Lake Nipissing Ice Fishing
I dream of Bryant, Alabama, but I wake up in a hotel room in North Bay. As my friend packs the car, I check my tackle bag, making sure that everything's in order. The weather's nice: the sun is shining, and it's not as cold as it's recently been. We drive to Bear Creek Cottages in Callander, where we're picked up by a snowmobile that's been waiting for us. It hits me; it's finally happening. It's not the vacation I originally imagined, but it's a vacation nonetheless -- an escape from drudgery, from the mistake-laden, often times insignificant existence of professional life.
My friend hasn't fished since she was a child, so I set her up with 8 lb. monofilament line and tie on a rocket red coloured Mister Twister round jighead tipped with a minnow. We're fishing in roughly 30 feet of water, and before 9 in the morning, my friend hooks her first fish. She's using a relatively stiff rod, so I can tell almost immediately she has a decent one on her line. She brings it up to the hole, and, somewhat surprised, I grab a 13.5" walleye. And so begins the theme of the day: the student schooling the teacher.
We fish, and sometimes I feel like I'm reliving my Cook's Bay experience. I go back and forth between using my medium heavy rod spooled with 10 lb. monofilament and my medium light rod with 4 lb. fluorocarbon. On the lighter rod, I have a drop-shot rig with a minnow on the hook. I'm catching fish, but not the ones I'm really interested in -- fish after fish, I'm pulling in 10" perch.
The fishing slows down around noon. At 2 pm, my friend hooks her second fish, and pulls in another 14" walleye. Satisfied, she lies down on the bench and takes a nap, while I'm left scratching my head. What am I doing wrong? I start trying all kinds of other lures: a gold jigging rap, a Williams jigging spoon, and even a few different lipless crankbaits. But nothing's working. And as I'm struggling, my friend wakes up from her nap, and goes back to using the tried, tested and true jighead. At around 4 pm, her rod bends yet again. I move to grab the fish, and I can't believe my eyes: it's a 17" herring*.
My frustration grows; I become profane and morose. I'm happy for my friend, but my outward expression certainly doesn't show it. I'm a competitor, and I fish to catch fish, not simply to pass the time. But it's more than just that. This mini-vacation was supposed to be an escape from the impotence and powerlessness I experience in my professional life; instead, I'm left with the familiar feeling of incompetence and incapability. The day transforms into a microcosm: I'm close, very close, to getting what I want, but I just can't get it. Of course, I don't say any of this; I just act like an asshole. As if a punishment for my selfishness, my friend pulls in another 14" walleye. The score: four-nothing.
As the day nears its end, I sit quietly, staring at my line. Even though I feel defeated, I've learned from the past. I'm not giving up, and 9 hours in, I'm still 100% focussed on the task at hand. I stop messing around with my lures and look at the facts: every fish so far has been caught on a red jighead. While I'm tying one on to my 10 lb. line, I come to an important realization -- this is exactly what I love about fishing. The ecstatic highs and the frustrating lows complement my bipolar tendencies. And so I embrace exasperation as dusk approaches. Just then, I feel a tap on the end of my line, a reward, perhaps, for introspection. Finally, there's something on the end of my line that isn't a perch. I pass my rod to my friend, and recklessly grab the fish in the hole - there's no way this one is getting away, even if it means a tooth or a hook in my hand. Relief. Exhalation. An 18" walleye in my hands.
After snapping a few pictures, I put on another minnow. The fish must be feeding, because in almost no time I hook another one. This one feels good, even better than the last one. When I see it, my smile shows itself for the first time in hours. It's a 22" walleye - not a monster by any stretch of the imagination, but it's the biggest of the day. Curses of frustration are replaced but those of elation, and hindsight once again glosses nostalgic the day of ice fishing that was.
My friend hasn't fished since she was a child, so I set her up with 8 lb. monofilament line and tie on a rocket red coloured Mister Twister round jighead tipped with a minnow. We're fishing in roughly 30 feet of water, and before 9 in the morning, my friend hooks her first fish. She's using a relatively stiff rod, so I can tell almost immediately she has a decent one on her line. She brings it up to the hole, and, somewhat surprised, I grab a 13.5" walleye. And so begins the theme of the day: the student schooling the teacher.
The next day, sitting at the dinner table, eating fresh fish with my family, I'm filled with remorse. It's remarkable how much the beautiful sacrifice for (or have been sacrificed to) a fleeting moment of my happiness. And, perhaps, even more remarkable is how quickly the guilty feeling wanes when that flavour hits my tongue...
*At first I thought this was a whitefish, despite the fact that the lower jaw of the fish extended to the tip of the snout. I just figured that herring didn't get this big. But some of the guys at http://www.lakesimcoemessageboard.com/ informed me that this was in fact a herring.
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