Safety and liability require proper management. That fence was the last straw for a lot of folks.
Margaret had just blocked lake access for three elderly residents whose daily walks were literally doctor's orders for their heart conditions.
But while she was busy playing neighborhood dictator, I was getting educated about something called riparian rights.
Back at the courthouse, Joyce Miller pulled out maps and legal books like she was conducting a master class in property law.
The musty smell of old records mixed with her determination to help. Theo, she said, adjusting those thick glasses, riparian rights are trickier than a three-card monte game.
When you own land adjacent to water, you often get usage rights, too. Sometimes way more than people realize.
Riparian rights mean owning land next to water often includes water usage rights. Look this up if you live near lakes or rivers because most property owners have no clue what they actually own.
Joyce also found something that made her eyebrows climb toward her hairline. A reference to lake bottom mineral rights in my grandfather's 1958 deed.
Son, this language is unusual. Might want to dig deeper into what exactly your grandfather bought from that mining company.
While I was learning legal history, Margaret escalated to full-blown harassment. She filed noise complaints about my boat motor, claiming it disturbed the peace at dawn.
She called the county health department alleging my septic system threatened lake quality, forcing me to take time off work for inspections that found absolutely nothing wrong.
Then she tried to get my dock declared unpermitted, which was rich considering it predated her birth certificate.
But here's where Margaret made her first real mistake. She got greedy and sloppy.
I hired surveyor Jake Patterson to map my exact boundaries. 300 bucks well spent.
Jake spent half the morning taking measurements and the other half scratching his head like he'd found buried treasure.
Theo, he said, pointing at his equipment, your lot extends 30 ft further into the lake than anyone expected.
Plus, I've seen references to old mining claims from the 1940s around here. Might be worth checking what rights came with those original purchases.
That evening, I found an envelope in my mailbox, expensive paper, fountain pen ink that smelled like old money, handwriting that suggested private school education.
The note read, Check the old Thompson Mining Company records at state archives. Someone in Margaret's own coalition was having second thoughts.
Meanwhile, Margaret announced her lake beautification project funded by HOA fees, planning to remove unsafe docks belonging to older residents.
She scheduled contractor consultations without permission and referred to the lake as our community asset in her newsletter.
Her exact quote, printed in bold, Some people just don't understand that progress requires sacrifice.
But as I studied Jake's survey report that night, listening to loons call across the dark water, one detail jumped out like a lighthouse beacon.
Subsurface mineral rights conveyed in perpetuity. Time for a road trip to the state capital because Grandpa Blackstone hadn't just left me a fishing spot, he'd left me the keys to Margaret's worst nightmare.