Ice Fishing 2013 - 2014 Summary

This pike from several years ago re-invigorated my interest in local ice fishing, and provided some fodder for continued faith in Reeds Lake.

*****

I’m usually pretty careful about capturing and recording the specifics of each trip in my fishing log, but this Ice Season past, I pretty much did the same thing, each time out.  Ice fishing has become, for me in these last few years, all about setting tip-ups for the available, local in-season predators; and that pretty much means “pike” around here.  So, lacking the motivation to specifically chronicle each trip, but still wanting to acknowledge that I had a pretty pleasant and somewhat productive season, here’s a general summary of my ice fishing experiences over the last few months.

Winter 2013-2014 was likely one to be remembered for a generation or more.  Recent winters have been sporadically intense, but lacking stamina.  We typically experienced (enjoyed?) breaks in the harshness every few weeks.  This wreaked havoc on ice conditions, and generally limited access to safe ice for any extended/predictable period.  This year, The Cold set in around the end of November and still has barely relented.  The Cold has been accompanied locally by near-record amounts of snow.    I’ve literally gone months without seeing my grass or driveway surface; and even our road has been ice-covered for weeks at a time. 

Ice conditions were looking good to me around Christmas.  While others were sporadically fishing before Thanksgiving on select waters, and under certain circumstances; the waters I prefer are deeper and slower to form safe ice.  I’m also pretty conservative about considering ice “safe”, and so I probably missed out on a couple of very early ice opportunities.  Just as ice fishing became personally feasible, we had a quick thaw.  I thought we were in again for another on/off season when Winter really settled in, seemingly permanently.  So we ended up on the ice before New Year’s Day, and folks are still out there on the same ice today!

Our early sessions were characterized by tons of flags, but fewer hook-ups and even fewer legal fish.   It’s fun to get a dozen or more flags in a session, but it’s also fun to catch some worthwhile fish!  I worked pretty hard at covering water, finding hot holes and so forth, but on any given day, any particular hole, whether in 6 feet of water or 30, could be the producer.    Our pike topped out at only 28 inches or so, and most were 20 to 23 inches.  These were released with care, hopefully to continue to grow into the next few years’ target. 

Kelly with our first "keeper" of the ice season.

I rig my tip-ups pretty minimally, and I prefer bigger baits.  Maybe lots of our flags were due to sub-20 inch fish.

I couldn’t help but notice that Kelly, with his single hook straight to mono, got more flags with his traps than I typically got with mine.  I typically rig for pike with fine wire and a double-hook quick-strike rig.  I know I have a better hooking percentage and lower break-off percentage than my primary ice partner, but I also recognize you need to get bit!  So maybe next year, I’ll work some more fluoro rigs into the mix.  They used to work when we were fishing for Muskegon Lake walleyes!

One day we had perfect conditions for hoofing it across the lake to a prime structure.  Given the lack of quality fish and fishing pressure at our early ice location, we chose to try this more remote spot one Sunday morning.  Kelly was a few minutes ahead of me that morning, and I could see him across the lake, setting traps as I collected my gear for the 15-minute walk across the ice.  As I walked across the access point, I was joined by a couple of other fellows.  I hustled it across to Kelly and we discussed what he was seeing with his graph, as I thought about complementing his three traps with mine.  Just as I finished drilling my first hole (which turned out to be The Spot for the day, in 12 feet of water right along a prime break from a feeding shelf into the main lake basin and  30 or more feet of water), my fellow companions caught up to me and started setting up shop.  Uncomfortably close, too, in my opinion.  As it turned out, they were pan-fishing and we didn’t really compete for fish on this day; but I’m still baffled in their comfort in setting up so close to us.

Our reward for the day was lots of action and a few legal pike, but none of the local lunkers to which I’m accustomed to catching here in the open water aboard Numenon.   But we captured The Spot on Kelly’s new sonar/gps unit, and we’ll be back.

I was alone for my next trip (MLK Jr. Day is an odd holiday to have in the working world), and I chose to hoof it even farther across the lake to an even lunkier spot.  My reward that day?  No fish action whatsoever, but I did get to spend a nice day outside, and I did watch our local bald eagle for a while.   The eagle disappeared from our area soon thereafter, pushed farther south,  and I’d like to think that my lack of action was because a giant pike was sulking in the vicinity.  I liked being alone, and this spot has enough history with me to keep me enthusiastically engaged for a few more sessions.  I’ll undoubtedly risk some more slow fishing here in the future for the possible reward of a nice, big pike through the ice.

Fish like this gator are known to live nearby.

A couple of weekends later I spent a day and a half with Kelly and his family at his in-laws’ home on the banks of a chain of lakes in Newaygo County.  A near-blizzard on Friday made the weekend uncertain, but by noon on Saturday we were both up there, with several dozen baits and our limit of tip-ups set.  With well over a foot of snow on the ice, extremely low temps and strong winds, conditions were pretty brutal; but made tolerable through the use of the house’s boat house as a shelter, a fire pit, a portable propane heater, fine outdoor clothing and a good attitude.  Home-made chili, a couple of beers and a picture window through which to watch for flags during meals sure helped, too.  Both dinner and breakfast were interrupted by a flurry of flags; that was simply fun.   Again, the yield for a couple of dozen flags was only a few legal pike.  All were returned safely to the water.

At this point in the season, my attention turned to Florida.  Kelly took a 31-incher through the ice while I was in Florida, and that will have to be the Ice Fish of the Year; but honestly, it’s tough to get overly excited about ice fishing (except for the pleasant company and experiences I hope I’ve outline here) when something like my recent Florida experience is in play.

Not a bad alternative to ice fishing...

This was supposed to be the year I got serious about ice fishing again and equip myself with a new sonar/gps for the ice.  I haven’t been quite able to pull that trigger (my C-bucks have been going towards other gear), but we’ll see how the new Humminbird SI works out on Numenon.  I can always get one next year, or convert my displaced Lowrance unit into an ice machine. 

So, I think I’m ready to put this ice season behind; but I’m by no means ready for the season to come.  There are so many things to address.  New sonar installation!  Fresh line!  Worm supplies!  Mack’s Smiley Blades for coho and walleyes!  Muskie spreads!  While I’m addressing these open-water issues, I’ll ponder this assessment; ice fishing this season was a pleasant, healthy winter diversion.  I ice fish with friends, and we shared many laughs.  While the fish I encountered weren’t necessarily all that exciting, each flag represents the upper bound of potential for the lake I’m fishing.  That unrealized potential is my companion every time I set a trap, and I still feel a rush of greatness with every waving flag.  I really am an optimist!

This flag could mean anything's at the end of the line.  I choose to think it's a Monster Pike!

Florida 2014 - Elaboration!

OK, so the trip is complete and things are getting back to normal.  Am I ever thankful that we chose to do this trip.  All involved needed a break from our relentless schedules and from this relentless winter!  We all had our own versions of fun and relaxation, and once again, we were blessed with good fortune during our travels.  Other than occasionally low blood sugar (by which I mean my temporary crankiness), nothing bad happened!   And I came back to work tired, but "good" tired; I was restored and ready to get back at it.

Let me just state first that I feel like I earned this trip through my extra efforts at C's.  This was a tangible benefit from all those hours, and while it was largely a direct fishing benefit, I am super pleased to have shared it with family, because I know that those hours away at the store, are in part, hours away from them.  Hours when I could be helping them, or simply enjoying their company.  They earned this trip, too.  Things earned are inherently better.

 And while I previously posited this trip as my Graduate School of Fishing, I could back off that position and just accept it as continued experience; but I might not.  I do feel as if I have graduated; my knots all held, my boating skills were right there, my intuition and equipment preparations  were in support of success.  I was ready for this trip, and I'm ready for more.  Finally, it legitimizes my position and role at C's as a truly experienced, multi-species, any kind of water fisherman.  Empirically, I can say that I've been involved in the selection of a bunch of bait-runner reels since I came back!

Now Steve Jobs of Apple fame (and others, I'm sure) has explained previously, the more experiences you've had, the more ideas you have to draw from in life; and this catalyzes your creativity.  I brought my past experiences with me, and these, no doubt, contributed to the trip.  But what new techniques have I gained?  New ways of making bait, comfort and confidence in using wire, faster and faster speed trolling, recognizing conditions and adjusting on the fly, preparing for multiple species and tactics with a minimal selection of tackle on hand, subduing large and toothy creatures; even if these weren't completely new to me, I got to practice and expand this week, and I've no doubt that these experiences will improve my local experiences.  Maybe I'll be a little more creative in my approaches, especially on unknown waters or during tough conditions.  Anchored on sound technique, but cross-pollinated with different notions of what might work, I hope to retain Medici’s Elephant  as a companion in my boat, wherever I might be, or whatever I might be fishing for.

Here are some "accomplishments" from the trip:

Can I acknowledge that feeling of fulfillment when I had my Day 1 Blue-Water Realization; that even though the fishing was pretty slow (in fact, probably the slowest of the week; it was too clear, too calm, too still, too full-moony or something), I was super relieved and privileged to be out there, doing it!  There's something about that blue/purple water, the sargassum, the flying fish and the potential of any moment out there that puts me at ease.  But at ease in an excited, focused (content?) manner.  And while I didn't get out past the reef again during the trip, I had the same sense of peaceful bliss several times during the trip, whether I was simply making bait at sun-rise, watching birds and ballyhoo showers in shallow, trolling in the green water, or anchored on the Gulf side.  It's a nice feeling to capture, but even nicer to know I can capture it in multiple settings, and that the feeling can be generalized, as opposed to tied to a specific, idealized set of circumstances.

·    

·    I did catch my Biggest Sharks ever, including my single Biggest Fish ever.  That's always a nice bonus for a fishing trip.  And while I did leader/Palm Beach Release an approximate 8-foot Bull Shark, the single most challenging fish landed was a Reef Shark of about half the length.  While the big bull probably didn't realize it was hooked before it was within reach (at which time it showed me who was in charge), the Reef Shark fought with alternating speed and determination; and this hooked fish was the best match for my tackle for the entire trip.

As an aside, which is more important?  A large fish that is subdued and photographed?  Or a gigantic, once-a-half-century beast, that while officially "caught", was never defeated, and which left without a trace?  The polls are split, as are my feelings.  Maybe it's PTSD, or the simple Shock and Awe of the Bull; but "catching" this fish has left me with an empty feeling.  I'm proud to have been there, and it was an exhilarating experience, but I know I'd have not stood a chance with that fish in the shallows on an anchored boat, alone, with that tackle; except for the fact that it was feeding and cruising with such supreme confidence that it had no reason to react to my presence, or to my feeble pressure.  

The trip also featured a bunch of Firsts!  These are always fun to recognize.  So (in order of appearance), here's to my first ever Ballyhoo!  Cero Mackerel!  Atlantic Sharpnose Shark! Leatherjack!  Bermuda Chub!  Bonnet Head Shark!  Spanish Mackerel!  Pin-fish!  Caribbean Reef Shark!  Mangrove Snapper!  Bull Shark!  and a crazy, unidentifiable wrasse of some sort!

First encounter with ballyhoo.

First ever Cero Mackerel ate a live-lined ballyhoo.

First of many Spanish Mackerel.

·    For Best Fishing Experience, I'll nominate the first nice Spanish Mack that I caught near Marker 16 on a free-lined shrimp.  After catching a pile of baitfish, snappers and remoras here, with Spanish visibly in the slick and an occasional jig snipped off with ease; something clicked for me and I wound down on a fish at exactly the right moment.  I felt the hook set and hold in the mackerel's mouth, the fish's sudden awakening, and then found out my drag was set perfectly for the run of a Spanish of this size.  Just when I was starting to get a little concerned about stopping the fish, it voluntarily turned; and it was soon brought aboard.  The Spanish and I then entered a communal groove, because for a while they were biting, and I was hooking. 

Lip hooked, light line, fast fish!

·     My Most Heart-breaking Moments involved anchoring.  The only real problems I had all week involved the anchors.  One was lost, and I couldn't get the other to stick.  It was a sickening feeling to release a fish only to realize I was drifting in very shallow water.  It was equally frustrating to not get the replacement anchor to hold.  Nothing really bad happened either time, so I can't be too upset, but each incident cost me some fishing time and opportunity.  These are the sorts of things I try to minimize on the water; I'll do better next time.

·     My Most Heart-Warming Moment was, in a general sense, simply sharing the last day with A and M.  But when M announced it to be her "best fishing day ever", even though all had not gone exactly as I had planned or wished, I was super pleased.

Other highlights of the trip included my Developed Taste for Flexibility and Fishing with Mom.  Of course by "Mom", I mean both her and her guest, Father J.  Both of these factors emphasized to me, once again, that the benefit is in the process, not necessarily in the results.  I could go out there with a plan; but that plan was likely to prove worthless.  The planning involved in their development, however, proved itself indispensable.  Anyway, conditions and non-fishing guests with fishing aspirations pushed my envelope a bit; and so I experienced success in big seas with crank-baits, and all by myself, way out by Marker 16.

..   These were techniques and approaches that I hadn't really thought about until I confronted the real conditions I was facing.  These successful experiences necessarily replaced the scenarios that I had dreamed about.  So I didn't get to work on my blue water trolling, speed jigging, sail-fishing, or gaffing skills; that's OK, I was productively busy.  Maybe the conditions will be more amenable for these dreams next time.  Or maybe I should expect less from my dreams, but more from my actions.

So, what’s my current perspective?  Do I want more?  Is the work worthwhile?  I'm currently reminded that “It ain’t about the salary, it’s about reality!”  However many hours went into this trip; I've gotten back several times over, especially if I include all the enthusiasm and fun I've had, not only through Participation!, but also during the Anticipation! and Elaboration! phases of the trip.  I've no doubt that this (by which I mean the trip; but also working for it and sharing it) was all a good thing for me.  

*****

And then of course there is that patience-with-others- (whom-I-love-most) thing I mentioned in the last post.  I disappointed myself a couple of times with a short fuse in inconsequential situations.  I know I should know better, and they deserve better.  What can I do to work on that?  Well, acknowledgment first; I recognize this as an area for continued improvement.  With that awareness, I can choose to do better.  I plan to do so; and I commit myself to that plan.  Because other than these couple of isolated moments (and the relentless wind), it was a pretty darn perfect week.  How often do you get to say that?

Florida 2014 Participation! II

A continuation of my summary of our week in Marathon, Florida...

Wednesday "Altar Ego II" or "Adrift"

Unfortunately, the wind continued and intensified.  Some white water was washing over my aptly-named shoal area, but there was a fair amount of action making bait.   When I landed a nice bonnethead shark of about 3 feet, which provided a single run followed by a dogged, if unspectacular fight, I thought maybe my luck had turned for the better.   But as I completed my photo session with her, I noticed the angle of the boat had changed relative to the seas; and then I realized I was adrift.  At first I thought the anchor had simply lost its hold, but in fact I had lost the anchor. I was unable to determine whether the splice had untied or if the line had sawn through on rough bottom, but it was simply too rough to stay; and while Father J had not shown himself on time to make bait, I got the call that he was interested in going fishing again. And, on the way in I was fortunate enough to see the only manatee of the trip within a few hundred feet of our house.

My first ever Bonnethead Shark ate a free-lined live ballyhoo in the morning.

Shortly thereafter I returned to the Atlantic side with Father J and Mom for some high speed (to me) trolling. I explained that we were "Going Big" and that we might get skunked; but that we had a legitimate shot at some mackerel; and if we found some Kings, they could get up to 60 pounds.  It was too rough to go outside Hawk's Channel, but by concentrating on the edges we pretty quickly went 2 for 2 on nice Spanish Macks.   It's pretty cool when the rod goes at 5 mph; the macks would provide  a screaming run before coming to the boat pretty compliantly.  Each hit a Rapala X-Rap 15 bonito  trolled on my Shimano Cardiff with 50-pound braid on a planer board rod along the 30-foot edge.  After an hour or more of "nothing" else happening, we tried drifting and power trolling live ballyhoo around edges and shoals, but (surprisingly) to no avail.

Father J tightens up on our first trolling fish...

...a Hawk's Channel Spanish Mackerel.  Another first!

This Spanish hit a Rapala X-Rap 15 trolled at about 5 mph.

More choppers!

Seas continued to build, and so we returned to get a new anchor and totally reset for the next day.  I knew it was simply too rough for me to fish on the Atlantic side alone. I needed to formulate a game plan on the Gulf side, and I knew I had to get away from the bridge.

I saw a pod of dolphins working a school of mullet in Boot Key Harbor on my way to get $100 of gas. That was pretty cool.  And upon my return, we all enjoyed a very nice family dinner at a fine local restaurant.


Thursday  "Sweet 16" or "Marathon Marathon"

Red 16 Marker

I had chosen Marathon as a destination in part because of the diverse fisheries and the opportunities it afforded to fish safely/comfortably in most conditions.  At this point of the trip, I'd rather have been building on experience than seeking new venues; but with the continued wind, I knew I shouldn't continue to fight it, but rather embrace the bay-side opportunities.  Although I'm more interested in, and comfortable with, the Atlantic side, even I realize I can only beat myself up so much. Plus, I had to admit  real safety concerns about being alone in considerable seas.  Fortunately, this day pretty much validated my choice of Marathon.  I picked my way offshore to marker "Red 16" spot by spot.  Despite the wind, seas were only a foot or so, and quite manageable.   I first tried trolling shallow cranks to locate some Spanish,  but it was quickly obvious that there was simply too much grass to continue doing this.  There was virtually nobody else out here except crabbers and dive boats going offshore; maybe it had been a waste of gas to come out here.  But when I anchored up near the current-washed marker and started chumming, I was greeted with almost immediate action.  At first it was pin-fish, leatherjacks and tiny yellowtails, but soon there were mangroves to be caught, small sharks in and around the chum bag,  and visible mackerel activity.  Other visitors included sharksucker remoras and hardheaded catfish.  I was clearly building a visible food chain with great potential for surprises.  With visible sharks, I swam a live pin-fish behind the boat for a couple of hours while I free-lined shrimp or ballyhoo chunks back to snappers and Spanish.  Surprised not to have any action on the livey, I cut the pin-fish in half and trimmed her spikey fins; and quickly found out that a 1/2 pin-fish is better than a whole.   Within a couple of minutes my bait rod bent over and the drag started screaming.  Several surface commotions and long runs interspersed with determined bottom hugging finally brought an approximate 4-foot Caribbean Reef Shark (I believe) to the boat's side.  I was super pleased with the performance of my SaltStriker/Penn  SSV 4500 spinning combo in handling/whuppin' this fish.  And I was even more pleased when a succession of smaller sharks and big Spanish continued to eat pin-fish heads, all while I continued to pound mangroves, yellowtails and Spanish on the shrimp/ballyhoo rods, too.

4-footer subdued; plus, I got the hook out, too!

Selfie with a 3-footer.

Another shark falls to the old half-pin-fish ploy.

Unbelievably strong jaws on these mangroves!

A perfectly- (if only through luck) hooked Spanish Mackerel.

After about 5 hours at anchor in the same spot, I was out of chum and almost out of bait.  I had a confident take on the last pin-fish head as I was cleaning up the boat and storing gear, and I was shocked when I led an approximate 8-foot (what had to have been a bull) shark to within leadering distance of the boat.  When this fish sensed the boat, it took off like crazy!  There was no way to stop it with 40-pound braid, and so when it appeared as though I was about to get totally spooled (with the fish having barely slowed, if at all), I locked down the drag and broke her off.  I saved all my line and I was further pleased to see that the leader had parted at the fluoro/wire connection; everything else had held against the biggest fish I'd ever "caught."

It was, in retrospect, one of the best fishing sessions I've ever enjoyed.  I'd have limited out on mangroves and Spanish (had I chosen to do so), I'd found the spot myself, made some proper decisions, had recorded several Firsts and Bests, and technically, I'd caught my largest fish ever.  Biggest aside, I'd have to say that my favorites were the Spanish on light tackle, free-lining fresh shrimp mixed with chunked ballyhoo.  Their cut-offs were a bit irksome, but simply part of the game.   (The cut-offs were somewhat minimized by bumping up to 20 and 25-pound fluorocarbon leaders.)  Given the amount of action, I was willing to tolerate these interruptions.  I also enjoyed noting, and taking advantage off, the fact that the better fish were biting further back in the slick.   Finally, I'd like to note that my Loomis steelhead spinner rod paired with my Abu Revo 40 Inshore spinning reel and 12-pound Trilene XL made a light, powerful, effective stick that was a joy to fish with.   My Shimano/Pfleuger President combo (so awesome for drop-shotting) was just a little too slow and soft; still fun, but a bit less effective.

I kept a couple of Spanish Mackerel for potential shark bait.

Of course, I chose to push things by continuing on the Atlantic side with some more  trolling cranks in 5-plus seas.   I may have had one momentary hit, but it could have been a crab pot.  As the afternoon wore on, I realized I was alone, in green water with no real offshore prospects.   But trolling with the wind was pretty pleasant,  and I was "doing it."  And, you just never know...


Friday "What Have You Done for me Lately?"

With one last day of fishing, I tried to repeat Thursday's success on Friday morning with A and M.   Conditions were very similar, but the day offered only a fraction of the success and excitement of the previous day.  And yet the girls didn't know that, and they were totally happy with the fish we encountered.  Wrasse? Mangrove? Pin-fish?  Yellowtail?  It didn't much matter, and while they enjoyed success with these smaller fish, we got sharked, 'cuda'd and macked enough to keep it exciting for all.  We had trouble staying on spot and in our slick (my bad; I need to pay more attention to specific anchoring details, especially when it's not my equipment!) and so the great fishing just never really materialized.   While I was mildly disappointed (I'd love to share an awesome fishing day!), they liked it, we stayed comfortable, and we didn't push it.

M caught this legal mangrove all by herself!

Mangrove action was divided about equally between shrimp and ballyhoo chunks.

M really wanted a shark, but we fell just a bit short several times, this day.

(Important Note to self; why do I have the least patience with those I love most?) 

After a nice ride back in, it was time for another $120 in gas; and to clean up/return AmyBaby 22.  I couldn't help but notice that the wind was now clearly fading; that my body was a wreck between lack of sleep, pin-cushion hands, 1000 cuts and bruises; that I was sun-drained, dehydrated and truly malodorous; and that I knew I needed a fuel efficient center console with a T-top in my future.  I also knew I'd had a heck of a week, even without the pelagics that had originally drawn my attention.  This was all more than good enough for me.