The Post’s Joe O’Connor gets a first look at the most scrutinized waterway in Canada.
And then there it was: the majestic fake lake, or most of it, since an amicable though vigilant young security person denied the Post a full, unfettered frontal preview. “You guys aren’t supposed to be in here,” she said. “You aren’t even supposed to get close enough to smell the chlorine.”
It did smell like chlorine, and it was only about six inches deep. An assortment of canoes — green, yellow and red — bordered the lake. A collection of bored-looking workers were sitting around on the, ah, dock (?), in Muskoka deck chairs, listening to a man with a microphone lecture them about what to do if “something” happens.