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S

ome years ago I dropped in to see an elderly gentleman who wanted to sell his cottage. Following his instructions, I arrived at the end of a long road, and there, separated from the world beyond a thick hedge, was a rundown cottage nestled neatly on the near side of a treed lawn. The lawn followed a shimmering waterfront beach as together they disappeared into the woods and around the corner of the lake. It was an idyllic setting, even if the house did look a little rough.

The owner greeted me and showed me through the place with great pride. There was a lot to criticize in the house, but there were three bedrooms and a functional kitchen and bathroom. We discussed the value and the price, rarely the same figure, and then he showed me his survey plan.

The property was broken up into two waterfront lots and three lots on the other side of the road. Each one was significantly substandard, but all taken together, he had most of an acre of land. "I've got 5 lots," he told me. "That makes it worth a lot more money. I could sell these separately." I could imagine the major asset of the property, its privacy, being carved into five. I expressed my reservations and he told me he'd get back to me.

Some weeks later, having heard nothing despite a couple of calls, I decided to wander over and see how he was doing. When I arrived I found instead a young couple who happily told me they had rented the house for the summer. They were delighted with their find and extolled its privacy, explaining how many inconveniences they would put up with for just such an intimate place. We exchanged pleasantries and I left them my card. I concluded that the owner had decided not to sell and put it out of my mind.

The next weekend I received a call from the tenants. They asked me if I could drop in. When I arrived, to my shock and horror there was a gigantic silver and red trailer parked on the lawn beside the house. I thought the tenants had brought it there, but when they came out of the house, their faces told the whole story. The old gentleman was puttering around, hooking up the beast. "Is he allowed to do that?" the tenants asked me. "What can we do?" There was really nothing much to be done. I could imagine three other trailers across the road by summer's end.

A country property is best conceived as an affair of the heart. Its highest value will result from the pleasure you take in using it, not in some scheme to exploit it. The Laurentians is a recreational playground of great beauty that can offer something for a wide variety of tastes. It is a place where thousands of families come to relax and play together, winter and summer. It has lakes, ski-hills, trails, gardens, restaurants and much more. Shifting the paradigm to the perspective of the developer, though, it is a graveyard of failed projects. Surveyor's offices and municipal registries are full of plans and subdivisions that should never have been done. Curiously, many people have sold their country cottages and done very well. They have discovered that highest and best use on the market is the same one they enjoyed. They have simply sold that which gave them pleasure.

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