Make mine sugar-free

My problem with Sugar Beach is not the three dozen pink umbrellas that cost $11,000 each or the $500,000 spent on decorative rocks. No, my problem is that you feel like an idiot sitting in one of those white Muskoka chairs with nothing much to do and even less to look at.

Mind you, I’m fair-skinned so sun tanning is taboo, but what kind of a beach has no access to nearby Lake Ontario for wading or swimming? Moreover, since there’s no place to walk, there’s no way to admire bikinis going by, either.

Depending how early you arrive, your view is most likely to be to the west, directly into the Redpath Sugar refinery and the pier where ocean-going ships deliver raw cane. As for the smell of production, let’s call it sickly sweet with a touch of sewage. And at sunset, your view is blocked so you can’t watch the sun slipping into the water while someone plays Amazing Grace on the kazoo.

Sugar Beach is nothing more than a 2-acre sandbox. Just another dud destination on Toronto’s wasteland waterfront.


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