woman in her 90s who'd spent her honeymoon at Birchdale in 1949.
"She showed us which cabin it was, there were photographs. Incredible stories," said Smith.
Throughout the year, they've met other people who credit Birchdale for changing the direction of their lives — including those who received guidance from Matthews or the religious order that preceded her. Others stayed on the property as youngsters when it was still a lodge.
Outdoorsmen would visit for the hunting and fishing seasons in the spring and fall. Families would often stay during the quieter summer months. (Birchdalelake.com)
"They'll point to buildings and say, 'Oh, I worked on that, my uncle worked on that.' And so everywhere there's sweat from so many people in this place," said Smith.
There are monthly by registration "Birchdale Afternoons" planned for this summer, the next one being July 18.
One of their visitors will be Matthews, who they've still only connected with by phone. She plans to return as soon as she's able to travel.
No plans to become hoteliers
Stanley and Smith purchased the property in hopes it could continue to be a refuge, one with the potential for sustainable communal living. What it won't be, they say, is a party destination or one that's rented out to large groups. First and foremost, it's their home.
So far, they've continued to host the groups that Matthews had long relationships with, including a writers' retreat and organizations from Yarmouth and a group of Indigenous youth.
They admit it is far from a money-making venture. They welcome guests and visitors by donation. Their jobs still cover the bills.
Former owner Helen Matthews used to take the weathered ledger with her during winters in the Catskills in New York. It holds the names of five decades of visitors. She mailed it to Smith and Stanley after they purchased the property. (Robert Short/CBC)
Smith is the artistic director of Soulo Theatre, which she founded to help people tell their own stories on stage. A playwright and performer, she is also the creator and host of Drag Heals, a documentary television show that follows people as they develop one-person shows.
Stanley is a theatre director, is completing her PhD and works for the National Arts Centre as the associate artistic director of English theatre.
This summer, they both alternate between Zoom calls and rehearsals and hours spent working on their long to-do list of property maintenance. They're repairing and restoring cabins, one at a time. People have helped by milling fallen trees and providing expertise in carpentry and plumbing. Still, there's always a problem that needs solving.
"I think so long as we do our best to keep the place accessible and living and cared for... then I feel that people want to help us do that," said Stanley.
Imagining plans for the future
Smith hopes to continue holding storytelling workshops, to dedicate one of the cabins to the kids who visit and she has been debating turning another into a café. They've bounced around ideas ranging from inviting new Canadians to hosting retreats for international thinkers.
From her workspace, which has one of the many views of the lake, Smith said she has been writing non-stop. She'd like to see what happens when other minds have the opportunity to get away from the intrusion of power lines, take a break from the internet and pause in the beauty of Birchdale.
"It may take a day or two, but it's different. It's very different. And your body changes. I think it's an incredible place for creativity," said Smith.
Sarah Garton Stanley, left, Tracey Erin Smith and Matzo, their Yorkie Chihuahua Shih Tzu mix, plan to live at Birchdale for at least six months a year and have a home in Yarmouth. (Robert Short/CBC)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Remote Nova Scotia lodge that hosted celebrities now available to right buyer
Owner hopes to find someone who loves property's history of visitors like Babe Ruth, Teddy Roosevelt
Carved out of the wilderness with the help of a team of oxen more than a century ago, it was home to a murderer and many monks.
It was also a secret getaway for movie stars, and even someone considered one of the greatest baseball players of all time.
Now the 78-year-old American who has been preserving the property and its stories is trying to figure out what's next.
The property is now listed for $980,000, but Helen Matthews says she's looking for a buyer who will respect the site's colourful history.
Matthews thought she'd found a retirement spot 18 years ago when she first saw images of the 23.4-hectare former hunting and fishing lodge.
"I fell in love with the isolation, the beauty, the water, old cabins, the logs. And I essentially bought it on the phone. I'd never seen it in person."
She had hoped Birchdale would never be boring — her "last great adventure"— and she wasn't wrong. But the former sociologist didn't expect to be so drawn into its story.
When she discovered the history, and the people who have brought it to life, everything changed.
"This a place in the woods, and a lake and a few buildings," she says. "That's not what it is. You feel it when you've stayed here for a few days. People tell me you feel different. You come out different because you must look into yourself and others or nature. You can't be hooked up to anything because there's no reception and there's no TV."
Birchdale first hosted guests more than a century ago.
A woodsman named Omar Roberts built the main lodge in 1911. He later sold it — possibly while in prison — after he was convicted of the grisly killing of a 19-year-old woman who had refused his advances.
In 1922, Roberts was the last man hanged in Yarmouth County.
Matthews doesn't like to dwell on that. But she's spent much of the past 18 years piecing together the property's past. She cherishes a worn handwritten ledger that lists five decades of guests, starting in 1926.
Greta Garbo signed it in 1954. Matthews keeps a sketch by another guest, Disney illustrator Milton Neil, in a binder alongside newspaper clippings.
Baseball great Babe Ruth and Teddy Roosevelt, the 26th U.S. president, are rumoured to have been among the outdoorsmen or "sports," mostly from New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania, who came to this corner of Nova Scotia in the spring and fall to hunt and fish.
Early on, they travelled by train or boat from New England. Later, there were direct flights to Yarmouth — now a town of 6,500 — and frequent buses from Halifax.
Alec Jeffery, who still lives in nearby Kemptville, N.S., worked as a fishing and hunting guide starting in 1954.
"This was a regular sportsman's paradise back in the '50s, the early '60s. The lakes and rivers were full of trout, the woods were full of deer. And no local people in here at all, never seen a local," he recalls. "All money people, they were real money people."
Jeffery and the other staff would be up at 5 a.m. to make sure fires were lit in cabins and the massive hearth in the main lodge. Often they wouldn't go to bed until nearly midnight, following a day in the woods.
At first, he earned $6 a day as a guide, $5 if he was working around the property.
"We were young, you didn't think anything of it.... If they'd had to pay minimum wage then, they would've been in trouble," says his wife, Olive, with a laugh.
Olive Jeffery moved to Birchdale when Alec was still "courting" her the summer before they married. That was 63 years ago.
She spent her days cleaning, cooking and serving the guests.
In the evening, there was an elaborate five-course homestyle meal: soup, homemade rolls, a steak or lobster dinner topped with strawberry shortcake. Olive baked the biscuits. On rare nights, there would be wine.
"The guides, they were always carrying on. I can still smell that bread baking," she recalls. "There's been a good many stories told here by this fireplace."
The couple connected with Matthews after she bought the property, and she loves quizzing the Jefferys about their memories — soaking up stories of the days guides travelled through Yarmouth County with the sports, building fires and cooking lunch where they ended up.
Matthews is quick to produce a photo of the Jefferys from her stack of papers, and another of a deer named Smokey that hung around the camp one summer. The Jefferys remember finding the doe curled up on the bed in a cabin.
It's visits like the afternoon with the Jefferys that Matthews treasures.
"This place has brought the people here, and those people are what have filled me with stories in their lives, or just moments in their lives," says Matthews.
For many years after the Jefferys left Birchdale, longtime guests would visit them in Kemptville and they'd exchange Christmas cards. Some even bought properties in Nova Scotia.
Though the Jefferys have always lived nearby, they and other locals didn't visit the lodge often as the years went on.
The days of sport hunting and fishing waned in the late 20th century, and a group of Carmelite monks eventually bought the property, renaming it Nova Nada in the early '70s.
The monks built a chapel and modernized some of the cabins scattered around the property.
During those years, similar to when it was a private lodge, the property was rarely open to the public. The religious order lived in the quiet of the wilderness until the roar of chainsaws from nearby Irving logging camps drove them away in 1998.
Matthews has chosen a different approach.
The only people she turns away are those on four-wheelers. Like the monks, she doesn't appreciate disruptions to the quiet of the woods.
Sandra Phinney, a writer who lives in Tusket, heard about the new owner's open invitation early on.
It had been a decade since she had been to the property she loved. She remembers Matthews encouraging her to bring people out — to paddle, write or get away.
"It was like just somebody opened the door and said, 'Come on through.' I was so happy. And so happy to meet her," she says.
They have since become close friends.
Phinney first came to Birchdale during the summers as a child with her family. Her father was a surgeon in Yarmouth.
One memory stands out as it shaped the course of Phinney's life. At age six, a guide offered to teach her to canoe. She was so small, she couldn't use a paddle, so the next day, he came back with one made for her.
"By the time we left Birchdale, I could paddle a canoe across the cove and back on my own, and I could make that canoe do what I wanted it to do," she recalls.
The following summer, she wagered her father that she could swim across Somes Lake in Yarmouth County. He followed alongside in a canoe. When she completed the swim, he had to give her that canoe.
"My Birchdale experience really has shaped me, in terms of my primary interest is paddling. I'm just crazy madly in love with paddling," Phinney says.
Each year, Phinney brings women to Birchdale for a paddling retreat. A few times, she's travelled the interconnected lakes all the way to the Atlantic Ocean, and she says she looks forward to every visit.
"I live in the wilderness, but when I go to Birchdale, I just get a little closer to myself," she says. "It is absolutely stunning."
In addition to the paddlers she looks forward to seeing each summer, Matthews has hosted family reunions, weddings, and yoga and writing groups.
Olive Jeffery spent a week visiting for a painting retreat. Many friends come year after year.
Frequently, strangers stop by and share their connection to her home. Often they return.
"I've been given a gift here by the people. People have been wonderful," Matthews says. "I've seen the kids grow up now in 18 years, and they give me emotion, good things in life. They fill me with meaning, substance."
Keeping Birchdale running has been a one-woman show for a long time. Matthews has no problem picking up a chainsaw and doing what needs to be done around the property.
She has been keeping the cabins standing, but they need plenty of work. Two heart attacks in two years were a "wake-up call."
When the storm Dorian hit, 50 trees fell — reinforcing her decision.
Matthews knows it's time to sell, but isn't entirely ready to let go, either. Not just any buyer with deep pockets will do.
She turned down one offer because it didn't fit her vision. She's holding out for someone ready to pour time and money into the cabins and lodge — but not just keep it as a vacation home.
Phinney says she and others in Yarmouth would buy the property if they could. She'd love to see a local person with guiding skills who knows the area help out the new owner.
Matthews says she's willing to wait years for someone who sees the potential and understands the value here has more to do with heart than money.
"This is a property that should belong to a Canadian and should belong to someone who cares about it, and its history and will keep it open," she says.
The other condition is that the next owner keep the property open to the public, so the people who love Birchdale can still return.
"They've created the history here. Those people, they should be able to come back and enjoy what they created. I didn't create it … it means something to people. And we need more meaningful things in our lives."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth McMillan is a journalist with CBC in Halifax. Over the past 13 years, she has reported from the edge of the Arctic Ocean to the Atlantic Coast and loves sharing people's stories. Please send tips and feedback to elizabeth.mcmillan@cbc.ca
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