For some, fishing is a hobby. For hardy ice fishermen of Sebago Lake, it’s a passion. Every day, stormy or not, men are fishing for, and sometimes catching, togue.
On the lake, these men, known as hard-water fishermen, link two completely different worlds. Above the ice, man has his inventions of convenience such as fish shacks, snow machines and power augers. Below is a world of quiet coldness where togue and salmon compete for a limited supply of smelt.
These hard-water fishermen, with lines dropping 60, 80 or 120 feet below, link these two worlds through a hole big enough to scoop up one of these fishy competitors.
Last winter, I walked out onto the ice of Lower Bay to talk with some of the men who fish these hard waters.
One of these men, a retired paper mill worker, told me he fished every day at one of his “secret” sites on the lake. Sitting on a white, five-gallon bucket, he held a three-foot rod he called a “jiggin’ stick,” giving it a jerk every few seconds so the togue could see his bait. He said the best fishing was when the sky was overcast or stormy.
Another retiree came along to discuss the day’s fishing. From him, I learned that while it’s a pretty sure bet Jordan Bay and Lower Bay will freeze over, the Big Bay of Sebago completely freezes only once every five years or so.
He owns a fishing shack that he moves around, and says most ice fishermen relocate their shack every day. If the wind is down, they will sit out in the open on an overturned bucket, or on a snow machine.
Ice fishing is one of those pastimes folks look forward to each year. It’s a chance to see old friends and visit. Whether or not any fish are caught is “the luck of the draw.”
Most of the men I talked with were local, but one man, orginally from Colorado, has a little advice for those thinking of ice fishing: “Persistence breaks resistance.”
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