"I'd wear a coat"
The closer we get to early trout season, the further away it seems to be. Having had a nearly snowless winter, with temperatures averaging in the mid 30s for much of the season, we suddenly get hit with a good old fashioned blizzard, and yesterday the mercury dipped into the sub-zero range. Not exactly what I'd call prime fishing weather. But there are others who would disagree. As in the case with this article by Kevin Kling.
Every year the call goes out: the ice is safe. Open water has turned into prime real estate, and villages of tiny shacks pop up overnight. Thus ice-fishing season opens in Minnesota, home of the nation’s icebox, where carpaccio is still made with carp and especially frigid winters are referred to by their year, like fine wine. Although months of subzero temperatures test the heartiest souls, some people actually live in this state on purpose. As I overheard one Northern gentleman say, “When you freeze paradise, it’s bound to last a little longer."
Mille Lacs Lake is one of the most popular spots for ice fishing in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. It covers more than 200 square miles in the middle of Minnesota and is known for its walleye, arguably the best-tasting fish you can pull from fresh water. Once the ice sets—late November or early December, depending—local resort owners start renting out ice-fishing houses and hauling them out onto the lake, where bars, churches and the random bowling alley follow. By January, there will be around 5,000 angling abodes on the ice, which qualifies as a small city in Minnesota. (And at Gull Lake, more than 9,000 folks competed in last year’s annual Brainerd Jaycees Ice Fishing Extravaganza, but that’s a one-day affair involving less housing.)
To most people below the 48th parallel, ice fishing must seem like pounding your head against the wall, in that it’s not doing it in the first place that makes the most sense. While it’s true that it’s not for everyone, it sure beats staying cooped up inside your house for six months. Here are some basics to get you started:
First, find a spot on the lake where the ice is thick enough to support your car without its dropping through. If you’re unsure, watch someone else drive out first. Next, auger a fishing hole in the ice. An ice auger is like a posthole digger with a large screwlike cutting blade rotated by hand or motor. In the fun department, the powered ice auger sits just behind the chain saw and way ahead of the power leaf blower.
Most people opt for an ice-fishing house, a 10- by 16-foot shack with a propane stove and holes in the floor. The holes are usually covered by hinged plywood that can be flipped up for fishing. Some fishing houses are rudimentary, but others come with stereos, TVs, kitchens, bunk beds, couches, or even hot tubs and saunas parked next door. Ice anglers tend to have a lot invested in their fish houses. The shacks are usually painted to reflect the owner’s personality, hobby, favorite sports franchise or cause. On the lake, brilliant colors are an advantage. An all-white house probably wouldn’t be found until spring.
You’ll need an ice-fishing pole with a reel, monofilament line and bobber. An ice-fishing pole looks pretty much like any other fishing pole but shorter, since casting isn’t an option. You’ll need a skimmer, or slotted ladle, for clearing out the ice that will form on the hole, and a five-gallon plastic bucket to haul your gear and your catch, or “tonnage.” For bait, use a minnow or wax worm on a hook with a brightly colored weight. The best fishing is usually just off the bottom of the lake, which is only about 40 feet deep at most. A slight tug, or “jigging,” on the line every few seconds draws attention to the bait.
There are other ways to increase your luck, such as using feeding-time charts and depth finders and topographic maps of the lake bottom that show ridges and shoals. Every fisher man or woman has a secret weapon, a lure that will make a fish react against its better judgment, whether by seduction, rage or appetite. Some folks spray their lures with fish oil to take away the human scent. (A word of caution: keep the fish oil away from the beer.)
The fun of ice fishing is that you never know what you might catch: perch, trout, northern pike, muskie, crappie—even the coveted walleye. Or you can drop a line down deep and try to snag something prehistoric with a lantern on its head. You just don’t know what’s going to come out of that hole. Maybe a trophy fish—something to take to the taxidermist, maybe a reason to fix up the basement, put a piece of shag carpet over the oil stain, make wise investments with confidence gained and spend more time with the family. A whole world of new possibilities opens. I heard about one guy who felt a tug on his line and pulled up sharply to set the hook. There was a tremendous fight until finally up through the hole came a license plate. He threw the plate in the corner and was rebaiting his line when he had a fearsome epiphany. He ran outside to see the hole in the ice where his truck had been. (That one may be apocryphal.)
We used to call ice fishing “sitting around practicing for when we got old,” but now we just call it “sitting around.” Many fisherpeople use a “tip-up,” a device that sends up a flag when a fish bites. This frees one to multitask—that is, fish and play cards, fish and watch TV, fish and learn Spanish, and so on. Other warning systems include buzzers, bells, whistles, car alarms and voice-activated computers (“I believe you have a fish, Dave”). I knew a high-school band teacher who rigged cymbals to crash when a fish took the bait.
Northern Minnesota is known for its stoic Nordic types, but to ice fish I think you also have to have a sense of humor. The people, like the weather, seem cold at first, but then you get used to them. Just remember: when a guy sitting next to you doesn’t talk to you for hours, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. If he then asks, “Cold enough for you?” take it as a sign of affection. Answer with, “I’d wear a coat,” and you’ll be fine.
Every year the call goes out: the ice is safe. Open water has turned into prime real estate, and villages of tiny shacks pop up overnight. Thus ice-fishing season opens in Minnesota, home of the nation’s icebox, where carpaccio is still made with carp and especially frigid winters are referred to by their year, like fine wine. Although months of subzero temperatures test the heartiest souls, some people actually live in this state on purpose. As I overheard one Northern gentleman say, “When you freeze paradise, it’s bound to last a little longer."
Mille Lacs Lake is one of the most popular spots for ice fishing in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. It covers more than 200 square miles in the middle of Minnesota and is known for its walleye, arguably the best-tasting fish you can pull from fresh water. Once the ice sets—late November or early December, depending—local resort owners start renting out ice-fishing houses and hauling them out onto the lake, where bars, churches and the random bowling alley follow. By January, there will be around 5,000 angling abodes on the ice, which qualifies as a small city in Minnesota. (And at Gull Lake, more than 9,000 folks competed in last year’s annual Brainerd Jaycees Ice Fishing Extravaganza, but that’s a one-day affair involving less housing.)
To most people below the 48th parallel, ice fishing must seem like pounding your head against the wall, in that it’s not doing it in the first place that makes the most sense. While it’s true that it’s not for everyone, it sure beats staying cooped up inside your house for six months. Here are some basics to get you started:
First, find a spot on the lake where the ice is thick enough to support your car without its dropping through. If you’re unsure, watch someone else drive out first. Next, auger a fishing hole in the ice. An ice auger is like a posthole digger with a large screwlike cutting blade rotated by hand or motor. In the fun department, the powered ice auger sits just behind the chain saw and way ahead of the power leaf blower.
Most people opt for an ice-fishing house, a 10- by 16-foot shack with a propane stove and holes in the floor. The holes are usually covered by hinged plywood that can be flipped up for fishing. Some fishing houses are rudimentary, but others come with stereos, TVs, kitchens, bunk beds, couches, or even hot tubs and saunas parked next door. Ice anglers tend to have a lot invested in their fish houses. The shacks are usually painted to reflect the owner’s personality, hobby, favorite sports franchise or cause. On the lake, brilliant colors are an advantage. An all-white house probably wouldn’t be found until spring.
You’ll need an ice-fishing pole with a reel, monofilament line and bobber. An ice-fishing pole looks pretty much like any other fishing pole but shorter, since casting isn’t an option. You’ll need a skimmer, or slotted ladle, for clearing out the ice that will form on the hole, and a five-gallon plastic bucket to haul your gear and your catch, or “tonnage.” For bait, use a minnow or wax worm on a hook with a brightly colored weight. The best fishing is usually just off the bottom of the lake, which is only about 40 feet deep at most. A slight tug, or “jigging,” on the line every few seconds draws attention to the bait.
There are other ways to increase your luck, such as using feeding-time charts and depth finders and topographic maps of the lake bottom that show ridges and shoals. Every fisher man or woman has a secret weapon, a lure that will make a fish react against its better judgment, whether by seduction, rage or appetite. Some folks spray their lures with fish oil to take away the human scent. (A word of caution: keep the fish oil away from the beer.)
The fun of ice fishing is that you never know what you might catch: perch, trout, northern pike, muskie, crappie—even the coveted walleye. Or you can drop a line down deep and try to snag something prehistoric with a lantern on its head. You just don’t know what’s going to come out of that hole. Maybe a trophy fish—something to take to the taxidermist, maybe a reason to fix up the basement, put a piece of shag carpet over the oil stain, make wise investments with confidence gained and spend more time with the family. A whole world of new possibilities opens. I heard about one guy who felt a tug on his line and pulled up sharply to set the hook. There was a tremendous fight until finally up through the hole came a license plate. He threw the plate in the corner and was rebaiting his line when he had a fearsome epiphany. He ran outside to see the hole in the ice where his truck had been. (That one may be apocryphal.)
We used to call ice fishing “sitting around practicing for when we got old,” but now we just call it “sitting around.” Many fisherpeople use a “tip-up,” a device that sends up a flag when a fish bites. This frees one to multitask—that is, fish and play cards, fish and watch TV, fish and learn Spanish, and so on. Other warning systems include buzzers, bells, whistles, car alarms and voice-activated computers (“I believe you have a fish, Dave”). I knew a high-school band teacher who rigged cymbals to crash when a fish took the bait.
Northern Minnesota is known for its stoic Nordic types, but to ice fish I think you also have to have a sense of humor. The people, like the weather, seem cold at first, but then you get used to them. Just remember: when a guy sitting next to you doesn’t talk to you for hours, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. If he then asks, “Cold enough for you?” take it as a sign of affection. Answer with, “I’d wear a coat,” and you’ll be fine.
posted by JoeFriday at 3:12 PM
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