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A glimpse at the depths below

The drive didn't take long, no more than 10 minutes. The landscape was a vast plain of frozen white. Suddenly, the car came to a halt.
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Waldsea Lake at sunrise in 1999, before the flooding.


The drive didn't take long, no more than 10 minutes. The landscape was a vast plain of frozen white. Suddenly, the car came to a halt. Where the road should have continued was an immense expanse of frozen water, swallowing up the road and the fields to either side.


"Those bushes just ahead? Those are actually the tops of thirty-foot trees," says Brad Lefebvre. "When we came here last summer, we were canoeing over where the cabins and trails used to be."


Up until three years ago, Waldsea Lake was the go-to place for family recreation for more than 90 years. Located just 100 kilometers east of Saskatoon, it was the destination spot for cabin owners, boaters, swimmers, hikers, and everyone else.


It was high in saline concentration, but it still managed to maintain its renowned pristine white beaches and crystal clear water for the entirety of that nine-decade period. According to a news article from 1916 in the Humboldt Journal, the water even had a slightly "sweet taste."


"It wasn't just a salty taste. There was something else to it," said Brad. "I can't quite describe it. I think it was because of all the minerals."


Brad was one of many local residents who owned a cabin up at the lake. With his wife and two sons, they would spend entire summers up there between 1998 and 2010. He holds an entire album of photographed memories. Everything from boating on the lake to cooking hot dogs over the fire is captured in those images.


"I remember getting up early in the morning, enjoying the beautiful sun and the beautiful lake and the birds were chirping away," he said. "We'd go out onto our deck and eat breakfast in the outdoors."


Like Brad, there are many others who have bittersweet memories at the lake. There was Christine Skulski, who spent just over a decade with her family at their cabin during the summers and winters. Then there was Corrie Hetzel and her mother, Geraldine Schlosser, who celebrated many occasions with their family at the cabin.


"From our family perspective, the cabin was our place for having celebrations and getting together," said Corrie. "The first celebration out there was when my sister got married. We had the gift opening there and that just became our tradition."


The lake was a destination spot for families from all across the province and beyond. Its clear waters were a result of its saline and mineral properties. In scientific terms, it was a meromictic lake whose properties produced an environment unfit for many types of flora and fauna. As a result, there wasn't much algae and only small species of fish. Nonetheless, it was perfect for vacationers in every other way.


"We just enjoyed the beach-swimming, tubing, boating, building sandcastles with the neighbours," said Christine. "The sunsets were the most beautiful thing in the morning to get up to. I used to get up at 6 a.m. and go watch the sunrise while having a coffee."


While Christine and her family only had their cabin for little more than 10 years, other families such as Geraldine's owned a cabin since the seventies.


"Back when I was a teenager, we used the cabin a lot more as evening entertainment," said Corrie. "Times have changed so much, just as a whole."


When the lake first became a destination spot in the early 1900s, there were only a few cabins. By 2010, however, there were about 76 of them, with the majority being built in the late 1990s and early 2000s.


There was also no electricity at first, but according to an article in The Best of Humboldt, Centennial Edition: "the Humboldt Rural Telephone Co. was formed in December 1916 and a line connected Humboldt and Waldsea Lake."


According to the same article, people at this time could also get their milk and eggs delivered by the Kalthoff and Reinhart families. Max Bauer delivered groceries. Septic tanks replaced outhouses after the 1980s.


"By the end of the 1930s, the water level was very low, the lake was invaded by red bugs and suckers, the economy was in crisis, the war brought gas rationing, so it was difficult to use the car to go to the lake," said the article. "Due to the shortage of materials during the war years, the cabins were hauled away and renovated for town dwellings or for grain storage and chicken coops."


Some of the earliest cabin owners, such as Pat and Arnie Brockman, can remember these times. Arnie Brockman was on the board that managed the lake with the RM of Humboldt at the time.


"The best part was watching the lake develop. It was dead before when I was a kid and it was a slew where you would come out covered in white salt," said Arnie. "As the water level rose, the salinity decreased and you could come out of the water clear."


Arnie Brockman witnessed the lake's development from before the 1950s. He was there when the cabins were moved away during wartime and after when visitors started to come back.


"It really started up in the 1960s. We call it the second phase," he said. "From then on, it just kept increasing in activities and usage of the lakeshore. The managers were instrumental in making the lake an enjoyable and active place. The Neubauers were really quite exceptional."


The Neubauers Arnie was referring to were Dorothy Neubauer and her husband, Leonard Neubauer. They took over as caretakers of the lake in the seventies, which was previously managed by Johnny Reinhart. Dorothy managed the concession stand while Leonard managed everything else.


"We ran the place in the summers and then we ran the skating rink during the winters," said Dorothy. "During the summer, we were there all the time."


Dorothy is not without her own memories. With her husband and only daughter, Shelly Finney, Dorothy recounts a time when all of the kids used to come to the lake to go swimming and take swimming lessons.


"There were two buses that used to drop off kids twice a day for swimming lessons," said Dorothy. "Some would come and then just stay there all day swimming."


Dorothy and her husband managed Waldsea Lake for 20 years. They were the ones who cut the grass and cleared trees for the cabin lots. They saw the place grow from a quiet beautiful lake to a place filled with children and families.


"It didn't take long for them to come," said Dorothy. "When people started coming, one would tell another and then they'd say it's really beautiful. At one time, they took pictures of Waldsea Lake and there were 800 people out there."


According to The Best of Humboldt article, the lake became the sixth regional park established by the province at a capital cost of $20,000. It was "shared on a 60-40 basis between provincial government, Town of Humboldt and the RM of Humboldt with the assistance from the Board of Trade, the Canadian Legion, Knights of Columbus, and the Lions Club."While local residents have fond memories of that lake, there remains too the sharp tang of bitterness from the lake's demise in 2010.


With a buildup of rain and snow and no natural drainage, the water levels of adjacent Deadmoose Lake and Waldsea Lake began to rise. The farmers' fields were in danger and some cabins had already begun to see flood damage.


At first, the government attempted to save Waldsea Lake by building a large burm to halt the encroaching shoreline. It didn't work.


By 2010, a meeting had been called to tell residents the sad news: Deadmoose Lake was going to be opened up so that it could drain into Waldsea Lake. Cabin owners had to pack up and move out in less than two months.


In the three years that followed, the beauty of Waldsea Lake was flooded and drowned in thirty feet of water. Nothing more can be seen out there except the tops of some tall trees and the remnants of the road that brought visitors in.


For many, however, the photos and memories are cherished as a part of their history. Like a lot Humboldt residents, Brad remembers the lake as the place he and his family went to spend time together.


As he stands at the end of the road that sinks into a frozen lake, he recounts a time when days were spent sitting on a deck and watching the sunrise.


"It was very happy and joyful out there. People out there were different than when they were in town. They were very relaxed, more carefree," said Brad. "It was like you were a thousand miles away from town, when you're really just ten minutes away."


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