Ice Fishing 101

Single digit temperatures, clear skies, gale force winds...

That was the weather forecast for the day of our ice fishing workshop. Would they cancel? Should we cancel? But if you cancel outdoor activities because of bad weather here, you might never get to see the outdoors except from your living room window. So we soldiered on down to the lake and I pulled up next to Nikole's truck knowing that the first words out of her mouth would be blame, blame, blame for the high winds and low temperatures. She's been watching the forecast all week and leveling sarcasm at me because I was the one who suggested the class.

Open car door.

Nikole: "REAL NICE day you picked here, Molly!"

We could see the instructors setting up out in the middle of the lake but weren't sure if we were supposed to park our cars out there on the ice or in the parking lot. Angie offered to walk her dog out there and ask. Right after she left, a Fish and Game employee pulled up in a pickup and was telling us we could drive out if we had a pickup but be careful not to get stuck in any snowdrifts and --

"Oh my god! Is she WALKING out there?" the fish and game girl asked imploringly, pointing at Angie as she leaned into the wind, about halfway to the instructor's trucks, her dog dancing around her merrily.

The fish and game girl was in awe of Angie's mental and physical fortitude in the eye of the high winds and the biting snow being whipped up off the lake.

"That's a die-hard!" Fish and Game gal cried out, waving a fist in the air with approval.

We all huddled inside the instructor's rv, sipping coffee and getting cool free stuff like rods and starter tackle boxes, learning some basic knots, trying to avoid melting our outer layer of clothing on the portable heater, and hearing about all the fish that were stocked by the thousands in the lake beneath us. Arctic char, rainbow trout, landlocked king salmon, some too big to fit through the eight inch holes in the ice we would be augering ourselves.

My mouth watered at the thought of our full ice chests. Did I have enough freezer space at home to hold my haul? We headed out into the winter weather and got to fishing and...

Nothing!

Not a bite. But this woman was funnny:

She kept peering down into her hole, orange ice ladle in hand. If you blocked the sunlight you could see the fish swimming around down there in the drink. Notice her in the background of this photo too:

We fished for two hours with nary a nibble then went back inside for some bison chili and moose and lentil stew. Oh and a few shots of adult beverages. God bless you, Sailor Jerry. God bless you and your rum.

A wildlife officer stopped checking fishing licenses long enough to have some chili with us and I listened in horror as one of the women told him a joke involving a cop, a donut, and a monkey. Someone take the Sailor Jerry's away from her. She's had enough.

Then we figured out our tackle might be too large so we all switched to smaller hooks and lures and that's when people really started reeling them in. Well, everyone except me. After two hours out in that blustery cold I'd had enough and the fish that were being caught were just too small to excite my interest. I needed to see at least one HUGE fish be caught before I could muster up the strength to pick up my pole again and try to melt the ice off the line, so thick it looked like icy little jewels.

We parked all the cars to block out at least a little of the wind and there was one ice fishing tent people were taking turns in, shown in the background of this photo:

Notice that that woman is still face-down in her ice-hole, like her face is frozen to the ice. She might have had a few fish in that ice chest next to her if she'd done a little more fishing and a little less peering.

I never actually got a turn inside the tent. Whenever I went over to ask to get inside, it was always full of women who were very very reluctant to leave. They'd unzip a small corner of the door, peer out, and assure me they were almost done. Then I'd lose interest while waiting for them to emerge. Bitches.

Angie got inside at one point though and she came out telling tales about how wonderfully warm it was inside. Everyone had their gloves off and their coats unzipped. No wonder no one wanted to come out. If I'd gotten inside I would have had to have been dragged out by my hair.

My friend and family managed to catch quite a few fish. The fruits of their labors:

A frosty, frosty catch of little king salmon.  The fish would freeze solid almost as soon as they were hauled out of the water. My mom was all for feeding them to the dogs as a snack but fortunately, Angie insisted that they'd be excellent pan-fried in a little breading so we headed on back to my house to fry up some fish.

They were really, really good.

Comments

[Constance]

I decided to start off my work day with a long overdue visit to your blog, and oh! hahhaha! What a funny tale you've spun! Perfect narrative arc. The woman with her face glued to the ice is hilarious.

[whittakerwoman]

I need to put this on my list of things to do. I love it! H

[whittakerwoman]

Where was this? H

[Laurie Constantino]

Very well-written post; I was right there with you. It brought back some very good memories.

[John]

the salmon looks delicious!