The Last Hoorah?

The final approach?

   You could cut the apprehension with a knife yesterday morning as Tackle Shop and I made our final approach to Lake Simcoe and it's shrinking ice sheet. Early morning temperatures had quickly risen from the freezing mark to around 50 F with an intense sun and brisk winds from the west. The bottom line on this beautiful spring day was could we actually get on the ice or an even better question, once on the ice, could we find a way off in the afternoon? Once again the apprehension was put to rest within a block of the lake as a line of parked vehicles indicated there was indeed access. As it turned out the vehicle closest to the lake was that of a Natural Resources officer doing spot checks for catches and licenses. It was only a matter of time before we ran into an enforcement officer, I'm just surprised it happened on what is likely the last outing of the hard water season.

  As we unloaded the van I made the rash decision to travel light and not put on my cold weather suit, a decision I would regret within a few hours. It's funny how I always ignore my own advice of over-dressing for the weather and removing pieces as needed. Anyways... feeling lighter and thankful for another on ice shot at the pre-spawn schools of perch, we walked 150yrds out, drilled three holes, and immediately started catching fish. Within the first ten minutes TS and I had landed dozens of good sized perch and a herring each. The bite was fairly consistent all day long with the fish taking anything offered, but the larger fish were still nowhere to be found with the days largest (just under 12") caught by TS.

  By mid afternoon the weather conditions had taken their toll on the ice and me. I was chilled to the bone by the constant buffeting of the damp wind and the ice had taken on a granular texture easily scraped away with the tip of a toe. As we packed up and made our way back to the launch area, our escape from the ice was impaired by a stretch of open water and we had to walk a plank to make it safely back to dry land. In the coming weeks there will be those who will stubbornly try to extend the season and I'm sure to hear of a few of them in the news. I'm not actively pursuing a career in death defiance so it's time to say goodbye to ice fishing for another year.

Just a few holdouts

  On the trip home Tackle Shop and I decided to check out reports of open water crappie catches in the Holland River at the south end of the lake. There were plenty of frigid shore anglers battling the wind and a few boats working the river, but we didn't see anything "fishy" going on. Winter is just beginning to relinquish it's grip on this part of the country and now that the hardwater season is officially over for me I guess it's time to patch that hole in my waders, dust off and restock my fly boxes and start thinking about open water seriously.

 Although there were 25% fewer trips than last year, hardwater 2011 was a fantastic success with new areas scouted out, new anglers indoctrinated in the ways of ice, reacquainted with old friends and areas, personal bests attained, information towards new opportunities like salmon and trout through the ice for next year, and most importantly... a reason to love winter!

Joke/Quote of the Week #5

 It's that time of the week again so grab your coffee, tea or cocoa, sit back, and prepare to be amused.

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My biggest worry is that my wife (when I'm dead) will sell my fishing gear for what I said I paid for it.
Koos Brandt

I am not against golf, since I cannot but suspect it keeps armies of the unworthy from discovering trout.
Paul O'Neil

There is no greater fan of fly fishing than the worm.
Patrick McManus—"Never Sniff a Gift Fish," 1979

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pet shop selling bait or bait shop selling pets

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Returning home after a weekend in the Maine woods, Mark Twain was lounging in the smoking car of the train to Boston. He couldn't resist the temptation to boast to the rustic-looking New Englander seated beside him about the twelve big fish he'd caught.

"The season is closed for fishing now" Mark Twain confided, "but between you and me, my friend, out there in the baggage car I've got two hundred pounds of the best rock bass that you ever laid eyes on."

"Waal," drawled the New Englander, "that's interesting, but do you know who I am? I'm the state game warden."

Mark Twain puffed on his cigar. "That's interesting," he said. "But do you know who I am? I'm the damnedest liar in the United States."

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Fisherfolk
BY
Robert Service

 

I like to look at fishermen
And often times I wish
One would be lucky now and then
And catch a little fish.
I watch them statuesquely stand,
And at the water look;
But if they pull their float to land
It's just to bait a hook.

I ponder the psychology
That roots them in their place;
And wonder at the calm I see
In ever angler's face.
There is such patience in their eyes,
Beside the river's brink;
And waiting for a bite or rise
I do not think they think.

Or else they are just gentle men,
Who love--they know not why,
Greeen grace of trees or water when
It wimples to the sky . . .
Sweet simple souls! As vain I watch
My heart to you is kind:
Most precious prize of all you catch,
--Just Peace of Mind.  

Well... that's all I've got for now. I've finished my coffee and it's almost time to get ready to hit the ice for possibly the last time this year. Thanks for dropping by, I've got to go but you can hang around longer if you like.