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Date: February 9, 2019 Body of Water: Reeds Lake Boat: None, Ice Fishing With: KS Target: Pike and Panfish Time: 1:30 PM - 6:30 PM Conditions: 20 - 25 degrees F, bright blue skies, calm. Ice was covered with just a dusting of snow and about 9 inches thick. After another week of strange weather (extreme thaw, multiple ice storms and then another shock of bracing cold), I hit the ice with good friend KS. It had been a couple of years since we'd fished together, and he had a hankering for a meal of panfish. We've also shared many pike trips on Reeds Lake, so we settled on a concerted effort for pike along the main submerged hump while prospecting for crappies in the adjacent basin. I was able to place my first two tip-ups on productive pike way-points from the past. These were in 15 and 26 feet of water. While KS spread his traps along the west end of the hump in 10 to 18 feet, I moved south and west off the hump in water from about 30 feet to 45 feet deep. A flag in 18 feet quickly declared "Fish on!" KS tightened up and immediately broke off. He mentioned that his knot at the braid-to-leader junction had looked a little funky; I'd rather not have heard that. That was it for action fro the tip-ups. I moved mine out a bit after they'd soaked unsuccessfully, and KS removed his as we continued our prospecting for crappies. The only biting fish we found were tiny perch in various holes about 30 feet deep, but even these often refused our baits. Meanwhile, there were very few suspended crappies, and these inevitably refused our presentations. Most just disappeared from the screen; others actively refused the bait and could be seen on the sonar swimming down and out. I've a lot of experience catching these fish in about 40 feet of water, and I had a lot of confidence that they would appear in aggressive numbers as the evening progressed. They simply didn't. We made one last desperation move closer to shore, in about 31 feet and near the edge of the deeper basin. We both marked fish here, too, and some were even suspended off the bottom. We struck out on these, and it was now full darkness. We'd skunked on our target species, but we agreed it was nice to be out, regardless. We also agreed that it was better to have tried than not; although he didn't have the 150-mile round trip to consider as a factor. Oh well, it's February in Michigan. And I guess I could choose to believe that the fish we'd lost was a 40-inch pike. Landing such a fish would surely have changed my outlook on the trip. Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways
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Date: February 2, 2019 Body of Water: McEwen Lake and Reeds Lake Boat: None, Ice Fishing With: Alone Target: Pike and Panfish Time: 11:00 AM - 5:30 PM Conditions: 30 - 40 degrees F, Gray, southerly winds to 10 mph. Ice was snow-covered and 9 inches thick. McEwen Lake (11 AM - 1 PM) Coming off several named winter storms and a Polar Vortex Event that delivered the coldest air in a generation to Michigan, the weather suddenly moderated. My gear was ready; I decided to hit Kent County's McEwen Lake for some crappies and perhaps some tip-up action from pike. My goals were simple; get out on the ice for the first time in several years and catch a decent crappie for gyotaku purposes. This particular lake has usually offered a steady, if not slow, pick of suspended crappies, and the pike, while not large, are usually reasonably active. I was not pleased when I arrived at Campau Corners, only to find that the only local bait shop was closed, having been replaced by a franchised investment firm. I was fortunately able to score some spikes and wax worms at the adjacent gas station, and without minnows, my load was lightened as I no longer had to bring my pike gear out on the ice. This was now, officially, a panfish excursion. I like to fish for suspended crappies roaming the lake basin, and so I fish areas as opposed to spots. I found plankton and fish in just about every hole I drilled between 30 and 40 feet of water. While most fish were bottom-oriented and clearly in a negative mood, there were enough suspended fish (generally 18 to 25 feet down) to make the fishing interesting. Those suspended fish are usually biters. Despite my best efforts, the fish consistently ignored or actively rejected my presentations. Regardless of the bait; whether a spike on a tungsten jig, a spoon or a jigging Rapala; the results were the same. I was okay with this, though, because I was outside and fishing for the first time in about four months, some song-birds were singing, and I wasn't all that surprised at the negative mood of the fish. The weather had been crazy; and it was, after all, mid-winter. I suspected that the crappies would turn on at some point and I would accomplish my goals for the day. That would be enough. And then my flasher started flickering, and soon thereafter my "low voltage" signal rang. Despite the battery being ostensibly fully charged, I'd run out of juice. If I'd had minnows for pike, I'd have stayed and targeted pike. Without those minnows, though, there was no way I was going to stay and fish "blind" for negative crappies. By 2 PM, I'd gotten off the ice and crossed town to Al and Bob's new location south of Grand Rapids. There, I acquired their last portable 12-volt battery (and crossed my fingers that it held a charge) and a half dozen golden shiners for pike. I was off to Reeds Lake, with a specific location in mind. Reeds Lake (2:30 PM - 5:30 PM) There was quite a bit more snow in Grand Rapids than there had been just 20 miles to the east. I knew it was going to be rough going through the snow on the sloppy ice, and most people were crowding the most accessible spots. Halfway through my trek to the edge and tip of a prominent sunken point on the lake's northern shoreline, I thought I'd made a poor choice. I was gassed! I put my head down and continued the slog. As I approached the area (very much all alone), I changed out the battery on my sonar and was very pleased to see that the new battery was fully charged. Moreover, my GPS mapping indicated that I was right in the zone; I drilled my first hole for a tip-up in 20 feet of water on a favored inside turn. I decided to set three tip-ups and take a lunch break. I had confidence in each of the tip-up's location. Here I was fishing precise spots, and I had depths from 6 to 25 feet of water covered with fresh, lively baits. After a quick break for hot "Swedish Stew" (by which I mean any hot meal from a thermos and enjoyed outside) of mixed beef stew and baked beans, I moved off the point's tip to scout deeper water for panfish. In holes from 25 to 56 feet of water, I saw much the same as I'd had seen at McEwen; bottom-oriented fish and plankton with a very occasional suspended fish. Once I'd proven to myself that the fish on the bottom were tiny yellow perch, I generally focused on just the suspended fish. These all ignored my various presentations. At 5 PM, a flag from my deepest tip-up (about 25 feet, at the point's submerged tip, with the shiner suspended just a couple of feet from the bottom) announced the possible presence of a fish! As I approached the tip-up, the spool was motionless. The line, however was angled to the side. A fish had definitely hit the shiner. I waited for another half-minute or so before the spool started slowly revolving. The fish still had the bait and was moving away from me. When I initially tightened up, the fish seemed inconsequential. As I hand-lined the fish in, I realized it had taken substantial line on the first run. As it got closer to the hole, it seemed to get bigger. At first glance through the hole, I could see that it was nice keeper-sized pike. After another couple of nice runs, I eased her through the hole. She was fat and legal; I decided to keep her for a gyotaku session. I'll consider this to be my first (real) fish of 2019! I reset the tip-up and returned to panfishing in 41 feet of water. With nothing on the screen, I dropped my Swedish Pimple to the bottom to stir up some sediment and get something going. Several fish soon materialized on the screen, and I teased one several feet off the bottom. That fish didn't hit, but another confidently rose off the bottom and ate my lure without hesitation. I'd caught my crappie for the day! I stayed for another half-hour or so, but nothing else happened. The long slog off the ice was weighing on me. I took a circuitous route along the lake's edge where more snow had blown off, and this was a little easier. I passed several groups of young men in hubs or collecting their gear. Would they be out there in another 30 years, or would they have perhaps moved on to other things? Perhaps I'd rather have been fishing in warm salt water. But, I think I'd successfully made some fine lemonade from the various lemons I'd been given for the day. And I like lemonade! Being a true Rhode Islander, I even like Frozen Lemonade! Pondering the questions of core essence and finding meaning in unexpected ways |
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June 2024
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