First Ice

Around the time the mums begin to wither and oaks are the only trees left with leaves, diehard ice anglers experience a concoction of feelings—equal parts eagerness and excitement peppered with a dash of agita. These feelings wash over like a wave with the first true cold snap of fall. Akin to a bat signal, it sends hardwater fanatics across the north to basements and garages to tie leaders, tinker with tip-ups, and dust-off augers. We set up crude tanks and trek to streams or ponds to catch bait. We interpret long-range weather forecasts and Farmers’ Almanacs. We look to nature for signs of a pending hard winter: an unusual abundance of acorns; early departure of waterfowl; the width of the brown bands on woolly bear caterpillars. We wait for ice.

Ice fishing is unique and highly anticipated for a bevy of reasons. Perhaps the most important is that the allotted time anglers are able to partake in it each year is very unpredictable. We have zero idea when the season will begin or end any given winter. In comparison, I know exactly when blackfish season starts; I can set my watch by when migratory striped bass show up; I can go to my local tailwater and catch trout all year long. For ice fisherman, Mother Nature is the ultimate decider when our season starts and stops. We must be patient. 

Here in southern New England, in our coldest winters, the fishable ice window is about three months long, four if we are lucky. Some years things don’t always pan out that way. I’ve experienced more than one season that started with an early freeze and came to a halt with a midwinter thaw. I’ve also witnessed ice seasons that never got going until the late innings with only a handful of bodies of water locking up. While walking on water is more of a certainty to our north, it’s still not a guarantee on large and popular lakes like Sebago and George. As the old adage goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder and ice fishing’s indefinite and limited timeframe each winter certainly helps me appreciate it more. 

Though I get jazzed up for any kind of fishing, the lead up to first ice—that brief period when lakes and ponds initially freeze over with clear, hard ice—is tough to beat. When our quarry, unpressured for weeks, sometimes months, are still active and sense the coming doldrums ahead. This can translate into fast action—whether jigging up a pile of panfish or chasing flags all day—and it’s not unheard of to pull your best fish of the season during this early part of the season. It’s not some magical time where fish are committing hara-kiri on the end of your line but I’ve doing this long enough to know that you want to be on the ice as early as you can once it starts.

There are no hard and fast rules with first ice. For example, we know it begins when liquid finally becomes solid, but it’s less precise when it ends. First ice doesn’t necessarily happen all at once either. Your shallower lakes and ponds lock up first, naturally. That’s why bass, pike, and pickerel are usually first on many anglers’ target list. As the season progresses, deeper bodies of water follow suit and ice anglers start spreading out to target different species like trout, walleye, and crappie. 

There is nothing in the world like walking on a sheet of black ice before any snow covers it. It’s a thing of beauty—the consistency and hardness of it and its lack of imperfections; the way shanty anchors bite into it and the crunching sounds boot studs make on it. The optics of black ice are surreal. When walking over shallows, you can make out every piece of structure from boulders to weed lines to stumps. If you’re really lucky and hook into something under black ice, you get a first-row seat to the tug-of-war right underneath your feet. It’s a wild experience.

As in any type of fishing, having a small circle of friends that you trust and share information with pays dividends, but it’s tough relying solely on second-hand ice reports. Checking the ice’s thickness and quality yourself is the only way to know for sure. I live at least an hour’s drive from my favorite ice spots, so scouting is both time consuming and costly, yet those who scout are usually on the ice first, long before anything trickles down to social media. There’s been times I’ve bailed from work early to check spots that I had hoped to walk on the following day only to find wide-open with white caps. I’ve also gambled without scouting and drove 90 minutes only to be been turned away from crap ice, all before the sunup. First ice will always be a risk/reward scenario—wait until word gets out or be one of the first groups out there. 

I don’t have the flexibility at home or at work as I once did, so I try to make the most of every opportunity and relish the days or nights on the ice when they come. I’ve come to accept that that feeling in the pit of my stomach won’t ever go away when I am stuck at work knowing other anglers, friends or not, are drilling holes on fresh ice. I know they feel the same way when the tables are turned. Just fish when you can.

Here I am, more than 20 years after being introduced to hardwater, and those feelings of excitement and anxiousness as the season approaches haven’t faded a bit. My sled is packed and ready by the basement door like a bird dog waiting for the next upland hunting trip. Until then I’m keeping an eye on the weather and hoping for a string of calm, cold nights. If we’re fortunate to get some good ice this winter, have fun out there and stay on top.

In Search Of Togue

The tradition lives on! Another great road trip in the books for Sebago Lake's annual lake trout derby. The fishing was tough, but everyone managed to put a togue on the ice. Being the only fools without a snow mobile, I can safely say that we worked harder than any group out there trudging through two feet of snow. The 22.42-pound beast of a trout that won the derby was a welcomed reminder of the potential that Sebago holds, but it's all about the good times and camaraderie that keep us coming back. A special shout out to Wayne from Maine for hosting us again--can't wait for next year!

Maine Humble Pie

An ice fishing road trip that I pencil in every season is to Maine's Sebago Lake. Good friends of my family have lived next to this massive body of water since I can remember. Every February for the last several years they have hosted me for the Derbyfest. This annual two-day tournament draws thousands of ice addicts from all over New England to Maine's deepest lake to compete for the heaviest lake trout, also referred to as togue or lakers. Coveted prizes like boats and snow mobiles are given out to top finishers, which normally require a trout well over the double-digit mark. To up the ante this year, a $100,000 reward was posted for anyone who could topple the state record togue, a 31-pound beast caught in 1958.

Aaron's new fishing mobile received baptism by fire on this trip

Derrick, Aaron and I met on a rainy Friday morning and packed Aaron's new truck for its inaugural fishing trip.  What a better way to break it in than a run up to Maine in gnarly weather?  We packed as "light" as we could, yet still needed to strap three sleds and a pop-up shelter to the roof just to fit everything.  We made it to Kittery without issue and stopped for some fine New England sea fare at Bob's Clam Hut.  After getting back on the highway, we soon crossed the rain/snow line and the road conditions instantly turned treacherous. An oblivious driver in an FJ Cruiser sped past us in the fast lane, lost control and hit a snow bank, causing the vehicle to barrel-roll three times. Thankfully, it landed right side up and looked relatively unscathed, though I dialed 911 and a few other cars stopped to assist regardless. We continued on at a snail's pace shaking our heads as to what had just happened.

After another long hour on the road, we pulled up to Jordan's, a rustic lake-side general store that's always buzzing come Derby time. This is where we stocked up on bait, live white suckers and rainbow smelt, as well as picked up our Derby registration and three-day licenses. Next stop was Wayne's house, our headquarters for the weekend. After a big Maine dinner, we sat around the wood stove catching up, tinkering with new gear, and hatching a game plan for the next morning. With a fresh foot of powder on the lake and no snow mobile, our crew would be severely limited on where we could fish.  We scoured a Sebago depth chart for some sharp drop-offs that were walkable distances from shore. A spot was agreed upon, yet with no recent scouting it was like throwing a dart at the map.   

Sebago drops to a mind-boggling 314 deep in its Big Bay

We got a later start the first day than we would have liked, mostly due to the home-brew Wayne's brother busted out the night before.  And as expected, the snow slowed us down quite a bit, although we managed to carve out a nice piece of real estate with the depths we were looking for.  Our tip-ups were set off bottom in water ranging from 60 to 110 feet deep.  I also drilled a few dozen extra holes in between for jigging.  It was slow going in terms of action.  We marked some fish on our electronics, though they were acting far from aggressive.  Enticing these lakers into their characteristic cat-and-mouse chase was difficult.  The tip-up action wasn't much better either.  Sometime mid-morning I got my one and only flag of the weekend, which turned out to be a "chew and screw" with about 20 yards of line taken out and no one home.  We kept working hard though, changing jigs and presentations, moving traps around, and varying depths, all the while cooking, eating, and BSing the day away.  Staying mobile and purely jigging is arguably the most effective tactic for icing lake trout, yet with a group of our size that is there for fishing and camaraderie, staying put and hammering a chosen area was the plan of attack.



Trap fishing with smelt set off bottom can be an effective tactic for Sebago lake trout

Derrick eventually put the group on the board when his sole flag of the weekend produced a small lake trout from 67 feet down.  It was the right species, just the wrong size by about 12-pounds we would later find out.  As day one wore on, the lack of life underneath us only became more apparent.  The bite was off plain and simple.  After a full day working hard with little to show, we packed up and went back to the drawing board.  A hot meal was waiting for us back at headquarters and we sat around the table staring at the map again.  We could have easily gone back to spot number one, taken what we had learned and tweaked our presentations for day two.  However, we chose a spot about a mile away, directly in front of the family lake house, hoping that the home turf would would generate some good luck.

Derrick's small lake trout that ate a smelt was the only one we saw all weekend

In short, Sebago didn't treat us any better on Sunday.  Old Man Winter welcomed us back to the lake with a raw wind and mixed precipitation that came in sideways.  The warm confines of the pop-up shelter were inviting, though we mostly braved the elements and jigged like mad-men knowing our time in Maine was growing short.  Unfortunately, for the second day in a row our fish finders stayed blank for the most part.  A few willing fish rose off bottom, yet triggering them into biting was difficult to say the least.  In my limited experience, when the bite is "on", it's really on.  Many seasoned anglers caught their share of lakers that weekend, including one lucky Mainer with a 14.14-pounder that took first place, but we just couldn't make it happen.  However, a phone call one week later had me scratching my head, as our host and his brother caught 10 lake trout a piece up to 6-pounds.  It was like the lake trout action turned on like a light switch.  Air plane jigs, spoons, tip-ups with smelt - it didn't matter.  With my jaw dropped, Wayne told me fish were bursting 40 feet off the bottom in 70 feet of water to smash their baits without hesitation.  Man, I wish that was the case during our trip, but that is the roll of the dice that are road trips.  All in all, it was a classic time as always.  And one of these years we're bound to get lucky and hit pay dirt.  Unbeknownst to me, this trip would be my last real trip of the 2010/2011 ice season.  It will be good to get back in the swing of open water fishing until I'm chomping at the bit for ice again next November... 

The Motley Crew with high hopes on day one

Until next year....

Lakers

Lake trout are revered as one of the premier freshwater game-fish of North America. For many anglers, there isn't a better time of year to target them than in the thick of winter. Unlike many sweetwater species, lakers, or togue, as they are sometimes referred to, are more active in the colder months, which makes them excellent quarry for ice fishermen. Although a lake trout fishery does not exist here in Connecticut, they thrive in several deep, cold lakes of New England, one of which we traveled to last weekend.

The annual lake trout derby on Maine's Sebago Lake is something that I look forward to each winter. This tournament can take on a real circus atmosphere, yet I pencil it in every year and the trip's crew continues to grow. I'm not a big fan of fishing tournaments, but I make an exception for the Sebago derby. The big water experience is something I can't get on my home waters and there is a chance to stick a trophy fish with every drop of your jig. The $65,000 in prizes doesn’t hurt either.

Good friends, who have long since moved to Maine from Connecticut, have hosted me since my first derby years ago. It wasn't long before I introduced my uncle to the scene on Maine's second largest lake. To round out the crew this year, two more die-hard fishing buddies signed-on. We headed north Friday morning in a truck spilling out with gear, only to binge at four more shops along the way, including the staple stop at New Hampshire's duty-free liquor warehouse.

For weeks leading up to the tournament, I monitored Sebago's ice conditions and weather forecasts via internet forums and telephone calls. The sad reality was that most of the lake was ice free, including each location I had ice fished in past derbies. Sebago's monstrous Big Bay had skimmed over a few times this winter, but each time wind and even rain ruined her chances of locking up for good. Where there was ice, it was quickly becoming questionable and thousands of anglers on ATV's, snow-mobiles, and on foot would soon be risking their lives for fish. This same ice scenario played out a few years ago and tournament officials decided to play it safe and open the derby statewide.  However, this year, for reasons I cannot explain, the powers at be decided to go on with the Sebago tournament as planned, even with her sketchy ice conditions and miles-long pressure ridges.

Upon arriving to the shores of Sebago Friday afternoon, we used fading daylight to scout potential fishing locations for the following two days, or so we thought. As luck would have it, we talked to the right gentleman in a parking lot overlooking Sebago's Lower Bay, which was already dotted with dozens of ice shacks, and would undoubtedly be a zoo in the morning. This Good Samaritan put our group of four out-of-towners on two remote access points; spots we would never have stumbled upon on our own. Each area was clearly posted "private", but with most of the lake unfishable, we decided to take our chances to get away from the masses.

We headed back to the weekend headquarters in Steep Falls, where we tweaked gear, ate like kings, and swapped stories around the woodstove, while sipping choice beverages. Morning came fast and we let the sun rise before setting out, mostly for safety purposes, as no one wanted to cross the pressure cracks for the first time at dark-thirty. With help from a bathymetric map, we found suitable depth changes diagonally off a fishy-looking point. The Nils power auger made short work of the ice and before long over one hundred 8-inch holes were punched in the vicinity. We set up traps with dead baits right on bottom, in depths ranging from 50 to 90 feet of water.

Our group soon got to jigging.  All the tried-and-true laker jigs that we had heard or read about made an appearance, from tube jigs stuffed with sucker meat to Airplane jigs tipped with fish fillets.We did manage to mark some targets and even got a few to chase, but they lacked any real commitment and the fish seemed to be glued to the bottom.

The one and only flag of the entire day tripped mid-morning in about 70 feet of water. It was one of Derrick’s traps and he had to make a 150-yard dash from a solo jigging mission. There was a healthy amount of line taken out and when he finally caught up, it was taught and off to the side – a great sign. A solid hook set was made and it was game on. After a few minutes and some nice runs, flashes began to show through the hole. Aaron readied the gaff and gently pulled the trout from water. Derrick’s first lake trout was on the ice and our group was on the board. The fish weighed in at 6.4 lbs. and held first place for much of the day.

All the while we jigged, cooked and relaxed, the ice was melting from underneath us. For Maine, in February, it was a beach day. The predicted winds for Saturday were thankfully off the mark and the mercury reached the mid-forties. I don’t think anyone anticipated how quickly the “safe” ice would deteriorate. The pressure ridges grew wider and wetter with each pass from the ATVs and snow machines. The ice began to turn noticeably soft too and the Nils took less and less time to drill through it. We heard air boats humming around the lake, but little did we know that they were being used by Maine game wardens to ferry off anglers trapped on sketchy ice. I had the utmost confidence that the crew I had invited brought the tools, knowledge and experience to get home safely, but that cannot be said for everyone that walked on the lake that day. 

After a tough day of fishing, and a long walk back to the truck, we were greeted in the lot by two game wardens who notified us that second day of the tournament would be canceled due to the now horrible ice conditions. We were told that seven vehicles, eight ATVs, two snow-mobiles, and 18 anglers went in the drink that day, thankfully none of which were hurt seriously.

Photo credit: Aaron Swanson



We were happy to be on terra firma, but extremely bummed that our chances for another lake trout ended right there in that dirt lot. There were parts of Sebago that could still support anglers, and even snow machines, but it just wasn’t worth the risk. We headed back to home base and recapped the day over a Thanksgiving-style meal. Another night full of laughs and stories commenced and we plotted a backup plan for the morning. A classic lake with a brown trout and alewife combination was chosen, as the other quality lake trout destinations were too far of a drive.  We came to Maine to fish for lake trout and the gear and mentality we brought showed that.  Although a very good time, the next day's fishing was anticlimactic.  We took our time and we took our skunk standing safely on 16 inches of ice.  Each trip is a learning experience and one can never stop learning.  Enjoy the video; tight lines.