The Magic Phone

The weekend of Dad's birthday came with another opportunity to get on the ice and hopefully find some of these fabled walleyes everyone gets in a tizzy about. Dad came up Thursday night as a basketball tournament in Aberdeen filled every hotel in a 100 mile radius. Friday morning we did some chores and finished what work we needed to for the week. We would enjoy ourselves far more if our ducks were in a row before we went fishing.

About noon we finally pulled it and headed out to Indian. I have been able to find a few walleyes out there and was hoping to put Dad on one in the next day or two. I of course set up mostly for pike, but with two guys we were able to spread things out quite nicely. I scouted out a spot earlier in the year and had a good vibe about it for this trip. I'm not going to say my vibe was worthless, but the fishing was slow. We picked up a few pike on one set rod, but other than that we had not tripped anything else for the better part of two hours. 

Dad was on the phone with a client, and I was on the phone with Nick when I told him when would likely move. At that moment I look over and see my jawjacker rod doubling over. I motioned for Dad, but he was not able to get away from this call. I hauled over and grabbed the rod. I knew it was a waldo before I even grabbed it. I looked down the hole and saw a DANDY walleye coming up the hole. Because of my facemask, I was still on the phone with Nick as I pulled out our first walleye of the day!

We sat and discussed our options again as there just did not seem to be anything spectacular happening at this spot besides the one good waldo. I drilled a dozen more holes and we tried to branch out a little further yet but this did not seem to improve anything either. 

Again, Dad's phone rang and a client call ensued. This is the greatest calling card to getting a bite. Almost as good as taking a pee, or getting a sandwich. Of course, up tips another set rod. I motion to Dad again, but he waves me off. It was my turn but again I knew this was a walleye and I wanted Dad to take it. With no time to spare I ran up to the rod and watched as the line slowly spooled off the reel. I closed the bail, and set the hook.... This was a heavier fish than the last one, and even in shallow water, it took me a few minutes before I even got a look at it. At this point Dad hung up on the call and was at the hole with me. The first flash of gold proved another slob waldo. As I slowly guided her up the hole, we both reached for her as we didn't want this one getting away. 

I had a little bit of guilt that I brought Dad out here to fish, and he was busy on the phone every time a rod went off. I knew if I could buy us a little more time with the Mrs., we would still be able to get Dad on a waldo. As our daylight was starting to fade, and we were starting to think more about food and less about fish, the set rod went off once again. This time it was Dad's chance at a waldo. As he set the hook it was no doubt that it was another nice walleye! With some fair playing, Dad got her to the hole, and we pulled up a fatty.

This was what we were both hoping for to end our day on the ice. It just couldn't get better. Dad's phone is like some magical portal into the minds of the fish that know he is preoccupied. As I began collecting lines, Dad called back the client from earlier, and wouldn't you have it, the pike rod in shallow tipped over. 

Magic.

Phone.

After slipping this slimer back in, it was time to pack it up and call it a day. We were exhausted from bucking the wind all day and were starving. In a stumbling stupor, we managed to make some pan-fried fresh walleye. It was mere minutes after eating we went to bed. Tomorrow is another day, and Paul and Adam were to join in on the fun.

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Bird is the Word

While I as out fishing Friday evening, my uncle had already planned the trip up for the weekend. There was a chance of others joining but that fizzled out, so it left Paul and I running and gunning for walleye. When he arrived in the morning, we headed up to Cottonwood on a whim. Even though I found fish on Indian, Cottonwood has treated us well in the past.

We fished for the better part of a two hours with only three very tiny pike to show for it. This was not working and we knew it was time to pull the plug. We stopped by the house on the way home for only the deadbait, and then blasted back out to Indian. Not only was there someone in the holy-grail spot, it was three permi-shacks. I wanted to say I was surprised, but out here, nothing surprises me anymore. These locals are sharks.

Paul said screw it, we will just fish close. I never like that mentality, but this seemed to be the only spot on the lake that the walleyes were biting, so we drove the snowmobile right up to the point, not 60 yards from them. As I augered holes, I could smell the beer and the smoker running on the ice. These were a bunch of frat guys out for an evening party. To each their own I guess, but I wasn't about to join them.....

As is usually the case in this spot, it didn't take me long to find a fish. A respectable waldo into the bucket. Of course, it took a long time after that.

As we hole-hopped trying to find a fish, I was watching Paul set up near the snowmobile. He postured up, jigged a little, and lit into a nice fish. Once he set the hook, drag started peeling out. Pike, and a good one by the looks of it. Run after run, we could not get the thing to come to the hole. We had seen it three of four times before finally guiding it up from the icy depths. As I guided it up, the hook caught on the ice and I knew if I didn't grab the fish immediately, she would thrash and be gone. I dropped my gloves, and dipped in, pulling up an outstanding 36 incher. Not the waldo Paul was looking for, but a blast on light tackle!!

As the evening progressed, our success did not. I drilled a few more holes the opposite direction of the frat party, and I even managed to catch a waldo. It was no bigger than a hotdog (seriously). I motioned for Paul to grab his stuff and come on over. We jigged in this spot for fifteen minutes or so when I felt a disturbance in the force. I looked up to faintly see my jawjacker flexing next to the snowmobile. It was obscured by the gear, but I felt the hair on my neck stand up. I jumped up and ran over as fast as I could. The longer it takes the great chance of the fish getting off. When I grabbed the rod, the fish was still there, and it was a decent one to boot. I looked down the hole to see a pretty nice walleye working his way through the hole. Up he came and a 23 inch waldo to finish off our evening!!!

Paul razzed me later about pulling him across the point as he was literally sitting next to the jacker before I pulled him away. Oh well....


Shortly before dark, we pulled the plug and headed home. Pan fried walleye was calling our names!






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Where's Waldos?

Another week, another chance to find fish. Now that I am over the flu, I have new lease on life, and a frantic need to fish as much as humanly possible before April. I have spent a few evenings out chasing dreams, and have come up with fish a few times. As the last week proved decent between the pinch on the bay, I figured I would head right back there. Stopping into the baitshop, it seems that someone else had figured out this spot and slammed them in the morning. I knew this was not good and I needed to get out there.

I set up a little off of the guys holes from the morning, but I was unable to find a fish. I finally decided I should try jigging in one of those holes as nothing else was working.

I forgot all of my tackle...

Because of my infinite laziness, there was a rattle jig stuffed into a small hole in my vexilar; this was all I would need.

It didn't take me five minutes and I had a walleye flopping on the ice. After icing my second, a white truck pulled up next to me and the guy got out of his truck.

This was the guy from this morning. He went on this sob story that he was the one that discovered this spot and he hammered them here this morning. Being public water, he could drill more holes close to me, but I wasn't budging. He tried to convince me to move a few times but I wasn't buying into, plus I take issue with the fact that he was back out here in the afternoon after catching his limit this morning. No worries, Officer Kyle is privy to the guy...

As climbed back into his truck and was peeling out of there, I pulled in another nice walleye. I kept waiting for one of my tippers or even the jacker to go off, but nothing was happening other than the fish I was catching jigging. As the sun was getting lower and lower I was really starting to feel the cold, but I managed my largest for my limit of ice walleyes. With a full bucket, I fished for another 45 minutes, merely to prevent the hoards of people coming onto the lake from taking the spot. I caught nine total before finally calling it as the cold was starting to hurt.

Walleyes have proven difficult for me, especially in the winter months, but I knew it was a matter of statistics before I stumbled onto a school. Now if I could only do the same with another giant pike...



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Striking Gold

Through the course of the winter, I fished with our local CO, Kyle. He has taken me out to few of his hot spots, and we have found a few decent fish, and had a few dud days. One opportunity came in the form of an un-named slough in the middle of nowhere. I still have no idea where it is.

I rode with him and we drove right out to the spot he fished the day before. It didn't take but a few minutes and we had lines going off. My new rod boards proved themselves right away with a nice 12 inch perch. A stud anywhere, this was the medium class for the body of water. Soon after, Kyle hooked into a slammer that went a little over 13.5". These were HUGE perch. Through the course of the morning we manage a half dozen or so each. Kyle managed his best rod and reel waldo about 11am.

While jigging the hot hole from earlier, I hooked into what we both thought was another decent walleye, and instead when I got her to the hole, it was a MONSTER perch. At 14.75", this was my largest perch to date! This perch was so big it didn't even look real. I knew the second she came through the hole, this fish was going on the wall.

We fished until early afternoon, and Kyle called it a day as he had some work he needed to do in town before the end of the day.


After fishing with Kyle, I of course headed back out to Indian for the evening bite. I did not catch any pike, and I lost seven or eight walleye on the jawjacker before finally playing one in. At 19.75, this was a perfect slot fish to end an already stellar day on the ice!


(The next day I got the flu: Karma's a heartless bitch).



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Short Lived Hot Streak

I have branched out a fair amount this year in search of other fish, but at the end of January I found out my fish that were at the taxidermist were lost in a fire. As shitty as it was, I felt worse for the taxidermist. He lost everything, I lost one fish. I figured this was fuel enough to get back on the horse and chase big gators again. I have since just short of lived on Indian. I have had many quiet days, but I had a couple days of a hot streak and managed a dozen or so fish in the mid 30s range.

I informed Dad of the hot streak and told him to get up here as quick as possible before it slips away. The hot streak was gone as quick as it came. When Dad came up the mercury plummeted, and so did my bite. Dad managed a smaller pike early on and that gave us hope, but the day was slipping away without any other action.

Because of the cold, it was brutal fishing, and with Rachel home alone, it was only fitting that we pulled the plug and head home. As Dad went out for his final pee, a lone flag went up. It was the flag that was frozen so it wouldn't spin, and the bait was a congealed mess of smelt goop. As I ran up to the tipper, it was bouncing in the hole. When I grabbed it, all I got was dead weight; this was a good fish. The first look in the bottom of the hole was that of a giant head. This was BIG, and it was going to be close to my next 40. As I pulled her up through the hole, both Dad and I knew it was going to be by the hair of my teeth one way or the other. At 39 inches, she was short, but a stout fish nonetheless!!!

I got her back into the water after measurement and before pics because it was so cold, her fin tips were already frozen. We took a few quick pics and slipped her back into the lake to grow and be someone else's 40 someday.

And just like that, the fishing died again. I fished three or four days with nothing spectacular to show for it. I tried different spots and different lakes.

I did manage one 34 incher back on Indian at the buzzer one evening.

It's only a matter of time before we find fish again.



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Slow Fishing with the Goons

As this ice season has progressed, the slow bite continues to be the trend. When Nick, Lisa, Sawyer, and Ethan came up for a weekend visit, we tried our best as usual to get on something. The weather was far from cooperative to begin, and the fish followed suit.

We started our outing on Cottonwood, which turned into a debacle from the get-go. We managed to break a rod on Paul's giant thermal tent, the auger kept rattling itself apart, and we only managed one dinker pike in three hours time. There was no vibe, and frankly we were frustrated already.

We made lunch and hung out at the house for a bit before regrouping and deciding to give Indian a try. We trekked out onto Indian and planted ourselves off of the the point I have caught so many fish. The auger was giving us fits again, and we even managed to suck one of the nuts into the piston... Ethan's mechanical inclination and Nick's ingenuity paired for an entertaining afternoon. They were able to extract the nut, and get the thing back in semi-working order.


Despite all of the trouble our karma was still in the red and the fishing was still super slow, but Ethan managed to smack a nice pike on his ultralight. Playing it cool as he always does, we were not skunked!!!

We fished until dark with nary another bite. I did manage to see a MONSTER waldo down my hole in the crystal clear water, but nothing was going to cooperate.

Back home we enjoyed the company of the ladies and a chubby Sawyer. That kid is already a hoot! this trip was going to be a little less about the fish and a little more about not bailing on the ladies and baby. It was great to hang out and chill for an evening. We don't get to do this that often, so we made the most of our time.

Sunday was another opportunity to find ourselves a fish. With some significant auger issues the day before, Adam came up and bailed us out with some of his equipment. We settled on a new spot, I hooked a nice pike and lost it, and the thundering hoards closed in on us (we would later find out all of the walleyes caught in the tournament that day were right where we started).

With help from Adam we pulled the plug and headed to the abyss. Nothing else was working so we figured we had nothing to lose.

Not. A. Fish.

We headed back to our point, and actually set up on a rock pile Adam knew about. It didn't seem to matter. The fish were not biting. We ended up pulling the plug on the day without a fish. I HATE getting skunked, especially with company. I have had some unbelievable fishing expeditions with these two guys, it was only a matter of time before we had a slow day.

That pike Ethan caught ended up being the only fish of the weekend. As disappointed as we were with the fishing, we made up for it with good company. We don't get to fish together very often and I always enjoy getting to fish with others. Hopefully we can get together again with the snow melts.



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