The Sissy Hole

When I was in college, my dad and I went on a fishing trip to Canada with some guys from our church.  There was a certain spot that got nicknamed "The Sissy Hole" because it was such a good producer for walleye.  The guys who went straight to that spot got ribbed pretty good by the others.  My dad found this to be pretty funny and has given the nickname to some of our fishing spots around here.  I think that it's time to officially give this title to my in-laws' lake.  While you hear about mostly mediocre outings on lakes around here, every trip to my in-laws' has been outstanding in one way or another this year.  Yesterday was no exception. 

I stepped out on the lake at about 8:30.  I had pretty good ice fishing weather.  The sky was overcast, there was just a hint of a breeze, and the temperature was hovering around freezing.  This is pretty warm by ice fishing standards.  Just enough of a chill to keep a layer of skim ice on unattended holes and put the sting on the end of wet fingers.  Overall, it was completely comfortable.  I felt like I lost 20 pounds not having to wear the extra 3 layers that the sub zero weather called for my last time out.  

Stopping at the crest of the hill that leads down to the lake, I noticed that I had it all to myself.  Loner that I am, this was a big bonus.  It also meant no fishing pressure.  When I caught that 40-incher last time, I marked the hole with a branch.  My first move yesterday was to drop a tip-up into that same spot.  Once the tip-ups were set, I went in search of the perch.  I drilled my first hole in 12 feet of water and found them immediately.  I felt pretty lucky to hit them on my first shot.  I also caught them in some kind of feeding frenzy.  Most of the time I couldn't even get my minnow to the bottom before one shot up 5 feet into the water column and grabbed it.  I found myself scrambling to get my bail flipped and line tight time and again.  I kept waiting for the school to move and for the action to slow down.  You usually run through the aggressive fish and it slows, or maybe the rest of the school gets the idea when their pals keep disappearing through the roof.  This one hole kept this kind of action up all morning.  I'd stop for awhile to let my hands warm up or to get a quick cup of coffee.  As soon as I picked the rod back up and dropped the next minnow in, the madness would continue.  I limited out and ended up culling down to 36 nice eaters.  The fish that I culled swam away to fight another day.  It's amazing how long they will live out of the water when the temperature is just right.  After being on the ice for at least a couple of hours, those fish sprang right back to life as soon as they hit the water.  

I messed around with a couple of jigging rods, one with a spoon and one with an airplane jig.  Both had big minnows on them.  When I put the Vexlar on them, I noticed that both of these big minnows were getting harassed by something down there.  I drilled a hole next to one of them and dropped in a smaller minnow.  I got slammed one more time by a nice perch.  It seemed that I hadn't necessarily drilled a lucky hole earlier in the day, but that every perch in the lake was eating anything that moved.  

I started thinking about picking up my tip-ups at around 5:30.  I had gone all day without a single trip.  Just to prove me foolish for thinking this way, that flag popped that was in the 40-incher spot.  After looking at it 153 times that day and finding it down, it gave me a nice little jolt to find it up and blowing in the wind.  The paddle was spinning nicely as I approached.  I stuck the fish while it was running and started the gentle tug-of-war.  The fish buried itself in the weeds once and I had to pull with a little extra force to bring it out.  This brief moment was slightly nerve racking.  The battle wasn't quite as epic as last time and pretty soon I guided a 29-incher through the hole.  I quickly got the hook out and ran it over by the perch to shoot the above picture.  After a few shots, I slipped her back into the lake.  

I always kind of laughed along with those guys about the "Sissy Hole," but I never quite understood the joke.  Of course you head straight to the spot where the fish are.  When most of the lakes around here, with the incredible pressure that they get, stuggle to produce, I'll come to this sissy hole every time.  Judging by the talk on the ice fishing forums in the area, a lot of guys would give their left arm to fish a lake like this one.  I don't think I'll call it the "Sissy Hole," though.  "Glory Hole?"  No, I think that means something bad.  Don't look that one up.  It will give your computer a virus.  Better get away from the word "hole."  You know what?  It doesn't matter what you call it, I'm just thankful that I have access to this little piece of heaven.  God bless the in-laws!              

  

Go With What You Know

After all that talk about chasing muskies under the ice, I'm still skunked after 2 more trips to that lake.  During my last time out, I determined in my mind that my next fishing trip would be to one of my old faithful spots.  I secured permission from my reluctant wife to spend Saturday up at my in-laws with my two oldest kids.  I called a few friends and relatives to see if anyone wanted to join us.  I got a couple of takers.  My cousins, Jared and Jeff, came out.  Jared also brought his son.  My brother-in-law Josh stopped by for a little bit, bringing along his youngest boy.

Jared and I started by putting out tip-ups along the shore in front of my in-laws' in depths from about 6 to 12 feet.  When we finished, I looked up and saw my boy heading up the stairs to Grandma and Grandpa's house.  He didn't even last 20 minutes, and I could see that he was taking off with my beef jerky.  Grandpa was heading up with him and I knew that they'd both enjoy each other's company, so it was probably for the best.  My daughter headed up shortly after, taking our bag of licorice with her.  Oh well, I could call up to them if we got into a nice fish.

We started out by piddling around in the area where we caught our perch during the last trip.  We hooked a couple, but it didn't appear that this area was going to produce like it did for us a few weeks ago.  There were a lot of fish on the flasher, but they didn't want to do anything more than sniff the minnow.  Those little green bars of light would slide up under my bait and then quickly drop back down to the solid red bottom.  Jeff was the first one to venture into deeper water.  He found some nice bluegills in 20 feet of water.  We watched as he could barely get his wax worm to the bottom before another eager gill clamped on.  One flag popped and we got a fat little bass, maybe 15 inches.  That thing was so sluggish that it didn't even take 2 feet of line out.  I'm surprised that it didn't get hit in the head by the egg sinker when it grabbed the minnow.  Maybe it did and was just too cold to care.

Just as we were getting warmed up, Jared's boy stuck his finger with a hook and then stepped knee deep into an ice hole in the ensuing panic.  I watched as Jared tried to calm his small son and then he let him know that they could go home if he wanted to.  The boy did want to go home and Jared packed up without hesitation.  That's some great fathering.  I'm pretty sure that I would have been reaching for some "win one for the Gipper" class inspiration to keep my kids out there.  I'd pull out promises of money, delicious snacks, and later bedtimes.  Anything to keep them on the ice.  My wife would definitely say that I could learn something from Jared.

After awhile, it was just Jeff and me.  I gradually inched out towards him until we were practically within arm's length of each other.  By then, he had a nice pile of gills and one nice crappie.  They had slowed down, so we both dropped small minnows down in pursuit of the perch.  We landed several in the 7-9 inch range and one 11 inch pig.  Our panfish quest was interrupted when the furthest flag away saluted.

As I headed towards the tip-up, I noticed that the handle wasn't spinning.  I figured that it was another grab and drop or maybe just the wind blowing the flag up.  I got a little closer and off it went.  The fish was taking a long run.  Had to be a pike.  I got my fingers on the line with the fish still running and gave a quick little tug to set the hook.  I gained a little ground before it took off again.  This fish made several long runs.  As I was fighting this fish, another flag tripped just 15 yards away.  I called to Jeff and he headed over.  My fish was running right at this other tip-up, so we wondered if she had pulled the line through the second tip-up's line.  We could see the handle spinning, so something was going on.  We're still not sure what happened there.  All Jeff was able to pull in was an empty hook.  No minnow, no pike.  He came over and helped me manage my line.  There was a strong wind at my back and the line was falling all over itself.  By the time the pike's runs had shortened to brief bursts close to the hole, I had knots all over the place.

The fish finally made a pass under the hole where we could get a look at her.  We saw a huge fish with a wide back.  I told Jeff that this was a big fish and maybe even a new personal best.  I had to let her pass by a few more times as the line had gone under her belly and I wasn't able to turn her head into the hole.  Finally, I got my chance and I pulled her up and onto the ice.  She started those big slow flops that monster pike make when they find themselves on the wrong side of the ice.

They had noticed up at the house that this fight was taking longer than normal, so everyone came pouring out.  I ran back to my bucket to get my mouth spreader and pliers, and also my camera, scale, and tape measurer.  This beast did turn out to be my personal best by one inch.  It was just a touch over 40 inches and weighed 15 pounds.  We took several pictures with several cameras and phones and back into the hole she went.  I held her for a minute before her fins began to move.  Then she started gaining strength and her whole body began to slowly wave back and forth.  She finally pulled free with a strong surge and disappeared back under the ice to find a quiet weed bed to rest in.

Figuring out new water and unmastered fish is definitely part of what makes this sport so enjoyable.  When some of those experiments don't work out, at least not right away, it's really good to have those spots and fish that you know and that produce.  There's a reason they're your favorites.  I just got a 40-inch reminder with big teeth.  Point taken.