Found via Alert Underground Reader Mark (bet he got it via Moldy Chum), this video of “a football field” of carp swimming under clear ice just makes me want to grab an ice fishing auger, though I can’t imagine how you’d land one of the bigger fish through a small hole (much less fight one of the things):
See you on ice, Tom Chandler.
The Underground isn’t the kind of blog to point fingers and go “neener neener” or anything, but a prior post’s concern about the dangers of walking on frozen lakes seemed eerily appropriate given this little news item:
NAMUR, Wis. – Twelve ice fishermen were stranded for hours on a huge chunk of ice that broke off from shore Thursday and floated into Green Bay, but rescue crews plucked them all safely from the large ice sheet, the U.S. Coast Guard said.
Three groups of fishermen had ventured onto the ice, bringing pickup trucks and all-terrain vehicles. But a large fissure ripped through the floe when a freighter passed through the bay, creating ripples that combined with high winds to break the ice.
The pickups and ATVs remained behind, and though there’s a good chance they’ll be recovered if the ice re-freezes, one wonders how insurance agents in ice-bound waters feel about this sort of thing.
As always, the Underground remains ever-steadfast in its support of those who choose to fish atop frozen bodies of water, though we draw the line at anything that might increase our auto insurance rates.
See you on the ice floe, Tom Chandler
I planned to fish on Friday – running downriver in a search for BWOs – but instead the clouds forecast by that zany bunch of jokers at the Weather Channel, the day dawned clear and bright.
We’re all about flexibility here at the Underground, so instead of chasing a probably non-existent BWO hatch, the L&T and I packed up the Wonderdog, some snowshoes, and headed for Castle Lake.
Castle Lake – at once both frozen and impressive
Before I moved to the area, I fished Castle Lake all the time, once landing better than 30 trout during a stormy-day callibaetis hatch.
In the near-decade since I moved here, I’ve fished it exactly twice.
The problem? It’s a fairly spectacular lake – one you can drive right up to.
On summer weekends, the cars pile up in the lot and spill out onto the shoulders of the road up the mountain, and my attraction for a pretty lake has always been overwhelmed by my desire to avoid crowds.
The view from the overlook – Mount Shasta wreathed in clouds. (L&T photo)
Still, with the last snowfall still fresh on the ground, we gambled there’d be few folks up there, and for once, I gambled right.
The lake was frozen (it’s home to ice fishermen all winter long) and largely untracked. We pounded through the shoreline drifts on the right side of the lake, the untracked snow permitting us a powerful self-delusion: we were the first to ever see this gorgeous place (forgetting the crowds of summer).
Eventually, we circled around the right side of the lake, then tracked directly across the lake (and I don’t care how thick the ice is, you listen for cracking noises), arriving at a pair of ice fishermen’s holes minutes after they left with five trout.
Massively altered image of the L&T and our gear on the snowy, frozen lake.
My two favorite beings on the planet.
It wasn’t an “adventure” by any real measure of the term, but it was damned fun, and yes, everyone walked off the ice with sore legs (busting thigh-deep snowdrifts is work) and a powerful hunger.
The Wonderdog ate his weight in dog biscuits, and I won’t embarrass the L&T or myself by revealing The Ugly Truth (extra fries, anyone?).
Today? If the cloud cover holds, it’s BWOs, and perhaps even a gear test of a prized Christmas gift from the L&T – a really, really warm piece of clothing.
See you on the frozen lake, Tom Chandler
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