Ice fishermen had me fooled.
I had once imagined lone anglers on the ice, bracing themselves against the wind and blowing into their cupped hands for warmth on one of Maine’s isolated lakes, maybe even singing sad songs in low, solemn voices to pass the time.
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Ice fishing reality doesn’t really look like that.
There are ice fishermen and women who prefer the solitude of a frozen lake, with nothing but the white expanse of ice, a bucket of baitfish and their own thoughts to keep them company. But from what I can tell, ice fishing isn’t a lonesome sport. It’s more like a neighborhood block party.
Except in the ice fishing neighborhood, some folks own houses and some folks simply toss a stool onto the icy lawn of an unclaimed subdivision lot. Here snowmobiles, rather than minivans, ferry the essentials across the icy roads, and all the neighborhood residents have a penchant for punching holes in the ground.
It’s a small village of like-minded neighbors who’ll rap on each other’s shack doors to ask if the fishing’s good or to get in on a card game.
Last week I met with John Peterson, events manager at Kittery Trading Post, to put a few holes into the ground — or the ice, really — at Sebago Lake in Raymond.
The lake is home to the annual Sebago Lake Rotary DerbyFest, which returns next weekend; on Friday, hundreds of young ice fishermen will take to the lake for the kids derby. The Friday event helps introduce the sport to Maine kids, many of whom have never been on the ice before, according to Tom Noonan, director of the Sebago DerbyFest. Kittery Trading Post even donates rigs to the first 500 kids who sign up, so the young novices can try the sport on for size without needing to buy a bunch of equipment.
Thanks to Peterson, I had the same opportunity. And though it was two weeks before the commotion of the derby, there was still plenty of fishing going on, as evidenced by the dozen or so ice shacks visible from the shoreline at Raymond Beach.
Our first obligation was to the hole in the ice. Or lack thereof. I was open to the idea of wielding an axe and valiantly chopping my way through the ice barrier, as is sometimes done.
Instead, Peterson illustrated how a handheld ice auger worked, cranking the handle in a wide circle and driving the auger’s corkscrew blade into the ice, as though he hoped to churn the ice sheet into butter.
Within a minute, and with apparent ease, the auger dug through the foot or so of ice, creating a respectable, slush-filled hole. Simple.
I asked to give the auger a quick whirl myself, seeing how efficiently Peterson had managed to use it. And it was efficient, aside from the few times I paused to shake out my arms, which fatigued rapidly from the effort. Eventually I felt the auger break through the last obstinate inch of ice and dip into the fresh Sebago water below. Success!
The resulting hole was big enough for a foot to slip in, but nowhere wide enough to swallow a person, which is a boon for the clumsy or — ahem — imbibing ice fisherman. I used a metal scoop to excavate the excess slush, which I piled next to the hole so it wouldn’t feel too misplaced.
Peterson pulled out a wooden tip up — an ice fishing rig fitted with a spool of line and a flag. The flag is bent down and latched onto a metal hook when set up — when the fishing line is tugged, the flag shoots up, letting the angler know there’s a fish on the line. Each licensed angler is allowed to fish from five lines at a time.
Depending on the temperature, an ice fisherman may have to check on the holes frequently to ensure that the ice hasn’t started to overtake the open water again.
But essentially, once the bait is on the hook, the line dropped into the water and the tip up is set, it’s a waiting game. I’ve asked ice fisherman what percentage of ice fishing is really fishing. The responses I got were typically akin to, “Depends on who’s asking.”
The art of ice fishing is a fine balance between technique and killing time. The way a fisherman waits is purely personal. They might play cards, they might socialize, they might tip back a few beers — to keep warm, of course.
Some might use the time to decorate their ice shack in a Caribbean theme, complete with plastic palm trees. Next weekend’s DerbyFest includes an ice shack contest from noon to 3 p.m. Saturday.
Entrants have been known to let their imaginations run wild. One in particular built a 60-foot shack complete with atrium.
“It’s incredible what you see out there,” said Peterson.
“It’s amazing what you can do with sheet metal and duct tape,” added Noonan.
With a little between-fish time on your hands, that is.
Staff Writer Shannon Bryan can be contacted at 791-6333 or at:
sbryan@mainetoday.com
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