fuck it. a group of fellas down here get together every tuesday to tie flies in raekwon's basement. hmmmm. lets take that action out on the ice and look for a walleye bite.
raekwon is an amazing cook. his cast iron is perfectly seasoned for the job at hand.
authentic local polish food. kielbasa and pirogues. full stick of butter. fat on fat ends up on my fat.
it rained. we spent time in the eskimo. english jon brought out a bottle of scotch. he was amazed to stand on ice, it was pretty cool to see a fella from across the pond get basics on ice fishing. when we exited the shanty and smoke come pouring out we blink our eyes into the fog at what once was the lake and is now only fog. jokes are joked that we couldn't see our trap lights go off if they did so due to the pea soup. upon pick up, 3 flags are up and unreliable trap lights are sort of blinking.
and the clocks spring forward and maybe you can smell spring in the new length of afternoon. so you tap trees and the sap flows for a day and freezes solid.
dump run visit to the local for shits and giggles. but nobody seems to live here no more and the true worry is what februarys anchor ice did to all the bugs. and you won't know until you know. lesser worry, more likely, i'm just a poor fly fisher and can't remember nothing about a mend. wait? mend? you don't just drill a hole and cast it in there and sit around like a moron waiting?
so fuck it. i'm almost on a roll now. back of my truck stays packed with shitloads of ice gear.
breakfast time.
just a pair of weird disembodied eye balls staring at you. you should probably eat them.
there are some nice bass in this lake but all i kept hearing in my head was the super fucking annoying dick vitale scream out "PICK CITY BABY! ANOTHER PICKEREL!" and my bracket bombs everywhere so somebody gets sixshittyflies.
when they feel big......
break time. oddvocado / tomato / corn / black bean / olive oil / balsamic
aha!
jig up some better baits.
of course it starts snowing which makes the already slick ice stupid slick. taking 1" steps back to the truck i eat it twice and curse as loud as i can into the snow. for fucks sake can we get some fucking spring?
ace wife makes corned beef and cabbage for me to eat when i get home cold and sore. not so angry anymore.
no. no spring. come on buddy, you and me going ice fishing.
some sledding before my boy gets too cold. the terrible march wind.
wife scoops him up. my truck is filthy with the stench of bait and stuffed to the sagging roof with ice gear. wife says he's asleep for a nap before his head hits the pillow, take your time getting home. i'll pick it all up in a few......
now zoned in.
aha!
the edges getting soggy. but the main body of ice? still 2feet thick.
what? tuesday again? yeah one more fucking time, but thats it.
passing time waiting on the magic hour, which this far past the border is later and later into the hours of the day.
cute.
we just keep waiting for spring.
and keep waiting for flags, that last night....never showed up. but raekwons cast iron did.
ribs. amazing ribs.
extra pickles.
and later, pirogues again.
and no one wants to break it down since its so fucking cold out at 2am. so we sit in the eskimo and keep the stove on low. and we wait there for the spring. which never comes. so we eventually break it all down again and its still out there stinking up the truck.
