We arrived at the cottage tonight, and all four of us piled into the canoe for some fishing. And we caught a nice pike, maybe 60cm long, or so. Not much of a fighter - in fact I suspected it was a walleye. We'd been heading in, but given our history of catching fish in the evening I suggested to The Boy that we go out again. With the pike in a bucket with its throat slit to bleed it out, we got the lines back in the water.
I decided to exchange the water in the bucket once I noticed that the blood was indeed draining well from the fish's slashed throat and neck. Naturally I wound up dumping the dang fish back into the lake! Trying to recover it with my hands, and then by hooking it with a treble-hook on a line, I eventually decided to strip down and retrieve it by hand.
Naturally, the water was damn cold (it turned out to be 14°C) and deeper than it looked. I failed to retrieve the thing.
But I did manage to kill my cell phone, which was in my pocket.
Things improved after that. In fact, we cleaned out the cottage to a great extent, accomplishing more than I'd expected. And in doing so, we had the metals recycled and the wood taken by someone looking for fire wood.
As for the fishing, it only improved. Ken and I each landed three good sized (55cm - 65cm) pike, and with the freshly learned habit of bleeding the things before bringing them off the lake, they turned out to be delicious! I also caught (and immediately returned) the largest smallmouth bass I've ever caught. We caught gobies, of course, and Ken caught some small perch. It was great.
A fine farewell to the cottage that was in the family for 94 years.