First Day Ice Fishing

He woke before the alarm, before the rain, before the dawn, and much before me. He started coffee brewing, got dressed and organized, then woke me with the wondering words, “You ready?” I kept my eyes shut. Something like “yes” was lost in the groans of a loud stretch. I tried to get my groggy brain to stuff my groggier feet into the boys size 4 duck boots found at a thrift shop just for this occasion. It was then, with my bed-head hair drooping over my boot laces that I noticed how huge his boots were . . . as they waited . . . upside down . . . by the door. I sighed as I pulled myself up right.

“You ready?” “We’ll see,” was all I could say. The kitchen clock said 6:06 Am as we plunged into the damp darkness. A turkey clucked close by reminding us that time had sprung us all forward. Days were longer now, and turkey season was soon upon us. But today we would focus on this past season’s end, enjoying it as much as possible. “Do you think it will rain or snow?” I asked. “We’ll see,” was all he would say. Too dark to see the sparkle in his eyes, his voice gave away the mocking chuckle.

The trip took longer than I expected, but maybe that it was due to the lack of street lights and head lights; it was darker than I expected, and darker means more uncertainty. The coffee encouraged me to pay attention to each dim detail coming clear in gray scale. Then headlights flashed on and off, down a hill to our right. We swung in beside them and backed up to a boat ramp at the reservoir called Beachwood Lake. Jumping out to greet the others, Steve introduced his cousin, Hucky, and Hucky’s son, Tim. They stood with coffee mugs and hooded rain gear making me feel like I fit right in.

With sleds full of gear in tow, they walked to the water’s edge where liquid darkness gurgled between the rocky shore and the frozen ice capped. “The rule is,” Steve said “know your lake. And bring rope just in case!” He laughed. I didn’t. “You just have to keep testing and testing, because you never know when there will be a spring up ahead or right under your nose.” He smiled and poked my nose as though I were one of his fourth grade students. Then I had to laugh. With great strides they started out across the frozen lake.

Eventually Steve turned to check on my progress and laughed out loud, “Love that penguin waddle!” I stopped to rest. Laughing at myself, I stood up straight to take a deeper breath. I had been tensing my muscles and holding my breath far too long. Finally we were out in the middle of the lake setting up camp, as it were, sipping coffee and telling stories.
I considered it a privileged to sit and cogitate with a wildlife management specialist turned fourth grade teacher and a dairy farmer turned politician with his son listening, full of eager potential. As light crept though the wintry cloud cover, the sun peeked out just long enough to warm us up and coat the ice with sparkling silver tones reminding me of some old photographic process, or the mercury in an old thermometer. Finally able to bask in silver light, I committed myself to a deeper appreciation of every bit of the Sun’s gentler affections.

“Tip up!” someone yelled. As Steve jumped up to get his camera, I unwrapped myself from wool blankets and pulled my achy-ness up and out and into a scurry across the ice to take a peak. The glimmering detail of a multi-colored perch, “up close and personal,” is more incredible than I could have imagined. After a debate about which ones to keep, the elegant beauty slipped through Hucky’s big calloused hands and across the silvery circle of ice. Without pass port or visa, she disappeared into the deep black darkness, where, in her own vibrant world, many lives thrive beneath the face of our winter’s bleakness. Apparently, this experience is more about holding a live creature and enjoying the closeness of her beauty, than about weight, or length . . . or even supper.

At least that is what I thought till the big one came along! Then did the stories fly!?! It happened like this: Steve was experimenting with one flag that kept freeing itself from its delicate latch on the flotation device, assuming it was being set off by the wind, but when he began to pull the line up to check the bait, he was looking down into a cavernous, wide open mouth! Instinct took over as he thrust his hand into that cold water and into that big boy’s mouth! Gripping firmly to one jaw, he pulled up a 21 inch, 4 ½ Lbs bass! It was a one eyed grandpa who gazed back at us. His muscle-y body slapping against the wind as Steve held him up. “It must be hard for such an old grandpa to avoid getting caught with only one eye!” exclaimed Hucky. “What possessed you to grab him with your bare hand, Steve?” “It didn’t take but a second to realize that big daddy could not be caught with my tiny size 10 hook, so I took a chance! Can’t hurt to try!”
In the end, beside the big bass, Tim and Hucky took home two brook trout to eat, and Steve kept two little brookies for his fish tank. That, they consider is a successful and satisfying day.









As I sat myself down near a blazing wood stove with a plate full of fish, coleslaw, and a baked potato, grateful to a one-eyed grandpa for living well enough to supply such a pile of protein, vitamins, minerals, and those amazing amino acids. “I do hope I steward well all the energy you have be-gifted me,” I said to his memory as I wiped my mouth on a left over party napkin calling out “Happy New Year!” The message reminds me to be grateful for all I that have learned so far this year. Knowing full well that not one of us can stop ourselves as we spring ahead of everything we ever knew. So we might as well give in, learning to live well, while falling in, with the rhythms of the seasons in these beautiful endless mountains.

What have I learned my first day ice fishing with the endless mountains’ man?

Our stories give us courage to face all we have yet to learn!

So Go Endless!
ASAP

For more information or to visit the Endless Mountains' Man,
Email: RuthAnnPurchase@gmail.com