Wintry Exposure
Winter is a different experience on a frozen lake at the northernmost point in the 48 states
It may be hard to grasp this, but some people haven鈥檛 yet had enough winter. At least they hadn鈥檛 had enough by late last month.
My wife was one of those who couldn鈥檛 grasp it, and her observation summed it up. 鈥淒o you realize you are going in the opposite direction of 99% of people traveling this time of year?鈥�
鈥淚 hadn鈥檛 thought about it that way, but you鈥檙e right.鈥�
That exchange followed a disclosure that my friends and I were dissatisfied with our ice-fishing during the 2-week window of safe ice we鈥檇 enjoyed in mid-January, the longest span to grace southwestern Pennsylvania waters in several winters, and that friend Eugene Gordon, of Mt. Braddock, and I were headed to Lake of the Woods, Minnesota to extend our ice-angling prospects.
Lake of the Woods is as far north as you can go in Minnesota. Winter there is something quite different from our version here. On Minnesota鈥檚 map, that 鈥渂ump鈥� protruding into Canada embraces Lake of the Woods. Angle Township, a Minnesota community on the lake鈥檚 northwest shore, is the northernmost location in the contiguous 48 states, and the only lower-48 point north of the 49th parallel.
The lake is big, irregularly shaped but roughly 70 miles long and wide. It has 65,000 miles of shoreline and boasts more than 14,000 islands. It鈥檚 the sixth largest lake (after the Great Lakes) at least partially within U.S. borders. I didn鈥檛 know any of this before we ventured there, which proves the benefit of occasionally leaving your comfort zone to travel.
Lake of the Woods is also known as 鈥淲alleye Capital of the World.鈥�
But two infrequent ice-fishermen from western Pennsylvania could never access this huge lake鈥檚 fish without help from an outfitter. So, we signed onto a promotional trip with Ballard鈥檚 Resort at Baudette, MN that provided travel from Minneapolis, cabin lodging, meals, bait, basic tackle, and, most importantly, travel across the lake to a heated 鈥渇ish house.鈥�
Travel is by what they call a 鈥渂ombardier.鈥� These are everywhere, growling across the lake from various outfitters and camps. They鈥檙e about the size of a mini-bus, fitted with skis on the front and tracks, like a 鈥榙ozer, at the rear for propulsion.
Bombardiers are fast. They have to be on a 70-mile lake. Kicking up a cloud of snow-spray, and trailing twin plumes of exhaust, they look like plunging sand-worms from Dune as they buck and bounce across the fractured, drifted surface.
We bucked along for an hour each day to our fish-house about 30 miles north of Ballard鈥檚 base-camp at the mouth of the Rainy River. It鈥檚 disorienting to cross a frozen lake out of sight of land. It could be another planet, jagged shards thrust upward and snow-dunes snaking away to the horizon. The wind never relents.
I鈥檒l admit that I鈥檇 envisioned shunning the fish-house and 鈥渢oughing out鈥� the weather on the open lake. Forget that. Unless you are one of the very few humans alive today hardened to Arctic life outdoors, this fantasy wasn鈥檛 possible. During our stay, morning temperatures were -26 F, and wind chills at -60 F. Venturing outside the fish-house was a little like astronauts leaving their capsule to space-walk鈥搚ou better be able to find your way back. Fortunately, the weather was clear despite the cold. The bombardier driver told us when the wind blows in a snowstorm on the lake, you can鈥檛 see two feet ahead. He had a GPS unit to lead him back to camp in case of a whiteout.
That made the austere and rustic fish-house not only inviting but life-support, with its hissing propane heater (there was ample safe ventilation through the ill-fitting door).
Inside the house were eight holes drilled in the 36-inch ice. Minnesota rules allow only two lines per angler, so we dropped down four lines with pink-and-white jigs spiced with minnows.
Eugene and I both wished we could have reached the spot earlier each morning because immediately on arrival we reveled in a brief but hectic bite of truly 鈥渏umbo perch.鈥� I know what we consider a 鈥渏umbo perch鈥� back here, so these Lake of the Woods perch were 鈥渏umbo jumbo perch.鈥�
These were gorgeous fish. Long, deep, broad, and hyper-girthed, burnished gold streaked by olive bars, all set off by fiery orange fins.
After that flurry, the bites were spaced but steady. We caught lots of sauger and learned to distinguish those from smaller walleyes.
Big walleyes were more elusive, but Eugene got into them at the very end of the trip. We could hear Ballard鈥檚 bombardier growling closer to retrieve us when he got a heavy bite.
鈥淭his feels like a good fish.鈥�
A moment later it was off due to a pulled knot on a lodge-provided rig. He had trouble maneuvering another big one through the 3-foot ice tunnel and it wriggled free just before exit. Finally, as the bombardier pulled up outside, Eugene iced a beautiful walleye that fell within the Lake of the Woods slot limit and so had to be released. We slapped it quickly against the ruler on the wall and read a crude 23 inches. I believe it would have registered more if we鈥檇 taken the time to straighten it out against the rule.
Spring is welcome in western Pennsylvania any time now.
Ben Moyer is a member of the Pennsylvania Outdoor Writers Association and the Outdoor Writers Association of America.