Sitting on a frozen lake, staring at a hole in the ice is
not my idea of fishing. Give me a warm summer day, a nice stable boat, tall
glass of lemonade and the Tigers game on the radio – now that’s my idea of
fishing. Although I will admit I haven’t caught many fish.
But since I have a son who is an avid fisherman and
I was glad he still wanted his mom to be involved in things he liked to do, I tried to figure out what could possibly appeal to him about ice fishing.
So, out we went, one very early and cold February morning, I could hardly move with all the
layers of clothes I had on and wondered if I would cut off the circulation in
my legs if I sat too long!We started at the local bait shop, where the dedicated gather before sunrise, while the rest of the world is still snuggled under their warm quilts. According to my son, this was an important part of the fishing experience. There’s camaraderie among fishermen, they offer updates on the best spots, give tips and secrets and everyone shares in the success of a good catch.
As the sun began to rise, we made our way across frozen
Crystal Lake, armed with a sled full of fishing gear, a small propane heater,
extra clothes, snacks and two thermos’s of hot chocolate, all packed in two
5-gallon buckets that doubled as chairs. We took turns pulling the sled across
the ice, past the shoreline and onto the smooth surface of the lake. We set up
about ¼ mile out, near some other fishing shanties, which was an indicator this
might be a good spot.
Being that my son was a well-seasoned fisherman, he knew
just what to do and I followed his directions. He began cutting a hole in the
ice with a hand-powered auger, which seemed to take forever. It finally pushed
through the thick ice and soon water was gushing up through the hole. He moved
over a few feet and cut another hole and a few feet away two more for me.
Ice fishing poles are small, about 18” so they can be set up
so all we had to do was watch them. Once everything was in place, we could stop
and relax. The air was crisp and clear, the sunrise was reflecting off the lake and
the moon was setting in the distance. The quiet was amazing – all we could hear
was the wind blowing. I began to understand what appealed to my son and the weathered
group of fishermen around us. It was as if we were in a world of our own – it was
just us and the fish, with no interruptions from the rest of the world.
My son baited two rods with small live minnows, which we
dropped into the cold depths of the lake. Just as I began to settle in with my newspaper
next to the propane heater, one of the rods started to quiver. My son jumped up
and made the first catch of the day – a nice 8” yellow perch, big enough to be
a keeper. He yelped, and that started our day of fishing. I soon realized the newspaper
would have to wait. For the next few hours, we worked together – baiting hooks
and unhooking fish, until we had close to two dozen fresh lake perch – enough for
a family meal.
We stopped around noon, the fish had quit biting and we were
getting hungry for lunch. We packed up and headed off the lake with our catch.
That night, as we all enjoyed the perch dinner, my son and I shared the
memories of the day, and I gained an appreciation for fishing a whole new way.