In 2019 I went on an 11 day fishing trip with my dad. A million years ago (maybe just 25) my dad said him and my uncle went to Flindt Landing for the first time and said one day when they had kids, they'd come back. Fast forward and I went with my dad, two uncles, and 9 boy cousins. I've usually always been the only girl because I'm the only one that enjoys fishing.
The place we went to was called Flindt Landing in Ontario Canada. Most people don't know about it, and the only reason my dad found the place was because an old lady from the little lake town he grew up in had told him that in the summer seasons she runs a fishing camp. Before she ran it, her father did and so on. The camp can only be reached my train (it only stops once a week), or by seaplane. Flindt Landing is so remote that there's no WiFi, cable, anything. If you have to call for help you have to call 911 through the radio. Everything in the cabins is ran on propane. The camp sits on one little island in the middle of a lake full of other little islands.
For 11 days I was up before the Sun, ready to pull the anchor for my dad each day, and ate fish every way you can make it. I love how inventive the woman is who runs the camp. You pretty much have to be when your resources are so limited. The picture below is of my little cousin (the youngest of all of us) and he caught the largest fish of the season. The woman who runs the camp showed us that herself and her father had been keeping track of big fish as far back as the 50's! So for the summer of 2019 my 7 year old cousin caught the largest fish.We measured him on the boat, took a picture for proof, and tossed him back. Before the trip, we had all found out it takes those fish 17 years to get that big! Decided that maybe in a few more years we'd catch him again. I wouldn't go here every year, but every few years would be nice. Living so simply is good for the soul.