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A Change of Scenery The frozen lake is rimmed by hills, covered with birch and evergreen. An island rises out of the white plane. Its trees point to clouds; the sun, low, casts island shadows, tree shadows, on the ice. The sun is low in winter. There are no birds, no insects, no sound but the crunch of your boots in the snow. Strangers are lucky to meet on the ice. Advice, freely given, may lead to a honey hole. A guy in a small four-wheeler, traveling across the lake towards the west, veers towards us. I stand up and wave. He pulls up a little closer, and stops. “Any luck?” he asks. “One good-sized perch. That’s it,” I tell him. “How about you?” “I haven’t done much ice fishing in the last few years. I usually just go snowmobiling, but the snow has been really crappy lately, so I decided to try some ice fishing.” His ATV is quite small, with a deck in back, built out of plywood, with a box built to hold fishing tackle neatly. He looks at us through thick glasses, with pale blue eyes, set in an ashen face framed by a few days growth of gray whiskers and a warm hat with a bill. He’s dressed for warmth, and there is no portable ice house on board his rig, or in tow. He doesn’t have a fish-finder, either. I give him what little information I have; the bad news. “We’ve been out here since 8:30. I’ve been watching schools of fish swim under us all day long, anywhere from 20 to 15 feet, but I can’t get ‘em to bite. We’re in 28 feet of water right now. Usually, when I see the Vexilar light up like that, fish are biting, but that wasn’t the case this time. We caught the perch off the bottom about an hour ago, right after the sun came out. Maybe if you use a reflective lure, you can catch some perch.” He grinned, knowing futility when he heard it. “They were catching walleyes right over there at sundown the other day.” He points northeast, to the left of the island. “See where they were over there?” I looked where he pointed. “Well, then, we’ll probably try fishing over there tomorrow. Thanks.” The pale blue eyes continued to regard me, revealing no judgment. He spoke up again. “You see that fish house way over there?” We all looked to the west. You could see a small house perched on the ice off a distant point. “They were catching sunnies and crappies there the other day on minnows and waxworms. What kind of bait are you using?” “Minnows. Minnows on chartreuse jigs, minnows on spinners, minnows on red hooks, at different depths, and with some different colors and lures. I’ve jigged right in front of ‘em. I’ve tried about everything I know. We caught the perch off the bottom a while ago, with just a minnow on a red hook, right after the sun came out. We noticed a few nibbles after the sun came out.” There were a few breaths worth of silence. “I haven’t ice fished for a few years. I’m just trying out fishing again because the snow isn’t very good for snowmobiling. They caught some walleyes over there the other day.” He pointed to the spot to the left of the island again, and I looked again. “Thanks, I think I’ll try that tomorrow. We’re pretty beat right now, though. I think we’ll try fishing over there tomorrow.” I looked at his ATV. “That’s a nice little ATV. I’ve never seen one like that.” “It’s an ’87 Suzuki. I bought it from my cousin five years ago, and haven’t had to do anything to it. It has two wheel drive; four wheel drive, high and low. You can lock it into four.” He smiled. “Well, it does the job. Kind of hard to get stuck.” “Yep.” “Are you from around here?” “You bet. I live on the other side of the lake over there.” He pointed past where someone had caught walleye the other day. “How about you?” “We’re from “Oh, yeah, I work over at the mine in Babbitt. I take the ice road across the lake to get to work. It cuts about five miles off the trip.” With that statement, a gray grin flashed, but then he took on a serious demeanor. “The ice is pretty good on that road. I wouldn’t wander off of it, though. The weather has been pretty weird this winter.” “Don’t worry about us. We parked back at the public access and pulled all this out here.” “Well, you could have driven as far as the end of that road there.” He pointed to the right of the island. “There’s plenty of good ice out here. Most of this lake has decent ice, except for the flow going out, past the resort you’re at. I just wouldn’t drive a car off the road.” “No, probably not a good idea.” The wind picked up a bit. The three of us measured it with bare faces. I spoke up again. “You know, I really like it here. One of these days I’d like to move here. I know the lake property can be pretty expensive, but the towns seem to be pretty affordable.” The ATV guy brightened a bit. “Hey, you know, they’re building a new steel
plant over at I looked at him blankly. “Well, I work on computers. I guess there might be some work like that around here.” “I suppose with computers, you can work just about anywhere.” “Hm. Well, I suppose.” The wind blew a little harder. “I think we’re going to take off in a bit. We’ve had enough fishing for today. Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow afternoon and try for some walleye over there where you showed us.” “OK, good enough. Hey, if you’re ever over on the other side of the lake, drop on by.” “OK. See ya’.” “See ya’.” He turned, and drove away, heading westward. I never got his name. |
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Copyright 2005 Charles Brittain Fleming |
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