How did you get started ice fishing?

[Fergus Mor McErc]

I grew up hunting ducks and grouse (I've kept a hunting journal since '67) and fishing open water but my father never ice fished or deer hunted so both pursuits I had to take up on my own. Both first times were with friends as soon as I turned 16 and got a drivers license and some freedom.

My first time ice fishing was on one of the Chisago lakes (can't remember which) with a buddy and his older brother and their dog. On the ice we were all crammed into a 4x8 portable and on the way home we were all crammed into the front seat of the older brothers El Camino because of a broken down pick-up truck. It was a blast and I've loved ice fishing ever since. I'd much rather sit in my ice house than my boat.

[Farley]

The very first time I went ice fishing I was about 5 years old, my grandpa, one of his friends and me went out to find where my uncle and his buddies were fishing becasue they supposedly were catching nice fish. So we started walking out there and I broke through that crust of ice right on the very edge of shore, not even a foot out into the water and my foot was in a half a inch of water and I remember being so scared to walk out there but my grandpa made me and I am glad he did. I think my uncle had holes drilled for us because I dont remember that part but I do remember standing hunched over the hole with my hands on my knees staring at the bobber, not wanting to take my eyes off it and when that bobber would go down my heart would start to beat faster (still does now) and I'd grab that jiggle stick and run as fast as I could in any direction possible yelling "I got one, I got one, I got one". All my uncles buddies were rolling on the ice laughing all day long. I think they had as much fun watching me as I did catching fish for the first time. That was the most fun I've ever had ice fishing and still remember it like it was yesterday.

[Squid]

There isn't a specific date or time that comes to mind, I just grew up ice fishing. My dad worked road construction in the summer and was home very seldom. In the winter he had plenty of time so I was able to tag along with him as we went both spearing and angling. Some of my earliest memories are from angling with my dad, uncle and cousins for walleyes on Ottertail Lake. I even remember the old warden Krueger following us home one night just to check our catch (we were legal).

A few years later we moved to DL and I adopted my dad's old 4x6 spearhouse for angling. Those were the days. I walked well over a mile from our house to the fishhouse, a gunny sack of split wood over the shoulder. When I got there my first chore was to take the old spud bar and hack out a couple of holes (I usually kept my minnows in an old coffee can suspended down the hole on a wire). Next the fire had to be lit. Ah, yes, wood heat. Once you got it started and the smoke cleared most of the time you alternated between sitting in a sauna or freezing to death. My "rig" consisted of a spool of line on on a nail on the wall. Simple but I always remember having a gunny sack of fish to take back home at the end of the day.

Once I graduated from high school I joined that Navy and saw plenty of blue water but no hardwater. It wasn't until 7 years ago that I returned to my roots, only to find out that ice fishing had under gone quite the transformation. Now I have all the toys but the thrill of watching a bobber go down is still the same as when I was a kid. Thanks Dad!