Old Fashioned Winter

It's been a cold winter and I squeezed as much out of it as possible. I fished through ice on 10 different days, in four different months, on six different waterbodies, with a bunch of different people, targeting a number of different species. There is still more than foot of ice on certain lakes and ponds in Connecticut, yet my season is over. And it will go down as one of the most memorable of my life. 

There were lots of highlights, but one that rises to the top was ice fishing with my uncle again after nearly eight years. I will always owe him a debt of gratitude for getting me hooked on hardwater. It came full circle this winter, with both of us witnessing each other's best ever trout through the ice. Those memories will forever be etched in my brain. 

Bringing my girls out three times this season was another high point. It felt a bit forced one 13° morning, while doing sock changes in our shelter in front of a Mr. Heater. They fought through it and earned the chance to see the biggest bass any of us had ever experienced through the ice. A couple of weeks later, we had a kids day in tee-shirt weather, chasing flags on a favorite pond, eating hot dogs and grilled cheeses. Those trips will always stay with me. 

It seems to be the new norm that ice fishing seasons like this one are few and far between. Some years I don't get to walk on my favorite deep-water lakes, or get to fish with my favorite people on earth. That's why winters like these become chiseled into our memory, and keep a fire lit until we're fortunate to live through another one. 

Re-Cover

The number of false alarms was starting to remind me of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. The flag on one of my Heritage Lakers kept going up with nothing to show for it. There was zero wind to speak of that day, and my bait was the large and dead variety. Something was messing with me. Still, sooner or later, I just knew I was going to walk up to a spinning spool. I made a small adjustment by lowering the bait, laying it directly on the silty bottom. The next flag was the one. It turned out to be the largest northern pike I had ever landed, through the ice or otherwise. 

That series of events took place one mild afternoon in January 2017. Fast forward eight years and a photograph of me releasing the fish, taken by Aaron Swanson, now graces the cover of The Fisherman magazine. The new cover of an old catch has been a fun walk down memory lane. It's good timing, too, considering the Northeast is finally experiencing a winter like the old days. Unlike the last two years, there is no shortage of ice fishing opportunities. I'm trying to get out as much as I can, revisiting old haunts and even getting my girls on the ice with me. If not now, when? 

Tight lines and stay safe out there!