Today found me on a lake just miles from the Canadian Border. Three inches of fresh snow fell overnight and snow continued thru the day at a rate prohibiting views across the lake. Winds were blowing 25-35mph and the ravens loved every bit of it--riding the winds like stuntmen, swooping thru openings in the forest, and providing all the arial acrobatics one would expect from a flight show (with the addition of joyful raven vocabulary). The morning temperature was 20 degrees F. and falling rapidly throughout the day. By the time I was drilling holes in the ice it was hovering just above 5 degrees F with a biting windchill well below zero... a windchill advisory was issued by the National Weather Service for expected windchills -25 and -40 degrees F.
Once arriving at the fishing hole in near white-out conditions the tasks became: drill shallow hole and set the tip-up, drill holes out from that to find the drop-off, locate magic depth, and erect the portable ice house. The latter became the most challenging as once erected the ice house became one big sail and the +30mph winds tried their hardest to turn it into a north country tumble weed. But, with some jockeying, everything finally got set up with nothing (or no one) blowing away.
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| Near white-out conditions during set-up that continued to degrade into night. |
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| The deadstick rod... |
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| Old Man on the jigging spoon... |
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| They're not biting yet... |
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| The first of a whole bunch of 1-2 pound walleyes. |
The action hit fast and gave no warning. The swedish pimple sporting a freshly decapitated minnow head got the first hit. Swing and a miss. A slight raise and a few more jiggles and wham-o... the first fish on the ice. From that point on we couldn't bait fast enough! The deadstick rod would get hit as soon as it was dropped down and the bobber met its stop. Next to that, the jigging spoon was good for a few jigs before either getting hit or getting a fish. The wind pounding the portable shelter was soon forgotten. Cold hands, feet, and faces didn't exist anymore. The sound of gale force winds scouring the pines on shore weren't heard. For the next half an hour it was nothing but a pure walleye orgy. And then as soon as it started the fish moved on and the action was over.
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| A few walleyes kept for dinner. |
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