Return of the Jig

I really enjoy ice fishing with tip-ups, but there is something special, and different, about jigging. Hooking and fighting my quarry through the ice with a rod and reel is such a thrill to me. When the target species is a quality trout that rushes 20 feet up the water column to eat a metal spoon I am pulling away, well, even better. 

It had been 11 winters since my last trip to this favorite body of water. Like seeing an old friend, we picked up right where we left off. I already can't wait to get back there, and God willing it won't be as long until next time. 

The King

Fishermen have long had a love/hate relationship with the Internet. On one hand it has turned us on to new angling opportunities, methods, spots, and the list goes on. On the other hand, everyone and their brother has access to that same information, which can lead to overcrowding, overfishing, loss of access, and that list goes on too. Whatever your school of thought about fishing and the Internet, at least two things are true: 1) you're reading this now thanks to it, and 2) it has connected all of us to other like-minded anglers. 

A fine example of the latter is my friendship with a fellow fish bum named Jon that I met through CTFisherman. For years now, Jon and I have shared valuable fishing information back and forth from our respective experiences on the water and ice. I love writing publicly, but I also enjoy having a small circle of anglers that I can confide in about a hot bite or a certain spot without the whole fishing community able to find out. Jon is a good guy to have in your circle. 

A few years ago, he moved from Connecticut to New York, which put him a stone's throw away from some incredible fishing opportunities, none more so than through the ice of Lake George (affectionately referred to some as "The King" due to its namesake, King George II). In the last few years, Jon has established himself among a pack of lake trout gurus, which has really helped cut his learning curve on Lake George and dial-in his jigging technique.It didn't matter much in 2012 as the massive lake never froze, but this past winter was another story when Jon iced over 100 lakers before I realized what I was missing just a little over three hours away.

News from Jon about a good bite materializing on The King started coming in early February. There was an open invitation, but it was difficult to commit to a weekend in the Adirondacks with a trip to Maine already scheduled. It wasn't until the ride home from the Sebago skunking when I made up my mind to continue the quest for lake trout the following weekend. Who knows when the next time this kind of opportunity would present itself? With the blessing from the home front, it was all systems go to New York with my good buddy Aaron on board and anxious as me. 

The only missing piece was Jon. He couldn't join us that weekend, yet was more than happy to offer a weekend of lake trout fishing on a silver platter in the form of access points, GPS coordinates, and advice on everything from tackle to technique. All we had to do was show up and show up we did on a Saturday morning in late February. For the next two days Aaron and I didn't do much other than fish our brains out for lake trout. We barely ate, drank or stopped to soak in the scenery. It was a constant state of working to figure out the continuous stream of lake trout showing up on our electronics. It was ice fishing at a furious pace and we loved every second of it. I'll save the rest of the story for another time and let the photos and video speak for themselves. Thanks again, Jon!

When Going Gets Tough

It began smack in the middle of February with my yearly journey to see a longtime fishing buddy, Wayne from Maine. For weeks leading up to the trip, I anxiously watched weather forecasts waiting for a windless cold snap that never came. Instead, Sebago Lake remained mostly ice-free for the second year in a row and the annual lake trout derby we've built a tradition around was canceled again. Even though the Big Bay would've required a boat to fish, thankfully two of Sebago's smaller bays had enough ice for our liking and our plans to chase "togue" remained intact.

As always on the eve of our first day of fishing, we made the customary stop to oldschool Jordan's General Store nestled on Sebago Lake's western shore. Jordan's is a tiny one-stop shop for essentials like bait, beer and recent intel from Greg Cutting, the resident lake trout whisperer. Greg had been ice fishing Sebago the past three days with very little to show for it, but he assured us the fish had to eat eventually and why not during the two days I was in town?  Just before leaving, we huddled around a big bathymetric map on the wall and picked a spot that had treated us well in the past; one that could be reached on foot and offered a nice array of drop-offs that lakers seem to love.

Ice huts dot Sebago Lake's Lower Bay

A collection of Swedish Pimples, a tried and true lake trout lure.

After a fun night of catching up over drinks and darts, we gave the sun time to creep up before staking our claim between a few groups already established on Sebago's Lower Bay. In depths ranging from 40 to over 100 feet of water, our crew of four set a large spread of tip-ups with dead suckers on bottom and live smelt hanging just off. In between I drilled a few dozen extra holes for jigging, which is easily my favorite way to fish for lakers. It had been exactly one year since I'd last targeted them and optimism was high right out of the gate. Weather conditions seemed fishy and we dropped down everything but the kitchen sink, yet I can count on one hand the amount of marks that showed up on the electronics that day. Still, a tough outing on Sebago was nothing new for us, nor did it keep us from having a blast in a most beautiful winter setting. Plus we still had a whole day of ice fishing ahead of us, right?

It's a proven fact that breakfast sandwiches taste better on Sebago Lake

Tools of the trade

Jigging like a madman

Day 2: Hell on Ice

When I awoke in the dark the following morning, the wind was already howling and there was a fresh coat of snow covering the ground. The forecast for the day wasn't a good one, but we were accustomed to nasty weather, especially on derby weekend. It became clear just how bad it was going to be while we were unloading our gear in the empty lakeside parking lot. No one, I repeat, no one else was stubborn (read dumb) enough to be out in those punishing conditions, but Wayne and I only get to ice fish together one weekend a year so it wasn't up for debate. 

The chosen location was a different spot than the day before and required about a mile trek to where two points bottleneck the bay. The spot looked great on paper and it made sense to try an area where lake trout could easily ambush prey. The only bad thing about walking a mile to a spot is the walk back and we probably definitely would have abandoned the plan if the wind was in our face to start. Instead we trudged single file in each others footsteps to our destination over 80 feet of water. The pop-up shelter would be a Godsend this day and we all had to work together to make sure it didn't blow across the lake while setting it up. Once everything was anchored down, I drilled some holes inside the hut and set up shop. Wayne, his son and friend were crazy enough to set traps outside, but I focused my efforts inside and hoped the lake trout would come to me.

Even the little things were tough on day two




Brutal is the first word that comes to mind when describing conditions on day two. The situation was so hellish outside the shelter that it easily ranked among the top three worst weather days I've ever fished in. Nevertheless, we still had our chances to hook up. Over the course of the morning, about a half dozen trout showed up on the screen and you could almost cut the tension with a knife each time it happened. No matter what we danced in front of their faces, we couldn't get them to chase.  

With a mile walk and a four hour drive hanging over me, it was an easy decision to call it a day before lunch. The next 45 minutes was something I wouldn't wish on my worse enemy. It was a head-down-hands-in-pockets walk back to the lot, only looking up every few minutes to make sure I was still on the right trajectory. Wayne and I can look back on it now and laugh, but it was tough day to be an ice fisherman. But it's tough days like that Sunday on Sebago that make the good days so sweet. And little did I know that I would have a couple really good days on another famous lake several hundred miles away just a week later.

The walk of shame

Lake George Road Trip

My ice fishing gear may be in storage for an eight month hiatus, but I'm still reliving trips from this past winter like they were yesterday. One that sticks out was a road trip to Lake George in New York. My buddy Jon who lives in that region had been telling me for years that I needed to get there. It was one of those things that I brushed off by saying, "I know, I know. Maybe next year!" Well the stars and moon aligned in February, and on the heels of a brutal skunking in Maine, my friend Aaron and I headed to the Adirondacks with hopes of better luck for lake trout. Unfortunately, Jon couldn't fish with us, but to say he put things on a silver platter for us would be an understatement. I'm talking GPS points right to the holes that he caught over 100 lake trout out of this winter. The two day binge was some of the most fun I've ever had on ice. We worked so hard we barely had time to eat or drink. The crazy part is, we were just truly getting dialed in on the trout right before it was time to head back to civilization. It's all good though, the Lake George seed has been planted and it's spreading like wildfire. Like Sebago Lake and Cuttyhunk, I have a feeling this trip will be an annual staple moving forward.

I hope to share more details about the road trip soon. In the meantime, here is our two days on Lake George boiled down to four minutes.

All In

Hopes of ice fishing in Connecticut melted away a few weeks ago, but neighbors farther north are still hanging on to a fading season. Each February for the last several years I have traveled to Maine for the Sebago Lake Derbyfest, a massive annual ice fishing tournament focused on lake trout. Being the huge body of water it is, Sebago doesn't always cooperate by locking up with ice from shore to shore and you can't have a an ice fishing event with thousands of people involved if the whole lake isn't 100% good to go. Determined to keep this winter tradition alive, I entered annual Maine's Statewide Derby two weeks later. This ice tournament encompasses all lakes and ponds in the Pine Tree State and, in addition to lake trout, has categories for muskie, pike and pickerel.

Last Friday I drove 215 miles to to the home of my good friend Wayne. He used live across the street from my parents before moving north about eight years ago. We would fish together for striped bass, trout and walleye, as well as drink many a Bud heavy in his garage. As crappy as it was to see him leave Connecticut, Wayne fits in well in Maine and it gives me a great excuse to visit each winter.  His son and brother also made the trek and rounded out a classic crew for the weekend. The only thing left was to settle was where to fish.

No toys were spared for the season-ending voyage

The annual tax-free pitstop

All of us wanted a crack at lake trout, or togue as they are widely known in Maine. We don't have them in our lakes back home and they are fun as hell to target through the ice, especially with a jigging rod. With help from electronics, it won't take long to see why many find fishing for lakers addicting; their cat-and-mouse chase game before striking or passing up an offering. It's an exhilarating feeling to have a big mark on your screen rushing up and down the water column after a jig. Sometimes it's a rapid ascent from the bottom that triggers their interest, while other times they prefer a series of gradual rises and pauses.  Then there are times where they won't commit or the fish finder resembles a barren desert. In short, jigging for lake trout can be active, challenging and fun all bundled together. 

The one and only true trophy lake trout fishery in southern Maine is Sebago Lake. But on the eve of our first day, this vast, deep body of water was 99% ice-free and had full on white caps rolling over where we usually fish. To conjure up game plan, we paid a visit to Greg, the local ice fishing sharpie at the lakeside Jordan's store that I've been dropping by since I was a kid.  He let us know about a cove on the other side of the lake had about 6 inches of ice extending one mile from shore. The revelation that we could fish for togue without driving an hour or more to do so was well taken. We bought white suckers and shiners, soaked in more information and set off for a hearty meal of venison that Wayne's brother Roy harvested during Connecticut's black powder season. The thought of an early alarm clock was neglected for a fun night of drinking, darts and tinkering with tackle. No one was in a crazy rush anyway with the weather forecast on tap.

Last minute tinkering before a weekend on the ice

Cold beers, a warm fire, and "Cricket" passed the hours at headquarters

Rain and ice fishing don't mix well.  All it does is create sloppy conditions and make every task harder to do out there. Saturday's forecast called for mixed precipitation at dawn, changing over to all rain through early afternoon. We knew this well in advance, but there's only so much you can do to prepare for it. The one positive thing about the gnarly weather was that it kept crowding to a minimum that first day. Or maybe it was just that no one wanted to fish the only frozen patch of ice on a gigantic lake. There were only a few trucks in the parking lot when we arrived and we set out towards the black dots on the horizon that were anglers already setting up. 

It was a good mile walk to the point that Greg told us he found fish near the morning before. Each step punched through the melting layer of snow and slowed our progress. The chosen spot featured shoreline 100 yards to our right, anglers 50 yards to our left and open water 30 yards to our front. Underneath us was a gradual drop off from 30 to 60 feet of water; not a bad ambush spot for lake trout, on paper at least. We set up the trusty, yet aging shelter right off the bat. Without it the day would have ended hours sooner than it did.  It leaked like a sieve at the seams, but when the sky opened up we were all  happy to have it. Next everyone got to work. Dozens of holes were drilled, tip-ups were set and jigs were dropped to the bottom. I focused on a long line of holes along the drop off and began mobile jigging, setting a few baited traps as I went. 

After a couple hours of no flags going off and staring at a blank screen in the rain, I headed for the shelter, drilled one more hole and made my last stand. The two "waterproof" outer shells I brought only held up for so long; I was wet to the bone. The temperature was above freezing, but the damp cold was taking its toll. Morale was spiraling downward before Wayne shouted in the distance.  He was setting his last trap a little closer to shore and must have dropped his baitfish right on the head of a hungry lake trout. As soon as he put the tip-up on the ice, its flag tripped and nearly whacked him in the face. Wayne won the brief tug of war and a flopping 24.5-inch lake trout was on the ice and we were on the board.  I couldn't have thought of a better shot in the arm for our group than that first togue.

 

Wayne from Maine showed us how it's done on Sebago Lake.

Great coloration on the fins of this 4-plus pounder.

With a renewed sense of hope, we all got back to work after devouring bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches cooked the only way they could have, on a Coleman stove inside the shelter. The forecast called for sunshine after the rain moved out, so I occasionally glanced at a radar app on my phone with hopes that the yellow and green mess on the screen would pass quicker. During a check in one particularly heavy downpour, a text message from an ice fishing friend flashed across the screen: "Jig 'em up!"  No sooner did the phone go back in a dry sack did the first black mark rise off the bottom on my fish finder. I cranked the reel handle a few turns and the dance began.  The fish followed my chartreuse bucktail jig tipped with a white sucker fillet, but quickly lost interest and headed back down toward bottom. I flipped the bail and dropped the jig below him and, like he saw it for the first time, the togue followed the bucktail up a few feet before again losing interest.  However, the fate of this dance number was already sealed. After a few more rises and falls, the fish couldn't resist and inhaled the jig 35 feet below the ice. The pool cue of a rod made short work of the smallish trout.  For me, it was more about the how, the where, and the when that I was psyched about. I jigged up a togue from Sebago Lake in March!

The one and only lake trout I caught on Saturday



This trout liked the custom made bucktail jig I bought at Jordan's general store a few years ago

The two lake trout we caught on Saturday were hard earned. Our comfort level on a one to 10 scale was hovering near zero.  The rain and slush had cut down our angling effort, but it was obvious by the lack of activity seen that it just wasn't happening. The decision to cut our losses and dry out for day two was an easy one. The prospect of beer and whisky next to a stoked wood stove was hard to pass up. We packed up our wet and now heavier gear and made the long trek back to the lot.  Of course by the time we got there, the sun was finally breaking through the clouds.  

Just by entering lake trout in the Derby, regardless of size, gives anglers a chance to win prizes. So on the drive back we stopped by an official weigh station, which was a convenience store that had a Derby official at a counter with a measuring board and scale. At the time, Wayne's 4.36-pounder was the second place lake trout in the contest, but, as expected, heavier fish came in through the afternoon and the following day.  It was still fun being in the running even if only for a short time. Next we stopped at another bait shop for live smelt at $7 per dozen. These smelt were small, maybe 3 inches long, but were the exact forage Sebago's lakers predominantly feed on. The two dozen we bought would turn out to best money spent all weekend. 

Back at the homestead, Wayne's man cave was turned into a giant clothes line. A bunch of drinks and laughs followed another great meal, especially noteworthy because it was the first time I've ever eaten lake trout.  Wayne prepared "Togue chowda" and faked the thick Boston accent every time he said it. It was excellent and put to rest any misconceptions I've read online about lakers tasting so bad a cat would turn it down. Wayne's brother in-law, one of my childhood friends, stopped over and it was awesome catching up over a beer.  Wayne also broke out his father's Native American artifact collection, which got plenty of "oohs" and "ahhs" as the ancient stone tools were passed around the room. Quitting time was after midnight and the alarm clock came fast once again, but Sunday would offer a welcomed change of pace in both weather and action. 

Drying out in the man cave

"Togue Chowda" was surprisingly and utterly awesome

Wayne shared part of his father's Native American artifact collection.
These quartz projectile points were found in Connecticut farm fields. 

The plan of attack on Sunday was to head back to the same general area and take what we learned and hope some sort of bite materialized.  Surprisingly, even though the weather improved immensely, less anglers were set up on the slowly shrinking cove of ice. The temperatures dipped enough over night to freeze the slush on the ice to aid our mile walk out. Fishermen were already occupying the holes we drilled Saturday, so we pushed closer to the open water and away from the 10 or so others on the cove. There was a light south wind creating a chop and pushing water on to the ice, slowly eating it away. Even though what we were standing on was strong enough to support snow mobiles, the sound of open water so close was a little eerie at times. 

Without the rain bogging us down, everything was easier to do. We set up the shelter, but more to dry it out as we never stepped foot in it being so comfortable out. A few more traps were put in the water on Sunday too, increasing our odds of finding some action. It didn't take long to notice there was more going on below us than the day before in regards to activity.  Our fish finder screens displayed more life right away and that's where the live smelt came into play. On Sunday's jigging mission I drilled another long line of holes, but this time in pairs of two. In one hole I would drop down a jig like a classic white tube, an airplane jig, a Swedish Pimple, or the bucktail that produced the day prior. In the other hole I had a gold willow leaf hook tipped with a live smelt; the theory was the smelt would impart action to the willow leaf, which would put off gold flash and draw in passing fish. So I jigged aggressively to call in fish from the surrounding area. When one came in for a look yet wouldn't chase, then sent down the more subtle and natural offering, the live smelt.  This one-two punch worked on a few different occasions Sunday, but the first time I won't soon forget. 

When a lake trout struck my smelt in 55 feet of water, I set the hook and connected on what felt like an ordinary fish. However, as I horsed it off bottom, my rod tip doubled over and it was apparent this was something heavy. I called over the boys to clear the hole of ice and help grab the fish when it was ready. I had a great feeling for a couple minutes until I looked over to my jigging rod in the other hole and noticed its bail open and line peeling out. This 22-inch fish wrapped itself around my other line and gave the appearance and feeling of a 10-pound trout. Talk about a let down! I went from thinking I had a tournament-winning fish on to learning my lesson of not having both lines down at the same time so close together.  At least we were catching, right?

The 22-inch "10-pound" lake trout and a light jigging rod next to it

A close up of the gold willow leaf hook in the laker's mouth

In the three hours that followed I witnessed my most active period of lake trout activity yet. All four of us were marking targets and getting them to chase. A few different jigs were garnering interest and even our baited tip-ups received a little play. One of my filleted five-inch suckers lying on bottom was picked up and dropped after a 20 yard run as I was busy dealing with a fish on the jigging rod.  Wayne landed another fish on a trap that took a live smelt in about 60-feet of water. Both Roy and Wayne jigged up togue using bucktails tipped with smelt. I also experimented and had success with Gulp smelt, soft-plastic minnows soaked in a stinky concoction. All the fish were in that same lower 20-inch size class, but it was consistent action and loads of fun. If the lake had more ice, we could have ventured to deeper water or to a spot better known for bigger lake trout, though we were glad just to be on Sebago at all. The chance for a trophy is ever present there no matter where you are on the lake. 

The morning bite slowly tapered off around lunch time and eventually the flags and fish finders shut down completely. Another form of entertainment picked up, however, in the form of a family of four bald eagles eating leftover baitfsh on the ice. Two adults and two sub-adults were hanging around us for a while calling to one another and keeping watch for easy meals. Seeing the national bird is a sight that will always stop me in my tracks as it did that day; just awe-inspiring animals, I only wish I had a zoom lens for my camera!

With the four-plus hour drive home looming and work coming early on Monday, it was time to pack up and say goodbye to Sebago and good friends once again. I'm so glad I pulled the trigger on this final ice trip of the season. If nothing else it leaves me with another positive memory of the weakest year of ice fishing that I've ever known. As always, it was great to see Wayne, Roy and Sean. The two days on the ice left us with valuable experience. The crew gained important confidence in a few jigs, baits and techniques. We learned a part of the lake we had never been before. We toughed out some horrible conditions and were rewarded with a banner morning because of it.  The most important thing was that we had a hell of a weekend and are already looking forward to next year. Now it it's up to Old Man Winter to hold up his end bargain and have all of Sebago Lake frozen and fishable next year!

The 2012 Sebago crew (beard mandatory)

The ice sled in all her glory

Happy trails!