Last Ice Trip of '18 with Lou

I couldn't help but take a hookie day for one last chance at icing a good pike. Yes, it was a Thursday, but the weather was absolutely spectacular, and Kyle had finally found his 40 and pointed me to the spot. I got there with reasonable time in the late morning, and decided this trip would be a great opportunity to blow off some steam for the Lou-pup. I dragged my sled out while Lou ran in circles watching the immense amount of geese on the lake. There were groups of Canadas everywhere, but there were THOUSANDS of snow geese and more piling in by the minute.

I busted open some of Kyle's holes and augered out some extras in different spots for myself. I set up my rods and waited for something to happen. This is where I would normally stew in my own thoughts, or come up with a grand scheme to rule the world. Instead, I was able to hang out with my pup. She was a kid in a candy store. There were geese to watch, lake water to drink, and an occasion minnow to sneak behind my back. I brought this pink kong ball we have that is super heavy out with me and heaved it as far as I could out into the middle of the lake. It would hit the ice, and bounce and roll for an easy additional 50 yards. I figured if this didn't wear her out, it would kill her. This spot was slower than I expected and I managed only one medium pike before noon. I did some rearranging and drilled some new holes and played the waiting game again. It was about two in the afternoon when the flags really starting picking up. I would throw, and run to the tipper. Lou got smart to the game and when she was finally starting to wear down, I would see a flag go up and start running. Lou would run around looking for the up flag and she would run as fast as she could out ahead of me to the tipper, where she would sit down next to it and wait for me to catch up. I would play the fish out and Lou of course would grab the tail when I pulled it out of the hole. She is so quick to pick stuff up it amazes me. Rachel thought it was going to be nightmare with hooks and line, but Lou listened well, and quick frankly made my day.

As the afternoon wore on, Lou and I were doing quite well for ourselves. We managed a number of decent pike, nothing huge, but all over 30". My arms was getting sore from all of the throwing, and I could see Lou was slowing down significantly. We were in a bit of a lull and I figured she was getting cold so I pulled out my stool and sat and watched flags and geese. Lou walked right up to me and asked to sit in my lap. For any dog owner you know what I mean when I say asked. She sat in my lap on and off for the final two hours between flags.

Though I did not manage another 40 incher, this was a wonderful day on the lake. I have always enjoyed ice fishing, but this late, season-transition ice fishing is by far my favorite. It's warm and sunny, there are geese and ducks everywhere, and I still get to ice fish. This was a great cap to a weird ice season. We caught some dandy fish, and we went home skunked far more than anticipated.

I am sure I could get on the ice now if I wanted, but baby Livermore continues his reign of terror in utero. Rachel and I spent the latter part of Friday the 23rd and the better part of Saturday the 24th in the hospital monitoring her blood pressure. It has been a bit of an issue thus far, and we are teetering on the tipping point with it. We were released and are hoping this little boy will cook just one more week....


Stay Tuned: shit's about to get real....

The Lake of Many Moods

After a slow, but productive afternoon on the ice, we still had the weekend ahead of us. With the storm fizzling out, Paul and Adam we going to join us back out on the lake. The night before, Kyle texted and asked if he could join us. The more the merrier!

We started Saturday on a different spot as I had a better vibe and knew the spot a little better. Boy was I wrong...

We spent the better part of two hours there with little to show for it. Kyle was running late, but the second he showed up we had two flag go. Being Dad's birthday, I decided I would be nice and let him take it. When he set the hook, it took off an a good run and we knew we had a better fish. As we got it into the hole we looked over to see another flag up. As soon as she was flopping on the ice, Kyle and I hauled over to it....Swing and a miss.... Dad got his unhooked and measured at a respectable 32".

I ended up missing two more flags on this spot before we decided this was just not working out. Kyle caught a few on his tippers but nothing to write home about. The decision was made to go back to where we were fishing yesterday before Paul and Adam got here. We made the quick transition and started busting up holes and Kyle drilled a bunch more for himself. I tried redrilling one of the holes and in one quick touch of the throttle, I snapped the bolt holding auger onto the powerhead....

Damn.

I had Kyle tap me a few extra holes and we rigged back up. Shortly after getting set up, Paul and Adam came around the corner on their snowmobile. In true Paul fashion, two holes were drilled right where they stopped. We managed a few more pike this time in this spot, but again, there was nothing really over the top. Despite the lack of quantity, the company was exemplary.

Things were starting to look dim for our chance at a waldo when one of Kyle's tippers went off. He had only deadbait for pike on all of his tippers so it came as a great surprise to all of us when he pulled up a STOUT walleye on one of his dead smelt.

Things were starting to pick up a bit and there were mini flurries on our tippers. Kyle found what we thought was going to be a giant pike, ended up being a super fat 33".

We fished until almost 7pm before we decided to finally pull the plug. I was a little perplexed as to why we did not find more fish. As Adam has indicated, this lake is probably the most frustrating lake ever. Hot one day, dead the next.

We proved that theory by fishing again Sunday morning and didn't so much as get a bite. It was the dead sea...


As spring approaches, so does the unpredictable weather, and the waning chances to get on ice. We also have baby Livermore getting sick of the lack of leg room.


Stay Tuned

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.

Stay Tuned 

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!






 Stay Tuned 

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...



Stay Tuned

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).



Stay Tuned

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.



Stay Tuned