I am not the world’s biggest ice fishing fan. I prefer fishing in the summer—relaxing under sunny blue skies, listening to the waves lapping against the side of the boat and the wind rustling through the trees. When I’m out on the water, I don’t really care if I catch a fish or not.
I enjoy casting and reeling the line in, but unfortunately I seldom get anything on my hook. But fishing from a boat, I don’t care. There is plenty to keep me entertained— turtles sunning on rocks, eagles perching in giant pines overhead, ducks and geese and once in awhile a loon swimming by. Life is good in a boat.
But my husband Chuck loves ice fishing. He likes the solitude of the winter lake and the challenge of drilling a hole in just the right spot and picking the perfect lure. He’s pretty good at it. We’ve had some nice lake trout dinners, thanks to his hobby.
Chuck finds it hard to believe that not everyone likes ice fishing as much as he does. He has talked me into going out with him few times and I have to admit I had a good time. I enjoyed the ride to the lake on the snowmobile, winding through the snow-covered trees. It is interesting, watching him figure out where he wants to drill the hole and then watching the auger carve its way through the ice until the gush of fresh water signals that the hole is open. It is really interesting to see the circular pattern left by the ice auger and the color of the cut ice is indescribable.
However, after the ride and the initial set-up, I get bored, sitting in the little ice tent with its tiny little window that you can’t really see out of. The seats in his portable ice house are not that comfortable and I get tired of sitting, but there really isn’t room to move around. My luck fishing in the winter is worse than in the summer, so my line and lure just sit there as time slowly passes.
Worse, although Chuck catches fish nearly every time he goes ice fishing alone, when I’ve gone with— nothing. We get skunked. I never got to see a fish pulled through the ice.
So I was skeptical when Chuck suggested a mini-vacation. The sort of mini-vacation that only a true Minnesota husband would offer—a weekend at Lake of the Woods, in a sleeper ice house.
Now, truth be told, we had talked about this while sitting in his little portable house on an area lake. I may have said I wanted to try this more luxurious method of ice fishing. I may have said I would like to fish in an icehouse where I could walk around, look out the window, and even play cards. I may have mentioned that I would like not having to get up and dressed to venture out into the cold to fish in the early hours, when they say the fish are biting.
I didn’t really think that Chuck would want to take me on an ice fishing adventure. I’m a bit of a girly-girl when it comes to fishing. I don’t like to bait my own hook. I can do it, if I must, but I would rather not. And I have yet to get a flopping fish off the hook myself. The few times I’ve caught a fish, I just hand the line to Chuck and he graciously handles it.
But we like spending time together, so he puts up with my angling challenges and I go fishing with him whenever I can. So, when he suggested trying the sleeper icehouse experience, I agreed. And I’m quite glad I did. It was definitely an adventure.
I wouldn’t say it was luxurious. The icehouse was miles and miles out on the lake on a bumpy ice road weaving around choppy pressure ridge formations. The house itself was cozy and warm, but it wasn’t exactly clean and it smelled like fish. And I won’t even talk about the toilet facility—or lack of.
But, all that pales because I caught a couple of fish. It was a thrill to finally see the bobber bounce as a fish hit it and then slowly get dragged down. It was exciting to give it a jerk and then reel in a fish! It was delightful to wake up to Chuck’s shout, “I got one! I got one!” while landing a beautiful walleye. There is little in life that tastes better than fresh fish for lunch, cooked up on the spot.
Now that I’ve finally had ice fishing success, I think that spending the day in the portable icehouse might not be so bad. I might just catch a delicious dinner. I think I’m hooked.
The charm of fishing is that it is
the pursuit of what is elusive but
attainable, a perpetual series of
occasions for hope.
John Buchan
Leave a Reply