I know there are skeptics, but there’s something to ice fishing. Admittedly, my initial opinion of the sport came from watching crazy people bundled up beyond human form sitting on buckets in the middle of frozen lakes during the nastiest weather. Ton of fun. You betcha.
That was until the “Perch Palace.” The fall before we were married Grant built an ominous looking 4'-squared, black-painted box with a little door on one side and small sliding window on another. It resembled an instrument of punishment in a bad prison movie. He assured me I would appreciate it. Ya, sure.
But he was right. Now I look forward to ice fishing in any weather. After sliding the palace to its proper location on the lake, we drill two holes in opposite corners, then slide it over top. Once it’s in place and we step inside, it is a different world. The holes gleam from the floor, and it is remarkable to see far into the clear water. I love watching the perch come to the lure, and when they inhale the bait, not just hope to feel a nibble. It’s our own private show.
What’s more lovely is the little propane heater. We keep the window slightly cracked so we don’t start seeing things, but instead of the heavy layers, we kick back in t-shirts while sacking up the perch. He was right, it didn't take me long to love it.
It’s also a good time for us to catch up with no television, radio or other distractions. We stare down the luminescent holes in the ice and talk. It’s very relaxing. (Of course, that might be from the carbon monoxide build up from the heater.) If the fishing is slow, I’ll bring something to read because once I have my hands occupied with another task, the law of the universe dictates that the fish will bite.
Another concept I learned during the first year with the ice house is perch are fine, pike are great, but don’t let a sucker grab your lure. That first time out, I was so enthralled with watching the fish in the hole, that I didn’t pull my lure out of the water when a one cruised through. I’m not saying suckers, members of the carp family, are bad. I'm sure I could find some way to cook them. They’re just terribly ugly with large scales and ominous looking mouths. Plus they tend to fight violently and make a tremendous mess.
I watched mesmerized as the sucker took the bait, but quickly realized my error when it started thrashing wildly, spraying the entire inside of the house, including us, with water. Grant took it off, because I wasn’t going to touch it. He told me I got to release the next one that I let grab the hook, so when the next one came through - “zip!” the lure was ranked out of range.
I'm really looking forward to pike fishing on the east side, but we’re going to need a bigger ice house to accommodate a spearing hole. Since my natural inclination when I have a pike on the line is to practically dive in after it, I think I’m going to enjoy spearing. It’ll also be fun to utilize tip-ups, something we didn’t use much in the Flathead, so I have a lot more to learn.