Well, it's that time of year again! The chill is gone from the air and has been replaced by the bitter cold breath old man winter. And that can only mean one thing... ICE FISHING!!!! There is nothing quite like sitting on the ice first thing in the morning with a hot coffee and a wet line. And it can't happened quick enough.
I have been out to a few lakes here locally to check ice conditions and my findings are good. We have had nice cold temperatures and very little snow, so the ice is coming along nicely. One of my favorite early season spots was about 2 1/2 inches thick, clear as could be, and hardly any snow on the lake. And with conditions like we are supposed to be having for the next week, we should have good ice.
For the past three weeks, I have been getting my equipment out from it's hiding spots and ready for the first ice that will be here soon. My rods are ready, my gear is clean and ready, and the "Bucket of Wonder and Awe" is ready for another season. Now, all that is left is the wait....
Showing posts with label lake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lake. Show all posts
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Sometimes, It's a Long Hard Hunt
This hunting season has been very slow for me. With my injury that happened just three days before early goose season, getting out and about has been quite the chore. But it is always worth it. I have never had a hunt where I said "I wish I would have just stayed home". But, this past week, I came very close.
A friend of mine made his way up from North Carolina to do some Michigan duck hunting. He moved away from Michigan a few years back, but the waterfowl hunting out by him just isn't the same as it is here in Michigan. So, a couple of months ago he called me up and said he wanted to make a trip up here and told me to keep an eye out on the duck reports so we could have an awesome hunt. I was pumped when the time grew near.
He arrived in Michigan and took a quick power nap, then called me up for an evening hunt. He had always wanted to hunt the Holloway Reservoir, a place where he grew up fishing. I had never been there, but from what he described, it sounded like a duck haven. After a little research, I found a few forums that talked about the hunting out there, and there were a few success stories. Game on.
We got to the primitive launch site and dropped the boat in. It was pretty rocky, so we walked the boat the first 50 or so yards. After that it was smooth sailing. We reached the other side of the reservoir and found our spot, but the water level was very low. Time to test out the Mudd Buddy. We zipped across the remaining water until we got within 30 yards of where we were going to set up, then the mud changed. It went from sloppy mud to thick clay-like mud. So we got out again and pulled the rest of the way. We set up on a little point surrounded by cattails and a nice cross wind. After setting out a small spread, we brushed up the boat and got ready. everything was perfect and in place. But one thing was missing. Ducks. It was two hours before we saw our first birds, and they we a faint vision on the horizon. Every duck from then on followed the same flight path.
I was scanning the horizon when my buddy said to me "Hey. Wasn't that cinder block over there under water when we were setting decoys?". "I hope not" I replied. There was only about 30 minutes of shooting light left, so we watched to see if the water dropped any more. Then, he said he needed to use the little boys room. Now, anyone that has any experience hunting knows that the second you go to relieve yourself, whatever you are hunting will come out at that exact moment, stick out it's tongue and wave, then make it's way back out of sight. I told him that the second he stepped out of the boat, the ducks would come in. But he really had to go. Sure enough, the second his foot hit the water, a pair of woodies came in from behind. He scrambled back into the boat, but we were made and the pair got out of there. And that was the extend of our action. Last light came and our hunting was over.
But the story does not end there. Oh no, not at all. As we looked out of the boat, we noticed that more of the cinder block was indeed showing. The reservoir was being drained while we were in it. And when we stepped out of the boat, our boots hit ground and not water. It took almost 30 minutes to get the boat moved over to water that was float-able. As we made our way to our spread, we noticed that some of our decoys we actuality starting to tip because the keels were touching the bottom. Not good. Now for the trip out. Now, keep in mind that I am freshly out of a cast and am not supposed to be walking without a brace, let alone walking through a marsh dragging a boat. we wound up dragging (not floating) the boat probably around 100 yards or so. We finally reached float-able water and jumped in. We are now home free. Well not quite. We made our way back through the canals looking for our launch. But it was no where to be found. We drove up and down those canals, but just could not find it. Then it hit us. We had to drag the boat when we put it in because it was too shallow. And since the water had dropped, that canal was probably land locked. After some searching, we found another primitive boat launch and parked the boat. My friend then had a nice little walk to try to find the other boat launch and his truck. What a night. Then, to top it off, we were standing on the back of his tilt trailer to get the boat loaded and I stepped on one of the tail lights instead of the frame. The light had no chance against me and instantly broke.
All in all, I was glad to get out and hunt somewhere new. But, I was real close to saying those eight little words....
A friend of mine made his way up from North Carolina to do some Michigan duck hunting. He moved away from Michigan a few years back, but the waterfowl hunting out by him just isn't the same as it is here in Michigan. So, a couple of months ago he called me up and said he wanted to make a trip up here and told me to keep an eye out on the duck reports so we could have an awesome hunt. I was pumped when the time grew near.
He arrived in Michigan and took a quick power nap, then called me up for an evening hunt. He had always wanted to hunt the Holloway Reservoir, a place where he grew up fishing. I had never been there, but from what he described, it sounded like a duck haven. After a little research, I found a few forums that talked about the hunting out there, and there were a few success stories. Game on.
We got to the primitive launch site and dropped the boat in. It was pretty rocky, so we walked the boat the first 50 or so yards. After that it was smooth sailing. We reached the other side of the reservoir and found our spot, but the water level was very low. Time to test out the Mudd Buddy. We zipped across the remaining water until we got within 30 yards of where we were going to set up, then the mud changed. It went from sloppy mud to thick clay-like mud. So we got out again and pulled the rest of the way. We set up on a little point surrounded by cattails and a nice cross wind. After setting out a small spread, we brushed up the boat and got ready. everything was perfect and in place. But one thing was missing. Ducks. It was two hours before we saw our first birds, and they we a faint vision on the horizon. Every duck from then on followed the same flight path.
I was scanning the horizon when my buddy said to me "Hey. Wasn't that cinder block over there under water when we were setting decoys?". "I hope not" I replied. There was only about 30 minutes of shooting light left, so we watched to see if the water dropped any more. Then, he said he needed to use the little boys room. Now, anyone that has any experience hunting knows that the second you go to relieve yourself, whatever you are hunting will come out at that exact moment, stick out it's tongue and wave, then make it's way back out of sight. I told him that the second he stepped out of the boat, the ducks would come in. But he really had to go. Sure enough, the second his foot hit the water, a pair of woodies came in from behind. He scrambled back into the boat, but we were made and the pair got out of there. And that was the extend of our action. Last light came and our hunting was over.
But the story does not end there. Oh no, not at all. As we looked out of the boat, we noticed that more of the cinder block was indeed showing. The reservoir was being drained while we were in it. And when we stepped out of the boat, our boots hit ground and not water. It took almost 30 minutes to get the boat moved over to water that was float-able. As we made our way to our spread, we noticed that some of our decoys we actuality starting to tip because the keels were touching the bottom. Not good. Now for the trip out. Now, keep in mind that I am freshly out of a cast and am not supposed to be walking without a brace, let alone walking through a marsh dragging a boat. we wound up dragging (not floating) the boat probably around 100 yards or so. We finally reached float-able water and jumped in. We are now home free. Well not quite. We made our way back through the canals looking for our launch. But it was no where to be found. We drove up and down those canals, but just could not find it. Then it hit us. We had to drag the boat when we put it in because it was too shallow. And since the water had dropped, that canal was probably land locked. After some searching, we found another primitive boat launch and parked the boat. My friend then had a nice little walk to try to find the other boat launch and his truck. What a night. Then, to top it off, we were standing on the back of his tilt trailer to get the boat loaded and I stepped on one of the tail lights instead of the frame. The light had no chance against me and instantly broke.
All in all, I was glad to get out and hunt somewhere new. But, I was real close to saying those eight little words....
Monday, May 18, 2009
Second Annual Houghton Lake Ice Fishing Trip
Well, it's been a while since I have last written, so I have alot of catching up to do! And the first story that I would like to tell is about our trip up to Houghton Lake for another stay out on the ice and the adventures that come with it. This year, my good friend Mike, along with his sons (and equally good friends) Mike and Jake accompanied me on this winter camp out. We started out our trip early Friday morning with a break from the norm and went to Tim Hortons instead of our normal Micky D's breakfast befor our two and a half hour drive. We arrived at Lyman's on the Lake where we checked in and bought all of our last minute supplies and bait. They helped us load all of our things onto the shuttle they provided and we made our way out to our home for the weekend. There was a pleasant surprise this year, as Lymans added a second set of bunks on the other side of the shanty. We got set up and started to rig up our poles and tip-ups with eager anticipation to the fishing frenzy we were about to take part in. After about an hour, we started popping holes in the ice with our new StrikeMaster power auger (we HAD to get a new toy for the trip) and set our tip-ups around the shanty.
But lets backtrack for a second. Before we had left, we decided we were going to play a game called "group tip-up". The rules of this game are pretty simple. Every hour or so, a new tip-up is chosen out of the group and deemed the "group tip-up". During that time, anyone who sees the flag spring on that tip-up can get it. If more than one person notices, they can do anything in their power (within reason - we don't want any one getting sevely hurt) to prevent the others from getting it first. The first person to get their hands on the tip-up gets to reel it in.
Now, back to the fishing. It's about here is where I would like to tell you that we brought them in left and right. That it was all we could do to keep bait on our lines. But that's not how it happened. Along with us came a low pressure system that killed all the fishing on the lake. There we a few flags here and there, but none in our camp.
Combine that with the near foot of snow that came down in blizzard conditions, it just wasn't a good weekend for ice fighting. But we still had a good time. We made the best of all of the time we spent inside our shanty. We ate like kings, told and retold stories, and made some fond memories. After all, isn't that what it's all about?
But lets backtrack for a second. Before we had left, we decided we were going to play a game called "group tip-up". The rules of this game are pretty simple. Every hour or so, a new tip-up is chosen out of the group and deemed the "group tip-up". During that time, anyone who sees the flag spring on that tip-up can get it. If more than one person notices, they can do anything in their power (within reason - we don't want any one getting sevely hurt) to prevent the others from getting it first. The first person to get their hands on the tip-up gets to reel it in.
Now, back to the fishing. It's about here is where I would like to tell you that we brought them in left and right. That it was all we could do to keep bait on our lines. But that's not how it happened. Along with us came a low pressure system that killed all the fishing on the lake. There we a few flags here and there, but none in our camp.
Combine that with the near foot of snow that came down in blizzard conditions, it just wasn't a good weekend for ice fighting. But we still had a good time. We made the best of all of the time we spent inside our shanty. We ate like kings, told and retold stories, and made some fond memories. After all, isn't that what it's all about?
Monday, January 19, 2009
Awesome Fish Recipe: Fish Crack!
Well, I have been saying for some time that I would give you guys (and gals) my wife's awesome fish recipe that I have dubbed "fish crack". It's pretty simple and the first time I made it, we had five kids over and all of them loved it (and for my kids, that's a feat!). In fact, I only got a few pieces that first time she made them. The kids got the rest! So here is the soon-to-be world famous "fish crack" recipe....
Fish Crack
(Oven-Fried Fish Fillets)
Prep Time: 10 min
Cook Time: 20 min
4 servings
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
2/3 cup crushed crackers (I use Ritz)
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese (about 1-ounce)
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1 pound sole, scrod, perch, blue gill or other mild-tasting fish fillets
Lemon wedges
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F
Melt the butter in a 9 by 13-inch pan in the oven. While it melts, combine everything else except the fish in a pie pan. Dip the fish around in the melted butter, dip each piece in the crumb mixture, and return it to the baking pan. Bake the fillets for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the fish flakes with a fork. Serve with lemon wedges if like.
These are also good fried, just not as healthy. Same process, just fry 'em for 2-3 minutes on each side or until golden brown. Make sure you have the grease good and hot! Enjoy!
Fish Crack
(Oven-Fried Fish Fillets)
Prep Time: 10 min
Cook Time: 20 min
4 servings
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
2/3 cup crushed crackers (I use Ritz)
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese (about 1-ounce)
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1 pound sole, scrod, perch, blue gill or other mild-tasting fish fillets
Lemon wedges
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F
Melt the butter in a 9 by 13-inch pan in the oven. While it melts, combine everything else except the fish in a pie pan. Dip the fish around in the melted butter, dip each piece in the crumb mixture, and return it to the baking pan. Bake the fillets for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the fish flakes with a fork. Serve with lemon wedges if like.
These are also good fried, just not as healthy. Same process, just fry 'em for 2-3 minutes on each side or until golden brown. Make sure you have the grease good and hot! Enjoy!
Friday, December 19, 2008
First Ice!!!
Well, the time is here to start fishing the hard waters of Michigan! I headed out to a local lake to test the ice and see if my season of ice fishing could start. I ventured out on Little Seven Lake in Seven Lakes State Park and was happy to find 4+ inches of good, solid ice! It was only an hour or so until dark, so my time was limited. I popped a hole in the ice, set up and sat down. For the next hour, it was all I could do to keep my hands warm because I never had enough time to get my gloves on! Now when I went out, I didn't think I would find good ice, let alone find a hot-spot on the first hole. I was pulling gills up as fast as I could put the line back down to the bottom. Out of the 30 or so fish that I caught, 15 were definite keepers along with a 15 inch bass, my first taken through the ice. But, I didn't feel like cleaning any fish that night, so everything made it back to the hole.
The kids and their catch from our day on the ice
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A couple of days later I went out to Big Seven Lake and found a solid 5+ inches of good ice, but lady luck wasn't with me that day and I went home with an empty bucket.
Then this past weekend, I decided to take my two youngest out on the ice with me. I was also accompanied by Mikey from the Up North Journal. We decided to hit Little Seven Lake again and try our luck. I got my kids set up and, at first, the bite was slow. We really didn't have any action for the first hour. But then things picked up and the spring bobbers on the end of our rods were starting to earn their keep. In between bites, the kids were taking turns spinning in circles on the buckets and making snow angels, as well as a quick game of "fishball" (it's just like football, just with a frozen fish).
Every couple of minutes they would come back over to the poles and fish for a second before finding another game to play. One of the times they came back to fish, my daughter, Caitlyn, was holding the rod and the tip bent right down. She fought and fought like it was the last thing she was going to do. After a minute or so of reeling, I saw the flash of silver in the hole. When she finally pulled that fish out of the hole, I couldn't have been more proud. My daughter had pulled her first bass out of the ice. At only 12 inches, we had to let him swim away, but not before a picture and alot of praise. Later that night, I cleaned the fish and tried a new recipe. But that will have to wait until next time...
The kids and their catch from our day on the ice
Caitlyn and her first bass
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Another Great Waterfowl Weekend
A couple of weekends ago, both of the Mikes from the Up North Journal and I spent most of the weekend waterfowl hunting and it was great! We started out Friday night on Lake Ponemah on a little island that I have never hunted off of. Every time we have been out, someone has been out there, so we just go somewhere else. As we are first getting set up, I noticed a couple of mallards making their way off of the island, right where we were about to set our blind up at! Well, at least we know that there are ducks here!
After about 30 minutes, our decoys are set up and the blind is finished. We plop down and get ready for the onslaught. Nothing. It wasn't until an hour later that we heard a flight of geese coming in. With the gun mounted camera rolling on Big Mike's gun, Little Mike and I are laying in on the goose calls (well, I'm putting as many clucks out as I could manage while Little Mike throws out his champion calling skills) and they are coming right for us. There were three groups in the incoming flight, and the last group was looking promising. They started to veer towards us but they were not going to commit, so when they started to come overhead, we let loose. The lead goose dropped, but the rest kept flying. And that was pretty much the end of that night of hunting. But, around here, one is better than none. And, after reviewing the video and audio, we came to the conclusion that it was my bird. Add some more to the freezer.
The next morning, we headed out to another local lake that is only a few miles down the road from me. Big Seven Lake is in the middle of Seven Lakes State Park and is definitely our local waterfowl hangout. We were out on the water by 5:30am and set up with about 20 minutes to spare before first light. Right off the bat, the ducks were flying. This was going to be a good morning. After a few fly-bys that snuck past us, we had a pair fly in and circle around. They decoyed a little short and landed on the outside of the spread and swam in. When they got within range, we jump up to get them flying, but they just sat there. So we started yelling. They just sat there. Then we started throwing sticks. They just sat there. What was going on?!? No matter what we did, they just sat there and stared at us. So, we got out of the blind and started splashing towards them. Nothing. It wasn't until I got about 15 yards away did they even start to get up. I took one and Little Mike took the other. A mallard and a hen to start the morning off. The rest of the day was action packed. Birds were flying all over the place. We called a few in, but for the most part we were pass shooting. Or should I say pass missing. We didn't get anymore birds that day, but it was still a good day.
The next morning we headed out to the same place. Set-up was done with 20 minutes to spare again. Right at first light we had a flight of Wigeon come in from the west and they came in fast. They decoyed perfectly. Little Mike took the first one in. When he brought it up, it was perfect. A good sized body, perfect color, and just a few pellet makes in well hidden areas. With in the first five minutes, he decided that this one was going to be mounted. A while later another flight came in and Big Mike drop the middle one like a rock. We are pretty sure that Little Mike got one, but he managed to fly off. After two trips out in the boat and a walk around the island, we couldn't find him. But it wasn't from a lack of trying. We now had a Black duck to add to the count. After that, it was another day of throwing steel. I think in the next year, I'm going to join up with a sportsman's club that has a trap course.
So, all in all it was a good local weekend with some birds put in the freezer.
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"Little" Mike and I
This is the Video "Big" Mike made of our waterfowling weekend....enjoy!
After about 30 minutes, our decoys are set up and the blind is finished. We plop down and get ready for the onslaught. Nothing. It wasn't until an hour later that we heard a flight of geese coming in. With the gun mounted camera rolling on Big Mike's gun, Little Mike and I are laying in on the goose calls (well, I'm putting as many clucks out as I could manage while Little Mike throws out his champion calling skills) and they are coming right for us. There were three groups in the incoming flight, and the last group was looking promising. They started to veer towards us but they were not going to commit, so when they started to come overhead, we let loose. The lead goose dropped, but the rest kept flying. And that was pretty much the end of that night of hunting. But, around here, one is better than none. And, after reviewing the video and audio, we came to the conclusion that it was my bird. Add some more to the freezer.
The next morning, we headed out to another local lake that is only a few miles down the road from me. Big Seven Lake is in the middle of Seven Lakes State Park and is definitely our local waterfowl hangout. We were out on the water by 5:30am and set up with about 20 minutes to spare before first light. Right off the bat, the ducks were flying. This was going to be a good morning. After a few fly-bys that snuck past us, we had a pair fly in and circle around. They decoyed a little short and landed on the outside of the spread and swam in. When they got within range, we jump up to get them flying, but they just sat there. So we started yelling. They just sat there. Then we started throwing sticks. They just sat there. What was going on?!? No matter what we did, they just sat there and stared at us. So, we got out of the blind and started splashing towards them. Nothing. It wasn't until I got about 15 yards away did they even start to get up. I took one and Little Mike took the other. A mallard and a hen to start the morning off. The rest of the day was action packed. Birds were flying all over the place. We called a few in, but for the most part we were pass shooting. Or should I say pass missing. We didn't get anymore birds that day, but it was still a good day.
The next morning we headed out to the same place. Set-up was done with 20 minutes to spare again. Right at first light we had a flight of Wigeon come in from the west and they came in fast. They decoyed perfectly. Little Mike took the first one in. When he brought it up, it was perfect. A good sized body, perfect color, and just a few pellet makes in well hidden areas. With in the first five minutes, he decided that this one was going to be mounted. A while later another flight came in and Big Mike drop the middle one like a rock. We are pretty sure that Little Mike got one, but he managed to fly off. After two trips out in the boat and a walk around the island, we couldn't find him. But it wasn't from a lack of trying. We now had a Black duck to add to the count. After that, it was another day of throwing steel. I think in the next year, I'm going to join up with a sportsman's club that has a trap course.
So, all in all it was a good local weekend with some birds put in the freezer.
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"Little" Mike and I
This is the Video "Big" Mike made of our waterfowling weekend....enjoy!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The One that Almost Got Away
There is a little spot where I love to hunt squirrel. It's a little track of state land that has been very good to me. And nestled a ways back in my little haven is a small pond. A small pond that almost always has ducks on it. So, if my waterfowling adventures aren't going too well, I usually make the hike back and try to take a duck there. It's the same every time. I approach from the trail coming from the south, sneak down the bank, and they get spooked and fly from the east side of the pond to the west. And as they start to fly over the west bank, I take my shot and they come down in the woods just past the bank. I go and retrieve them and all is well.
Well, after an unsuccessful hunt early last year, I decided to make my way back towards my secret little duck pond. And as I crept down the bank there, as always, were a few mallards swimming on the east side of the pond. I got into position then stood up, and they took off as according to plan. They reached the other side of the pond, I pulled up, squeezed the trigger, and BOOM! The mallard hen trailing the others did a nose dive into the woods. Perfect! I was giddy as a school kid as I made my way towards the other side of the pond (I still get the same feeling that I got with the first animal I harvested every time I take game) and into the woods. And there she was, just waiting for me to collect her. I got about five yards away, and she started to move. Heck. I winged her. Oh well, what's done is done, so I'll go finish the job. I took a step then BAM! I'm on the ground cursing the root I had just tripped over. Then, I look up, and she is making her getaway. I raise my gun and squeeze the trigger to take another shot before she can make it to the water and, wouldn't you know, I had the safety on. Now cursing my self, I take the safety off, but it's too late. She's in the water and swimming away. So, there I stand with my gun in hand, staring at the duck I winged swimming in the middle of a pond, and no way to go out and get her. This will not do. Now, I had pulled the trigger, so it was my responsibility to retrieve this animal no matter what. But how? That's when the light bulb lit up. I have an inflatable raft in my trunk! Awesome! But the car is a 15 minute walk away and I don't want her wandering off and then I won't be able to find her. So, I sprint back to the car. Keep in mind that I am in my full hunting wardrobe complete down to my 1000 gram Thinsulate hunting boots. Also keep in mind that I am 6 foot tall and weigh in at a robust 310 pounds. So, I get to the car and I am now drenched from sweat. I open the trunk and pull out the raft and one small oar and start to make my way back. To save time, I get the brilliant idea to inflate the raft as I am running as to save time. After almost blacking out a few times, I finally make it back to the pond and my prize is still waiting for me. Rock on. I finish blowing up the raft and think to myself "funny. I remember this raft being a lot bigger". The raft I had was one of my kid's pool rafts. I look on the bottom and laugh as I read the label proclaiming "100lb max". This should be fun. So I take my boots off along with most of my hunting gear because I know how this is going to end up. I put the raft into the water and start to ease myself down onto it. As I settle down I wait for the water to start coming over the sides, but nothing. This might work after all. Then I push off , and it just gets bad from here. The moment I leave the safety of the four inch deep water, I feel the cold rush of water all over. Now, imagine this. A rather large hunter in a little red and grey play raft in the middle of a pond, legs dangling in the water (so I can keep my balance, and because the raft is only about three feet long) with one paddle chasing after a downed duck. It was quite the sight. And every time I would try to paddle, I would have to reposition the way I way laying to be able to row on the other side. So, amidst everything else, I was spinning in little half circles. I was in that water for almost 20 minutes before I caught up to that duck. When I finally did, I ended it quickly, then headed back to shore. I couldn't help but laugh as I paddled back in. I sat on the bank for about 30 minutes drying off in the sun and contemplating what had just occurred.
The one that almost got away
Well, after an unsuccessful hunt early last year, I decided to make my way back towards my secret little duck pond. And as I crept down the bank there, as always, were a few mallards swimming on the east side of the pond. I got into position then stood up, and they took off as according to plan. They reached the other side of the pond, I pulled up, squeezed the trigger, and BOOM! The mallard hen trailing the others did a nose dive into the woods. Perfect! I was giddy as a school kid as I made my way towards the other side of the pond (I still get the same feeling that I got with the first animal I harvested every time I take game) and into the woods. And there she was, just waiting for me to collect her. I got about five yards away, and she started to move. Heck. I winged her. Oh well, what's done is done, so I'll go finish the job. I took a step then BAM! I'm on the ground cursing the root I had just tripped over. Then, I look up, and she is making her getaway. I raise my gun and squeeze the trigger to take another shot before she can make it to the water and, wouldn't you know, I had the safety on. Now cursing my self, I take the safety off, but it's too late. She's in the water and swimming away. So, there I stand with my gun in hand, staring at the duck I winged swimming in the middle of a pond, and no way to go out and get her. This will not do. Now, I had pulled the trigger, so it was my responsibility to retrieve this animal no matter what. But how? That's when the light bulb lit up. I have an inflatable raft in my trunk! Awesome! But the car is a 15 minute walk away and I don't want her wandering off and then I won't be able to find her. So, I sprint back to the car. Keep in mind that I am in my full hunting wardrobe complete down to my 1000 gram Thinsulate hunting boots. Also keep in mind that I am 6 foot tall and weigh in at a robust 310 pounds. So, I get to the car and I am now drenched from sweat. I open the trunk and pull out the raft and one small oar and start to make my way back. To save time, I get the brilliant idea to inflate the raft as I am running as to save time. After almost blacking out a few times, I finally make it back to the pond and my prize is still waiting for me. Rock on. I finish blowing up the raft and think to myself "funny. I remember this raft being a lot bigger". The raft I had was one of my kid's pool rafts. I look on the bottom and laugh as I read the label proclaiming "100lb max". This should be fun. So I take my boots off along with most of my hunting gear because I know how this is going to end up. I put the raft into the water and start to ease myself down onto it. As I settle down I wait for the water to start coming over the sides, but nothing. This might work after all. Then I push off , and it just gets bad from here. The moment I leave the safety of the four inch deep water, I feel the cold rush of water all over. Now, imagine this. A rather large hunter in a little red and grey play raft in the middle of a pond, legs dangling in the water (so I can keep my balance, and because the raft is only about three feet long) with one paddle chasing after a downed duck. It was quite the sight. And every time I would try to paddle, I would have to reposition the way I way laying to be able to row on the other side. So, amidst everything else, I was spinning in little half circles. I was in that water for almost 20 minutes before I caught up to that duck. When I finally did, I ended it quickly, then headed back to shore. I couldn't help but laugh as I paddled back in. I sat on the bank for about 30 minutes drying off in the sun and contemplating what had just occurred.
The one that almost got away
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Trashing the Outdoors
Not to far from where I live is one of my favorite squirrel hunting spots. This was the spot that I took my first game, and where I spend most of my small game hunting time, so this place is special to me. It is my peaceful refuge. My little chunk of paradise. And I'm sure there are others that feel the same way. Which is why it is so hard for me to stomach what I see every time I go out there. Garbage. And lots of it. It's everywhere I look. The amount of land that we have to pursue our sport on can be few and far between. Why would some people be so careless to destroy it? It doesn't take much to take your trash out with you. I am a smoker (I know, I'm hoping to quit soon) and one of the things I do is I make sure that I have a small baggy or empty cigarette pack that I can put my butts into. The same goes for the wrappers from my snacks or beverage bottles I bring in. If it comes in with me, it will surely make it out with me.
One of my favorite spots to go in my little haven is a small pond about a quarter mile back in. And next to the pond there is a rope swing hung. It's an obvious teen hangout spot. And if there is one, there are 20 or so broken beer bottles along the side of the hill. So, one might say it's the kids doing it. But walk up that same trail and you'll find a couple different ground blinds with a circle of trash around where a hunter once sat. And it's easy to say "it's not me". But, when you see this destruction, what do you do about it? Do you pick up what you can while on your trek or on your way out? It's not a mess that you made, but I believe it is all of our responsibility to help keep our woods, fields, streams, and lakes as clean as we can.
One of my favorite spots to go in my little haven is a small pond about a quarter mile back in. And next to the pond there is a rope swing hung. It's an obvious teen hangout spot. And if there is one, there are 20 or so broken beer bottles along the side of the hill. So, one might say it's the kids doing it. But walk up that same trail and you'll find a couple different ground blinds with a circle of trash around where a hunter once sat. And it's easy to say "it's not me". But, when you see this destruction, what do you do about it? Do you pick up what you can while on your trek or on your way out? It's not a mess that you made, but I believe it is all of our responsibility to help keep our woods, fields, streams, and lakes as clean as we can.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Ice Fishing at Houghton Lake
Last winter, a group of friends and I decided to take a fishing trip up to Houghton Lake, Michigan's largest inland lake covering 22,000 acres. But this wasn't going to be a run of the mill ice fishing trip. We were going to ice fish for 3 days and camp out on the ice. And that we did!
We rented a "sleeper shanty" from one of the local bait shops, Lyman's on the Lake. Now, when I say shanty, that's exactly what it was. No frills. It was an approximately 6' by 14' box with a wooden bunk bed, a few Plexiglas windows, a door and six holes cut in the floor. But that was all we needed. At only $75 per night (7a.m. to 7a.m.), it was more than worth it since we could fish all night if we wanted to. Now, I will say this; it's not for everyone. We started out with 5 guys the morning we arrived. By noon the next day, it was down to myself and my friend Jeremy. The other three opted to rent a cabin.
We rented a "sleeper shanty" from one of the local bait shops, Lyman's on the Lake. Now, when I say shanty, that's exactly what it was. No frills. It was an approximately 6' by 14' box with a wooden bunk bed, a few Plexiglas windows, a door and six holes cut in the floor. But that was all we needed. At only $75 per night (7a.m. to 7a.m.), it was more than worth it since we could fish all night if we wanted to. Now, I will say this; it's not for everyone. We started out with 5 guys the morning we arrived. By noon the next day, it was down to myself and my friend Jeremy. The other three opted to rent a cabin.
The shanty came with a 20lb tank of propane and a heater per night, and that thing kicked out some heat. I, being on the top bunk (where all the heat rose to), was as toasty as could be all night. Those that slept on the bottom bunk and the air mattress were fine right in the middle of the heat. My brother in law, Vince, was not so lucky. He drew the short straw and had to sleep on the opposite side of the shanty as the rest of us and got to sleep on the floor with only a blanket. Now, remember that the temperature at night was getting down to about 5 degrees Fahrenheit and we were sleeping above the ice. When he woke up in the morning, he was frozen...literally. The only thing we could figure was that there had been condensation from the heat towards the ceiling and ran down the wall and onto him. Over the course of the night, as the temperature dropped, his clothes and blanket froze to the floor! Needless to say, he was one of the one's to check out the next morning. It was a fun filled weekend, for sure! But, now, onto the fishing!
The fist morning we were there mainly involved us setting up, and the rest of the day was pretty slow going. We were mainly jigging for walleye, with a few tip-ups set around the shanty for any wandering northern pike that might have happened by. It wasn't until later that weekend that we found out we were in a location on the lake that the locals called "pike alley". That's a key tip; always ask the locals, because they usually know the terrain pretty well. And did they ever! When night started to creep up, the flags started popin'! We caught five or six northerns on the tip-ups right before dark, but they were all short by an inch or so. So, after a hearty dinner on the ice, we all moved in to the shanty to unwind and jig for walleye some more. After a few hours of not even a nibble, everyone else had pulled their lines, aside from me. I figured that if I was awake, I was going to be fishing! Around 11p.m., and after a few jokes about my determination to keep fishing, the end of my light action rod started to dip. I waited for a second to see if whatever had found my minnow tipped teardrop jig was going to take it and I felt another tug. I set the hook, then my rod bent to about 80 degrees and the fight was on! Finally! I was gonna bring up a walleye! And this was a good one. After five minutes or so of fighting I saw a shimmer in the water. That's when I noticed the head. This wasn't a walleye, but a giant northern pike! As I brought him up towards the hole, I heard my brother in law shout "Oh my God! I can see the tail!" as he pointed to the hole two holes down from mine! By this time, I was in disbelief. There was no way I was going to get this thing up. I was using a regular light action rod with 6lb test line and no leader. But, I tried still, and every time I attempted to bring him up, he opened his jaws and wouldn't you know, it was bigger than the 12 inch hole we had drilled! Finally, I pulled up at just the right time and slipped his opening jaws past the edge of the ice and Jeremy reached down and started to pull him out. By this time, there was no room left for blood in my veins. It was pure adrenaline coursing through me. And as he kept pulling that fish out of the hole, it just got better. It seemed like the fish never stopped. This was a trophy. As we exited the shanty with my prize, I picked him up and and just let loose. I probably sounded like a kid at Christmas the way I was yelling. Not only for the fish I had just caught, but for the fact of how I caught him. We took our pictures and said "that was awesome!!" over and over and admired the catch. We laid him next t
o the shanty and waited until morning to take him up to the bait shop and get the official measurement and weight to be entered in the weekly contest (I came in second, but that was fine with me!). The final tale of the tape was 37.5 inches and 11lbs 15oz.
The next morning (after we found Vince frozen to the floor) we set out our tip-ups and went at it again. The next two days were a blur of flags going up and rods bending. We caught somewhere around 45 northern pike, and only one was over the legal limit! But it was fun all the same. We had a couple of nice chats with one of the local Conservation Officers about the lake, the fishing, and a few tales he had for us. Top it off with a little horse play on the four wheelers in a foot of snow, and it made for a weekend I will never forget. I am already planning for our next trip up this year, and I think it will be even better. If you are ever in the Houghton Lake area and get a chance to do some ice fishing, take it. And if you want to try something a little different, try camping out! I guarantee you'll have a blast!
My father in law with one of the many caught inside the shanty on regular ice fishing rods. Behind him, you can see the bunks we had to sleep on.
Jeremy "admiring" his catch .
If you are interested in finding out more about fishing Houghton lake or about renting a shanty, contact Lyman's on the Lake. Tell them that Chuck from the Up North Journal sent ya!
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