Francesca Bouaoun woke up on Oct. 3, and looked out the window of her 28th-floor condo, which towers over Toronto’s waterfront with views of Lake Ontario.
The trees below were gone.
The headlines followed: the night before, under cover of darkness, contractors for the province of Ontario had ripped down more than 800 mature trees from West Island, one of two small artificial islands off the coast of Lake Ontario in Toronto’s downtown district that make up Ontario Place.
Ms. Bouaoun, a birder, had built a wellness routine and found community among the trees, which she said had helped her mentally survive the pandemic.
The removal of the trees last October was part of the province’s preparation of the site for a European company that had won a bid to build and operate a major water park and spa on the island. Details of that deal are the subject of a Times investigation.
For residents who had protested the commercial use of the island, the removal of the trees felt like a step closer to the inevitable.
The commercialization of prime public land has emerged as a point of contention in many major cities, where parks are dwindling and governments seek new revenue by leasing lands for commercial use.
Those who support redeveloping Ontario Place as a commercial project, portray opponents as selfish NIMBY-ists who only care about their own access to a park and its impact on the value of their nearby properties.
Those who favor of preserving and improving Ontario Place as a public space say the move to commercialize it is a backward expression of destructive capitalism.
“It really is part of a multigenerational argument about the public-ness of the Toronto waterfront of Lake Ontario, and a struggle that has been going on in different versions on many sites,” said Ken Greenberg, a renowned urban designer and advocate for a public and accessible Toronto waterfront.
“The bit they have between their teeth is about privatization and creating attractions and putting things behind a paywall,” he added, referring to the Ontario government under its premier, Doug Ford.
Mr. Ford and his allies say that a prime waterfront piece of public land like Ontario Place should be part park, part commercial, to generate revenues for the province and ensure the land is utilized, while also financing its upkeep.
Ontario Place opened in 1971 as a futuristic and exciting space: its striking structure hovered on stilts, emerging from the water between the two islands. A dome completed the back-to-the-future landscape.
“It is a stimulating and permanent symbol of the work and achievement of the people of Ontario,” then-premier Bill Davis said at its opening in May 1971.
And for a while it felt that way: it buzzed with visitors. There were playgrounds and water activities, cafes and restaurants. But, commercially, Ontario Place was not an enduring success and its infrastructure began to decay.
Even so, it remained a destination for locals as condos took over the waterfront. People went running there, walked, birded or had picnics. There were art installations, performances, even the occasional wedding.
And in more recent years, while the distinctive structures of Ontario Place were clearly in decline, its significance to locals was not.
During the pandemic, Ontario Place became a sanctuary amid one of the world’s harshest lockdowns. Residents from neighborhoods miles away credit the West Island’s footpaths, beaches and trees for saving their mental health during their shelter-at-home routines.
Ms. Bouaoun met her neighbors for the first time during the pandemic at Ontario Place. “I couldn’t have gotten through the pandemic without this space,” she said.
Originally from Scotland, she had grown up by the sea and always wanted to live by the water. She moved to Toronto in 2015, and immediately fell in love with Ontario Place, even though she acknowledges it was “in a state and needed care.”
“People were allowed to explore on their own, and I feel like those spaces are quite rare,” she said, adding that she’s dreading the bird migration season because birds will return to West Island but will find the trees, their homes, gone.
The fight to preserve Ontario Place has now turned into a farewell — captured in a recently released documentary. The site will soon be handed over to Therme, the company that won the bid to develop it, which is contractually obligated to start building by next spring.
The company adjusted its plans, in response to criticism, lowering the height of the planned spa structure and adding more public spaces around it. It has now set its sights on several more locations, including along the Anacostia River in Washington D.C., and by the Trinity River in Dallas, Texas.
Matina Stevis-Gridneff is the Canada bureau chief for The Times, leading coverage of the country.
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