Skunked Again: Out on the ice

Ice fishing is heating up now, as Mainers across the state change the gas in their augers and incessantly ask the guy running the local bait shop where all the fish are being caught. They’re secretive, aren’t they?

I like to give my business to Mike’s Live Bait Shop, a man on Route 27 in New Vineyard on your way to Sugarloaf, just on the right after you hit a straight stretch; he has reasonable prices and his bait tends to be in good health—some shops have lackadaisical fish or shiners covered in pepper-sized black spots. These spots are actually flatworms, parasites, which have infected the fish. Although these parasites aren’t supposed to be harmful to the fish at all, maybe there is some correlation between these spots and overall vigor—I’d be interested in any expertise on the subject. Regardless, a healthy batch of bait is an excellent place to start when embarking on a good day of fishing.

If you’re embarking on a trip “up north,” think about getting your bait as close as you can to the place you are fishing in order to avoid transportation stress on the fish.

I decided I should kick off my year at a local ice-fishing hole I have mentioned plenty of times before: Porter Lake in the towns of New Vineyard and Strong. Due to its close proximity to my house, I usually go there to “work out the kinks” that are just about inevitable at the bottom of a pack-basket full of traps. On a side note: I’ve noticed over the years there are two types of ice fishermen: the type that has a basket full of identical traps (usually in fairly good condition), and then the individuals who don’t have three of the same trap. When you have 12-15 traps, that’s variety!

I’m an example of the latter category. Growing up, I’d occasionally stumble upon or purchase a trap, but usually they came as presents for the holidays. However, I can’t count how many times my brother and father have often “misplaced” their own gear in my pack basket—years of this has taught me that “Jon” Hill turns in to “Sam” Hill pretty easily with a permanent magic marker. But don’t tell him I said that.

When I arrived at Porter, I set my traps close along a shore in order to try for those beautiful 14-inch brookies the lake has shown me before. I generally like to put at least one trap out deeper to intercept a salmon traveling along the deeper sections of the shore, and though I did this, the orange flag refused to fly into the air. Even the extremely strong gusts that prevailed that day were unable to produce a flag. The traps along the shore were a different story.

Tagging along with me was my girlfriend, Kimmy, who had never ice fished before. She saw the first flag spring into the air, calling “flag!” and as I located the orange speck bobbing around I took off slipping and sliding in order to establish a full-fledged sprint to the hole. As I reached full speed on the ice, I risked a quick glance back to where Kimmy had been perched on the shore and saw her slowly making her way, taking a step at a time.

“What are you dooo-ing??” I yelled back to her, “You gotta run!” By the time she got there, I was out of breath, watching the line tug against a reel that wouldn’t spin. I spun the trap gently so that the wheel was facing the direction of the line so that the fish could continue to take the bait and run with it and Kimmy prepared for her first fish. As she grabbed the tilt she quickly noticed some tension and all of a sudden Kimmy found herself holding onto a taut line playing a good-sized fish only a few meters away.

Kimmy made a good effort to bring the fish in, but before she could set the hook, the weight at the end of the line disappeared. Although she had lost it, I reassured her, I would handle the next one, if only to show her a few tricks I’ve learned.

Although the fishing didn’t seem up to Porter’s potential, it did indeed produce some fish. While doing the casual jig along the shore I hauled in a young but healthy 13-inch lake trout and later on, a decent-looking salmon. No trout like I was looking for, but by going to Porter I had the usual good time and experienced the variety of game fish one can count on there. Not only that, Kimmy is now hooked on fishing and won’t stop bugging me to take her out again (she thinks if she went alone she’d be spinning in circles trying to use the ice-auger)- correctamundo.

Happy fishing, and if you’re unsure about the ice, drill a test hole every little ways in order to measure the thickness, or you can always wear a ladder around your waist!