4WH Report Who, What Where, When and How. Who went fishing, what they caught, When the action took place, where they went and how they presented. See Also:The Law of Diminishing Returns
A
As good as skunked No fish worth keeping.(See Also: Keeper)
B
Bad Hand Eveleth / Ely Lake colloquialism - in a fish house, a condition that occurs when a fisherman finishes his Hamms, puts down the can, and is left with an empty hand.
e.g., "Hey, I gotta bad hand over here!"
Bait Rape When a fish takes your bait while avoiding the hook.
Bombing Run Going in to town either for a drink or to purchase off sale liquor for later consumption.
Butt F'N Cold! When it's so cold that a freshly cleared hole ices over in about 10 seconds - it can only be considered that cold when a person is angling without a shelter.
e.g., "It's not just cold, it's butt f'n cold!"
C
Crowd Three people crammed into a two person house.
"Eel Pout, Eel Pout, Eel Pout!" A chant issued by a competitive ice fisherman with the intent of magically transforming the large fish on his partner's line into a lowly Burbot. It works (Much to the recipient's chagrin) - approximately 25 percent of the time.
Extreme Old School No shelter, no electronics, Hand Auger
F
Free Range Maggot A waxworm or eurolarvae that is dropped in favor of a bite on your second line. Said creature is then free to crawl away from wherever it landed.
Free Range Minnow A minnow that becomes unhooked while landing a fish. Still alive, the crippled fish swims in confused circles in the hole until either it is retrieved, finds its way down the hole or succumbs to its injuries.
Harvey Wallbanger Any loud drunk capable of shamelessly approaching a stranger's portable shelter and engaging in a semicoherant conversation with the startled occupants inside.
Hole Hypnosis A trance-like condition induced by staring down a hole drilled into the ice, while ingesting moderate to severe amounts of carbon monoxide. Accute cases involve abrupt loss of depth perception, especially when uninterrupted attention is focused on a bobber or stike indicator in excess of 45 minutes.
Jaques Cousteau A person who owns an underwater camera.
K
Keeper Any fish capable of providing fillets larger than a vandekamps fish stick.
L
Law of Diminishing Returns, The Close friends or relatives have approximately a 50% chance of receiving an accurate 4WH Report. Strangers have virtually no chance.
Making Ice The popping and cracking of lake ice caused by expansion and contraction. Typically occurs at night or on extremely (Hardcore) cold days. (i.e., "Boy, she's really makin' ice today!")
Spoon-on-a-Stick Antique Swedish style cutting device (Not an auger proper) featuring an offset shaft tipped with a cup shaped bore.
Spud Common name for a large heavy ice chisel used for starting or creating ice holes. Also used to describe the person operating said chisel when they a) start chiseling the ice with 20 or 30 feet of your shelter or b) operate it during the morning or evening bite or other prime fishing hours.
Steve McQueen Any lake ice motorist who travels in excess of 30 MPH with little or no regard to the proximity of other anglers or property.
T
Territory Marker Those patches of 'Yellow Snow' you see out on the lake.
Tons going on in terms of my non-blog life. Overwhelmed by work, family health concerns, Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da, so on and so forth. Patiently waiting to get the data cable for my phone so I can start pulling photos off of it. I got the thing over six months ago and promptly filled up the memory. Haven't taken a picture with it in months.
Going Ice fishing tomorrow. Don't expect to catch much but plan on having a blast in the warm 36-degree weather. Not taking the house, fishing old school in the open air.
Stopped by a local sporting good mart over my lunch hour and hit the clearance racks. I picked up a nice pair of convertible pants for $15 and an ice fishing rod & reel combo for $11. Score!
I don't know how much if ever I will blog about the movie Jaws again so I will also mention in passing that this movie contains one of the best monologues of all time (Though performed by co-star Robert Shaw, not by Scheider).
Scheider was an accomplished actor who appeared in a lot of other stuff too, but I note his passing due to the formative effect that the movie Jaws had on me. I very much identified with Brody's fish out of water (No pun intended) sense of insecurity and misplacement on Quint's boat. The conflict between Quint and Hooper reminded me a lot of the conflict in my family between my two brother in-laws. In fact it was the Quint-like one who took me to see Jaws while it was running in the theater. That would have made me maybe 7 years old at the time. That's a pretty heavy movie for a second grader to try and process.
Around that same time my family had just put a temporary end to our gypsy approach to camping & fishing and had settled into a cabin on Leech lake. The cabin was owned by my sister and the Quint-like brother in-law, so much like the movie, we had the similar experience of trying to coexist in Quint's domain. And all the while I was confronted with Leech lake - this big, wonderful yet mysterious body of water, dangerous as any ocean and scary as heck to a seven year old. Local resorts and bars contained photos and mounts of enormous Muskellunge, which saturated my subconscious with fears of swimming, fishing and even boating in that lake. A bigger boat sure sounded like a good idea to me. Yet like Brody, some conflicting sense of duty and curiosity called me out on to the water to confront these hobgoblins of my mind.
Predictably, around that time I went through a brief shark craze, a lot like the kids nowadays are into dinosaurs. All my reading and attention went into studying and understanding this phantom limb of my subconsciousness, voraciously eating up books as often as I could get to a library. Then snap, the informational feeding frenzy was over and I was on to something else. It's amazing how there is always something available to personify whatever fears we are dealing with. In the movie Brody went through a shark craze too, and came out the other end alive. Thanks Roy, for helping me get through mine.
Well, we survived the big saturday fishing trip, and we brought home some fish to boot.
Unfortunately my camera was not so fortunate and died out on the lake so I only managed to get these two photos. I put us right on top of the fish as you can see in the second photo of my friend Roberto and his first crappie ever, plus the first keeper ever pulled up in my home made fish house. All said and done we kept 1 decent crappie plus three others I would have tossed back if we weren't trying to piece together a modest meal for Roberto and his kids. A little fruit off the tree is good incentive for planning another trip.
Oh yeah, I also got me a small walleye, who got sent back to grow some more. All in all it was a great trip, I even talked on the phone to one of the guys who canceled, who seemed a little dismayed to hear that not only had we NOT frozen to death but in fact we were so warm in the fish house that we had to shed clothes to stay warm, and that the fishing action was, well, active.
Some more pictures maybe later of when we got back to Roberto's house and his kids saw the fish.
Fishing plans for tomorrow were originally for 6 guys in three houses. Yesterday the two other guys with fish houses canceled because of the weather. One of the ride-alongs was similarly convinced not to go. That left me and two ride-alongs, one of whom was gracious enough to bow out, even though I could tell that it really was in his heart to go.
We Few, We Happy Few.
What's he that wishes so? My cousin Westmorland. No, my fair cousin: If we are marked to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will, I pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It ernes me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires: But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England: God's peace, I would not lose so great an honour As one man more, methinks, would share from me For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more. Rather proclaim it presently through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart. His passport shall be made And crowns for convoy put into his purse: We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is called the Feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a-tiptoe when the day is named, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall see this day and live t'old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say "To-morrow is Saint Crispian": Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars And say "These wounds I had on Crispin's day." Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember with advantages What feats he did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered. This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition: And gentlemen in England now abed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
After enduring much teasing and good-natured derision from Eric I finally got around to snapping some photos of the much-ballyhooed fish house. It's going to get some work this Saturday as I am taking a buddy out for his first ice fishing experience. Weather.com is currently predicting a high of 0 degrees that day so I guess you could call that a baptism by ice. I also took a picture of my auger (Over there, to the left) which I got from my dad when he hung up the jig sticks. It was actually my dad who inspired me to build my own fish house; I have vivid memories of watching him construct his 4' X 8' version when I was a kid.
I think my dad has inspired a lot of the behaviors I engage in that my beautiful wife finds to be simply inexplicable. Like solo hiking, building fish houses, ice fishing in general and ice fishing in sub zero temperatures specifically.
It never hurts to let your spouse think that you're a little crazy.
In my previous post I was not exactly truthful when I said that the design specifications were "contained entirely in my own head" - My notebook operates as an extension of my head. While these aren't really designs (You wont find any measurements or list of supplies here) here is a peek at my concept drawings. The fish house turned out pretty close to this except that I haven't had a chance to do the windows yet and I need to add a second vent.
I can't wait to get back out in it.
(60) Deck and Substructure (61) Front view (Radius approximate)
(62) Rear (Again radius is approximate) (63) Window assembly concepts
Just a really busy December, which is hard to fathom considering a good hunk of it was spent burning off my remaining vacation hours. Between the caroling group for my church, the son's big holiday musical, hosting a couple of holiday get-togethers and all the frantic home maintenance that goes with that, I really didn't have much time for writing.
But I DID find the time to construct a fold-up portable fish house, based on design specifications contained entirely in my own head. That included a frantic after midnight push to be ice-ready for new years day. I got skunked but one of the fellows I was with brought the first of what I hope will be many fish through the floor of my new shack (a potato chip-sized bluegill)
Hopefully some of that will make some good post material which I can post date a la the father of five style. Heck, I think I'll even post THIS for now.
Thanks again for writing and I hope that you are getting some good winter adventures of your own in!
Preamble At least once a year, usually in the fall I take a nature trip into the woods. It is my chance to clear my head, reset the scale, shock the system, pick your analogy here. Basically I get to unplug from my real life for a period of time, plug myself into some wilderness and find out just exactly who it is I am again. All this to say that I don't get out much, I guess.
This year I set my sights on a solo hiking trip into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. There are several trails available in the BWCAW, but I chose the Angleworm lake trail because it is a 14-mile loop, the distance seemed about right for an easy three day hike and based on other trip reports I had read (You can find them if you Google for them) the Angleworm truly looked like a beautiful hike.
I live a sedentary life, which is a fancy way of saying that I am a fat guy who works in an office. I knew that I would have to prepare for this trip, so I did so primarily by training on an elliptical machine in our basement that has for the most part served as a coat rack over the years. I also did a lot of stretching and a fair amount of bicycling.
In addition to physical preparation I did do a fair amount of preparation in terms of planning my gear and studying my map. In all fairness, everything that I did to prepare for the trip could probably fill a different post; I just didn't want to give the impression that I threw my pack in the truck and drove up north on an impulse.
Day 1
Getting There I'm not what you call an early riser, but with the trip at hand I was off like a shot when the alarm went off. After some last minute fumbling and a hurried good-bye to my groggy wife, I was out the door just before 5AM.
The drive was unremarkable for the first couple of hours, save for the volume of southbound early bird commuters, making their way in to the cities. I grinned and breathed a quiet prayer of thanks that I wasn't one of them. The sun greeted me just south of Cloquet and lit up the Birches that tower on the hill just west of Interstate 35. The colors were so brilliant that I was momentarily startled and feared that I may still be laying in my bed, dreaming. By 8:30 I was passing through my fellow blogger Eric's neck of the woods and by 9:30 I was refueling in downtown Ely.
As I made my way to Echo Trail I was very pleased that everything seemed to be going so well. I thought of the day's hike and imagined what sort of wildlife I might encounter. Daydreaming, I was shocked back into reality when I rounded a corner and a large bird leaped up off the road and into a nearby tree. I stopped, dumbfounded because I had interrupted the breakfast of a family of Bald Eagles. I managed to snap off a couple of shots at these shy fellows (They seemed aware of what I was doing and would move before I could get a shot off) before they were spooked off for good by some thick-faced rube who came barreling down the trail from the other direction, driving a pickup truck and wearing blaze orange. In spite of the abrupt ending I took the encounter as a good omen and moved on.
If the Eagles on the way in were a good omen, the volume of cars in the parking lot at the trail head were a bad one. The parking lot looked like.... Well, a parking lot. I was the fourth vehicle, and one person was still in the parking lot, wearing blaze orange and brandishing a shotgun. I chatted with the fellow briefly and it turned out that he would not be camping on the Angleworm but was going to hook up with some adjoining trail. Unless he meant a portage to one of the nearby lakes I wasn't really sure what he meant. I was just happy that he wasn't going to be shooting up the woods I would be sleeping in. After he headed down the trail I changed into my hiking clothing and donned my pack. I gave him a good 15 minute head start before I started down the trail.
The Hike In My initial thoughts as I walked down the first hundred yards of the trail were, "Wow! I'm finally here!" , "Wow! This is really beautiful!" and "Wow! What is all this crap I am carrying?" It did not take very long at all before I was faced with the contrast between conditioning on an elliptical and hoofing it up a hill with a pack on your back. It also became suddenly so wonderfully clear to me why exactly it makes perfect sense to shell out $200+ for a tent that weighs less than 5 pounds. I took it easy on the way in stopped as needed for breathers. During one of these rest intervals I spotted a cottontail who had frozen, anticipating that I would pass. Unnerved, he made a break for it. If I had the gun with me he would have been dinner. During another stop I was leaning against a boulder when I caught the ever-so-pleasing fragrance of skunk. From behind a tree stump across the trail I could hear the pitter-patter of small feet in the leaves. It may have just been a red squirrel (The area seemed to be the capital of their hostile little empire) but I wasn't going to wait around to find out. I continued.
I had my home made rod tube with me. It was a liability in low-clearance areas, especially around dead falls, just as I suspected it might be. All the way in I kept thinking about those other cars. My original day one plan called for me to march all the way to the northernmost campsite on Angleworm lake. The only catch was that if the campground was taken, I would have had to continue another mile or so to Whiskey Jack lake. By the time I reached the fork for the lake loop I decided to play it safe and make my way up the west side of the lake, where the campsites are more numerous. I finally decided on the second most southern campsite on the west side of Angleworm lake.
Camp Setting up camp was a breeze. Having the pack off of my back gave me the temporary sensation that I could fly like Peter Pan. The site really was nice, set on a rock ledge about 50 feet up from the lake. I sat down on the ground with my back against a boulder and ate my lunch of salami, sharp cheddar cheese and Ritz crackers. And an apple for dessert. I was assailed by a bold pair of whiskey jacks who tried everything they could think of to get food from me. They were so tame that I'm pretty sure that they would have eaten out of my hand if I had offered. After lunch I busied myself with taking pictures.
I spent part of the afternoon fishing, throwing Clouser Minnows from shore in an attempt to entice any walleyes or Northerns who may have been interested, but in all honesty I was far more content to just sit there and take in the site and sounds of the forest and the lake. I never had a strike and I gave up after I 'bat-hooked' an overhanging branch. In the end I took more pictures.
Dinner was Middle-Eastern. I fried up some falafel in a little olive oil and ate it with pita bread. I enjoyed some Turkish Coffee as an after dinner treat. I grinned to myself as I considered what kind of moron packs a copper kettle miles into the brush just for making coffee when he has a perfectly serviceable plastic press at home.
These mysteries and others I pondered as the sun set behind me and I watched the shadows slowly lengthen over the lake. When the stars came out they were absolutely brilliant. I had chosen my trip to be as close to the new moon as possible so that I would have the best look at the stars and chance to catch the Aurora Borealis. The Aurora let me down but the stars did not. I do not know for how long I gazed at them. I spend my life as a slave to the hands of the clock and for this one night I was most assuredly -- Off the clock. After I hung my food pack I climbed into my tent, changed for bed and crawled into my bag.
Sporting goods are just getting to be too darned expensive these days. Magazines and media are quietly preaching consumerism to us, leading many to think that they cannot enjoy the outdoors without spending a fortune on all the latest gadgetry. I say nonsense! To anybody out there who is as fed up with the nauseatingly stylized and commercialized industry of outdoor equipment & apparel, I want to encourage you to try making your own wherever possible!
My installment project is a very simple one. Simple but beautiful. I used 2" PVC to create this home made fishing rod tube. It's pretty self-explanatory, really. For those of you budding diy'ers who need a little more instruction, you can click here to see some other guy who did it, too. All the materials are available at your local hardware store for less than ten bucks. Mine cost an extra $2.50 because I added some extra components (See below).
What's different about mine is that I chose the the ever-more popular black PVC (I haven't let go of style completely yet). Mine needs to accommodate a two-piece fly rod that breaks down to two 50" sections, so it's pretty long. When you make yours, make it to the necessary length to accommodate your gear. If you look at the photo to the left (Click to enlarge) you will notice that I incorporated four couplers to create lash-down points. This way the tube can easily be attached to my backpack as shown. Yes, you too can look like a redneck ghostbuster! With the straps firmly set into the notches created by the couplers, the tube will not dislodge or slide around. The only issue I can see with this setup is that I am going to snag on any low-hanging trees. I will have to field test this to see how it goes.
It turns out that I am not the first person with this idea. In addition to probably many others who have done this and not written about it on the web, John Plozizka from San Jose del Cabo, Baja California Sur, Mexico did the same thing on a grander scale, using 4" PVC to transport a larger quantity of rods. I like his idea of using the stickers to personalize his creation. Kind of like how we wore those dorky little buttons in the '80's, to show everyone that we were unique, just like everybody else. Create your own fashion statement, man!
In parting, I ask you to please make sure that you know what you're doing before you try this or any other DIY project. Read the instructions carefully on any adhesives or chemicals before using. And remember to always use PVC for good, never for evil ;-)
"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke, "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke. But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate, So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."
On Saturday 08/11/2007 I went on a road trip to Northern MN to flyfish for trout. This is what I saw.
Friday night to Saturday morning it stormed. I drove north through the aftermath with lightning crackling through the clouds above me as I drove. The river was going to be muddy and I knew it. But there was nothing else to be done. My fishing day was my fishing day, and I had to take it come rain or shine.
I had several potential entry points circled on my map, and as I prowled the back country roads I happened across a whitetail family set up near the road. They gave me all the time in the world but by the time I had the presence of mind to dig out the camera and snap a photo, they were all but gone.
After exploring several of the tributaries to the Nemadji River, I finally settled on an entrance point on the river proper, where Highway 23 passes over it. There was a nice parking area that was empty, except for a fellow who was scouting for grouse hunting spots.
I wasn't much in the mood for company. It is hard enough to find a free day to depressurize once a quarter. Added to that I recently lost a cousin from complications involving a gall bladder removal. She was 43, died three days after my 39th birthday. She still is 43, and always going to be 43 from here on. I had been been easing into the mindset where I realistically know I could go at anytime, but now the 'easing' phase is officially over.
The river was muddy as I suspected. I spent a long time along the banks, watching for activity. It looked pretty dead. Given the lack of surface activity I started out nymphing, using a black wooly bugger with a strike indicator. After only a few casts I had two separate hits on my strike indicator. I quickly switched over to a #12 wolf adams and promptly hooked this little baby through the nose.
I worked the river for a few hours and that chubby little shiner was the only luck I had. I practiced my casting. I listened to the world around me, paying no mind to the occasional bridge noise in the distance.
There was no sense to be made from my cousin's death. I hadn't seen her since my mother's funeral, had scarcely even spoken to her then as there were just too many people to talk to. I had no idea that she was even having the surgery. I was not a factor in her life, nor she in mine really. And that is what the sadness is about, the guilt. The feeling that yes, we played together as kids and that somehow that childhood friendship should have carried over into adulthood. Up to now I had been able to live with the idea that there was time to make that connection, that it was ok to put it off for now. Except that now there isn't any more time.
I finally crawled up a muddy bank and set back to my truck for some lunch. There was no real trail to speak of so I bushwhacked through the forest, keeping the the river in earshot. I have humped through some tough brush in my day, and this was some of it. It was definitely not a friendly environment for a chubby guy lugging a flyrod.
After I ate I broke out the camera and explored for some good shots. Several attempts netted me some local insect life. Insects live hard and die fast. They don't have complex emotions like guilt and angst. They just get on about their business and make way for the next generation. The local plant life echoed that sentiment, as the air hung thick and sweet with the smell of pollen and nectar. Every plant and tree was in the midst of a giant bender, drunk to the gills on the rainwater from the previous night. The cicadas trilled from the treetops, like an alarm to let us know that September is coming. And when it does the nights will turn cold, and no insect plant or tree will wonder why nobody told them that it was coming.
I didn't have much heart to try the river again in the afternoon. I packed up the truck and made my way a few more miles up 23 to a scenic overlook. I have passed it a few times and never taken a picture there. Since I had the tripod with me I did a panoramic. After that I turned to the south and made my way back to my family like a homesick puppy.
... From my usual smart-ass commentary, in lieu of the 35W bridge collapse in Minneapolis last night. It may sound like a cliche, but my thoughts and prayers are with the survivors and the families of the victims of yesterday's tragedy. I was on southbound 35W taking the Stinson exit at exactly 6:00 PM yesterday. If for whatever reason I had been heading into downtown, I would have been right on the bridge when it went down.
Back in my 20's I used to fish from the bank of the Mississippi, in the shadow of that bridge. I used to relish the contrast between the busy hum of the cars passing overhead with the slow pace of catfishing. It's hard to imagine such a large structure, whose presence I have taken for granted my entire life as simply not being there anymore.
It will be more than a year, possibly several years, before things get back to 'normal' here. I don't know about anybody else but I will think differently each time I cross the river from now on.
Pictures (All 3 are Copyright of the Star Tribune):
Miskowic caught himself a pretty big walleye out on the pond a few weeks back. Right around that same time Chris was taking pictures of his thumb and Miskowic accidentally got into the background. It was my job to correct this injustice for all to see.
Another example of better living through Photoshop.
"Never get out of the boat. Absolutely right. Unless you were goin' all the way. Kurtz got off the boat. He split from the whole program. " - Willard, Apocalypse Now
Another story about roaming the woods as a kid (Briefer version originally entered as a comment in the previous post)
Near a place where we fished there was an abandoned resort, hosting a large cache of wild asparagus. In the heat of the day (When walleye fishing can get slow) my bro
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