Ken Sear (Dec 3, 1933 — Oct 26, 2022)
It was a balmy afternoon in June 1967 more than a half century ago, that my father Ken Searl, discovered our little bay at the southern tip of Boyd Island on Kahshe Lake. I still remember the ear-to-ear grin on my Dad’s face when we first pulled up to the rickety 2x4s strung together excuse for a dock. He squeezed my Mom's hand and said, “this reminds me of the islands.” A handshake and a promise later, Caribbee Cove became a refuge for all our family and friends to commune with each other and with nature.
Our family, hailing from the Caribbean, were quick to put our mark on Muskoka by building our iconic tiki hut. Many a rum punch has been sipped under its shade. It was at Kahshe that Dad taught us many of life’s important lessons. We learned patience by sitting companionably on the diving board, for hours, rods in hand, waiting to catch that elusive muskie. We crouched silently for what seemed an eternity to espy the majesty of the great blue heron as it made its regal perch upon our dock — another lesson in patience rewarded by Kahshe’s beauty.
It was at Kahshe that Dad taught us about kindness and community and helping out. He helped to load and unload many a stranger’s boat or car, and they never remained strangers for long. In fact, many went on to be lifelong cottage friends.
It was at Kahshe that Dad taught us the value of a dollar. Two preteens, one five-gallon tank of gas and we managed to make it stretch a weekend to include fishing, water-skiing and just bombing around on the lake. If we were visiting a friend, we fished en route. If we wanted a popsicle from Rockhaven we water-skied our way over. That five-gallon tank of gas brought us so much joy. It was Kahshe that taught us how to listen when the only sounds were the flutter of the sails and the cries of the birds overhead.
It was at Kahshe that Dad taught us the value of hard work. Throughout each weekend, we all had to contribute two hours of our time for age-appropriate cottage chores, which ran the gamut from raking the beach to gathering kindling for firewood, from moving rocks to digging a garden bed, from sweeping a porch to painting boards. We were taught to take pride in a job well done.
It was at Kahshe that Dad taught us generosity of spirit. Our once two-bedroom cabin was always bursting at the seams with the laughter and love of family and friends. Ken Searl never met a stranger. Any were always welcome at Caribbee Cove Ken’s legacy lives on with the annual return of every hummingbird, every chipmunk that was trained to eat from his pocket, and the melancholy cry of every loon, whose sound he taught us to mimic. It was at Kahshe that Dad taught us to fish, to swim, to boat, to canoe, to sail, to waterski. Valuable life lessons, precious memories, precious moments. Dad’s legacy lives on in the smiles of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren as they frolic on the beach that he lovingly tended for over 50 years. He will be sorely missed.