New Season - First Time Out

      As I started to unload the pickup truck, the below zero air bit at my face, and the little sacks in my lungs began to burn as I took a breath. That feeling you get could only mean one thing, cold weather, frozen water, and the start of the ice fishing season!

The sun was two hours from setting, got to hurry, no time for appreciating things like freezing your lungs and nose hairs when there's trophy walleyes to be caught. Let's see, check the gear: sled, spud, tip-ups, tackle, minnows, jaw spreaders, pliers and last but not least fishing license.

The ice was a dark blackish-blue color. It was the kind of ice that you truly feel you're walking on water. Walking out to the end of the dock judging the thickness of the ice by a nearby crack, there appeared to be 4 to 6 inches of good, solid, clear ice. Heart pounding as it always does the first time out for the season no matter how many times I do it. It's those first steps of the season that are kind of freaky.

Grabbing on tightly to the dock, hoping my guesstimate of ice thickness was accurate I slowly put my weight on the ice. Ahhh… the first step on, still dry and no cracking sounds, cool! Now the next test, throw my trusty old spud into her. A resounding Boom! It sounded like a bolt of lightening striking nearby. At the same time, a crack in the ice ripped all the way across the whole lake. Smiling, I knew then, that I was the first one to set foot on it and release some pressure that had been building since the lake had completely frozen over. Chipping a small hole to reach down to feel its thickness, there was all of 4 inches. Yes! I felt safe. Go!

Chipping every step of the way making sure the ice was consistent I envisioned monstrous walleyes swimming into the shallows looking for something to eat. The fish had been totally undisturbed for at least two weeks while there had been windy cold weather, then the ice sealing the lake from fishermen and their boats.

The walk only takes 15 minutes but it seems like an eternity, just can't seem to walk fast enough. Three hundred yards to go, two hundred, one hundred, finally my spot! It doesn't take very long to find my honey holes after so many years. I know the weed line like the back of my hand. I walk right to the hot spot and pound a dozen holes. Within fifteen minutes three lines are set in. Now, sit down, be quiet and play the waiting game. I used to hate waiting but it seems that time goes by unnoticed. Several hours can escape without so much as a flag (tip-up) or any action at all for that matter. It's just the love of being out there whether you're freezing, hungry or tired there's a certain bunch of us that just can't seem to get enough. Our wives and girlfriends think were all nuts, goofy in the head, crazy or have frost bitten brains.

There was a small sliver of orange glowing sun just above the horizon, my favorite time of the evening. The orange flags on the tip-ups glowed brightly as if they were fluorescent. This is the time, prime time! Wondering why a flag hadn't gone up yet, I began to check if everything was working properly, lifting one of the set-lines I noticed the minnow had died. Putting a fresh minnow on, noticing out of the corner of my eye one of the other flags was up! Creeping quietly over to it, there was no sign of movement. Waiting patiently for about 10 seconds, (time does not fly at this point) watching closely for any sign of movement, nothing happened.

Looking down into the hole I noticed the line was not going straight down but extremely off to the side. Okay, fish on! Knowing the minnow couldn't possibly be doing this, I turned the spool while lifting the tip-up out of the water so as not to give any indication to the fish that something strange is going on. The tip up was laid gently on the ice, line pinched between fingers. Giving a gentle tug to set the hook, the fish answered back with a massive head jerk! There's only one fish that does this…. an elusive walleye... a gargantuan walleye!

The fight was on! He couldn't have more than five feet of line out. Tink tink, the sound that light line makes when it's pushed to its limit. Head jerk! Bam! Bam! Bam! The fish knew it only had two chances to escape, one by tangling itself in the bull rushes, and two by snapping the line. Circling the hole the walleye would give several head jerks in a row trying to gain every advantage that it could. This was repeated several times, but I was gaining line on the fish slowly but surely. Finally, I saw it. It cruised by the hole, looking as though it wouldn't fit. Hypnotizing me with the flick of its tail, the walleye made its move and circled hard for the weed line catching a bull rush. Using the weed for leverage the walleye unhooked itself, and the battle was over. Whew!

My heart was slamming and I had that 'hole in your stomach' feeling you get when you think you may have just missed the biggest walleye of your life! It had been several years since I had tangled with a real big boy, and I wondered just how many more chances I was going to get.

The rest of the evening went by without incident, no action whatsoever. Staying several hours into dark hoping for a chance at another big one or any fish for that matter. But the action for the evening was over and it was time to go home. Somewhat disappointed but knowing that another chance would come. Thinking that, what fun would it be if you caught everything? That's fishing, part of what makes ice fishing so much fun.