You can't judge a house by its coverings.

In August 2005, Colombian Enrique Londoño-Gutiérrez and his Canadian wife Myrna Hagarty, scoured the countryside for the perfect summer residence. They wanted a water view, but they also wanted a property that was very old.

Señor Londoño comes from an old, Colombian family and frequently spends time at a family hacienda built in the 1400s. His wife shares his passion for the past, and both felt that it was in the Maritimes of Canada that they stood the best chance of finding something near the sea with the character that only time can create.

After spending two weeks criss-crossing here and there, we either found the house but the location was wrong, or vice versa-so we decided that we would buy some acreage near the town of New Glasgow, NS. A local agency directed us to a location outside the town and, as luck would have it, we became lost and arrived at a picturesque peninsula called Pictou Landing. I spotted an interesting dwelling, perched rather majestically on a hill. We stood on the brakes when we spotted the "for sale" sign. A cellphone call later the smiling, local agent we had been working with was trying to dissuade us by remarking that the place was built in the late 1700s and probably not safe to even walk inside.

But it was exactly what we had been looking for. The house is said to have been built around 1775 by a Capt. William MacPherson, who was given a parcel of land in return for his naval duties. His descendants of the original owner still reside in Pictou Landing.  Anyone who has ever owned a very old house can agree that from the moment of first entry we feel something special. Who knows, but it often feels as if the house chooses the owner and not the other way around.  But the agent actually declined to go beyond the front room, declaring that she thought it was going to collapse at any time. No strangers to historic property, after seeing the thickness of the walls and the straight roof, we were sold. As we inched our way through ground floor rooms and climbed the steep old stairs to the second floor, we could see past the green shag carpet, the 60s kitchen and the wood panelling. What we saw instead was a very sturdy structure that clearly had outlived other homes of the same vintage, had a sunny, open layout, and contained all those interesting nooks and crannies that historic house lovers treasure. Within a day the deal was made.

Now for the hard part
Failing to find reliable local labour, it became crystal clear that aside from roofing, well drilling and those heavier tasks that were clearly beyond us, the majority of the labour would have to come from the team of Hagarty-Londoño. Fortunately, the señor has a strong background in electrical, plumbing and carpentry and the señora is a professional home economist, interested in design, and willing to take up a brush and can of paint.

By the end of the first month the house looked no better on the outside and considerably worse on the inside. It was a labour of love-but there is little romance involved in trying to pry old, dirty carpet off floors or extracting aged plumbing from its dank, moldy home.

But as we slowly peeled away layers of paper from bedroom walls and realize that each layer represents an era, we tried to imagine the lives of the people who once inhabited those rooms. A highlight in the restoration came when we discovered large, squared stones that made up the three massive fireplaces on the main floor, all hidden behind walls.

The source of the fireplace stone is said to be Scotland, where it was loaded as ballast for the voyage across the Atlantic. The stones extend from the basement to the second floor and open on to the kitchen, dining room and bedroom. We have been in the house through several severe storms and we have yet to hear any groans or creaks. This house is going nowhere.

For the last five years we have appeared in late spring to begin two months of work. The goal has always been authenticity first, and comfort second. I guess we would be labelled purists, preferring to stick with the original rather than trying to replace it with a replica (although that is often the easiest and most economical direction to take). Case in point is the floors of the house. After removing the layers of 235 years, the original wood was exposed. As expected, it was wide-planked pine, showing signs of wear. It would have been much easier to lay down new or distressed wood rather than attempt the time-consuming task of nail pulling, sanding and refinishing-but it wouldn't have been the same. When we first entered the house we could sense the past: now we are actually walking on it.

Another example of the dedication to preserve was the determination to keep the original staircase. Although steep and not one you would bound up too quickly, it is also very solid and takes up little space. That was probably the main criterion the builder had in mind. Other features, such as doors and windows, had to be replaced but the staircase would stay.

Decorating was another adventure, since here, too, we wanted to remain loyal to the period. Trips to Quebec and forages through antique, second-hand and auction sales provided us with a variety of colourful and interesting items. The window coverings are all made from hand-loomed Quebec wool blankets. One Sunday, we went to a local flea market and purchased an antique closet from a friendly fellow named Charlie, from Saltsprings. He delivered the piece with his old pick-up full of other treasures. When he left, the truck was pretty much empty and we owned an antique spinning wheel, a woodstove, pressback chairs and more. One-stop shopping and we didn't even have to drive out the lane.

Everyone was happy.

Like many old houses, the builder didn't put much value in a water view and so the house really faces the backyard, not the water. To remedy this, a large deck has been built on what was once the back, and double doors opening on to the deck have replaced a small window. Now we get a good view of the Pictou harbour by day, a glorious sunset on the Northumberland Strait in the early evening, and the lights on the water after dark. The natural beauty of the area comes at us from all sides.

We still tell friends about the first October when we were just beginning the work, and needed to remove a portion of the livingroom floor. The exposed hole was covered loosely with a tarp. One night I woke up frantic when a large animal, sleeping just below the plastic tarp, let out a screech. We never did actually see it, but we think it must be the same critter that made off with two pairs of orthopaedic shoes left out on the step overnight. Neighbours told us later that a fox was discovered with more than 100 shoes in its den. (Why couldn't it have taken the cheap sneakers?)

Over the years, this little house has stood firm and solid. We have no doubt it will provide summer memories for another 200 years.