Resolve Anew

Like the trophy game that hang from my wall, a picture can wield the power of story; it serves as the foundation of a moment.  The old adage a picture is worth a thousand words, but putting the words together to form a story provides the framework of the picture.

I can’t count how many friends, family, and acquaintances I’ve come across over the past couple years that say they live vicariously through the pictures I take.  “Do you ever work?!?…You’re always fishing, hunting, camping…” Yeah, I do have a day job and I’m proud of my accomplishments in it. However, I don’t want it to define me; there’s more to life than a day job.  Find an interest and give chase.  It just may transform into a passion.

I found an interest in photography two years ago.  The anecdote below is the beginning of how it turned into a passion.  I found an interest in writing recently.  The anecdote below is hopefully the beginning of a new passion…

For years my friends and I have chatted about recording our experiences in the outdoors – the prototypical “we should do this…” surfaced in conversation all the time.  It’d come up as we were waiting in between flocks of mallards in the early autumn dawn hours.  It’d come up when grabbing a warm bite in between morning and evening rifle season hunts.  It’d come up in between jigs in the ice house at last light.  It’d come up in between our last sips at closing time at a local bar. It was always on our mind.

All chat and no action.  It was time for one of us to make a conscious effort.  As we chimed the countdown for the Ball to drop on New Year’s Eve, I made up my mind – it was time to put action to those words.  A new resolve to action.

Where to begin?  It now was January, in Minnesota – quite possibly the worst time to capture anything worthwhile.  The next day a friend, Rob “The Legend” (as what we, in the self-proclaimed New Duck Hunters Association call him – more on that in future posts) asked if I’d join him at the annual Brainerd Jaycees Ice Fishing Extravaganza.  An ice fishing tourney, eh?  Why not; it’s a start in the right direction!

It turns out that the 10,000 participants at this annual ice fishing tournament make it the largest in the world – go big or go home!  I had no clue what to expect at “The Extravaganza” but it was worth the effort in hopes of claiming first prize, “A BRAND NEW TRUCK” (insert Rod’s voice from The Price is Right).

When the Timberwolves can’t even fill Target Center with an attendance of that caliber indoors, that’s a hell of a lot of people to come out to an event where the forecast called for a high of 3 degrees with winds howling from the Northwest at 40-50 miles per hour.  Crazy?  “You betcha!”

What to bring?  Warm clothes.  A thermos with hot coffee with a generous pour of Baileys – you know, to warm you up.  An ice fishing rod and reel.  Simple.  Done!

Forward to day of, my buddy, Jake and I bundled up to meet up with The Legend, who had already been out there an hour prior to mark our pseudo territory in the southwest corner.  As our chauffeur, Britt (Jake’s wife), was making the curving turn south on highway 371, my mouth quickly began to drop as each hash mark on the highway went by.

Hundreds of trucks, cars, buses, snowmobiles, RVs (you get the gist) formed a line to storm the beach of Hole in the Day Bay on Gull Lake – the site of The Extravaganza.  Thousands more people funneled out and scattered on the ice like a bunch of angry ants protecting their colony – except the ants were bloated, barely able to move their arms and legs due to the 20 layers of clothes (much like those sumo suit/costumes) they had on carrying a bucket in one arm and a cooler in the other.

Britt unloaded us at the drop zone.  Jake and I rolled out of our seats and on to the street frantically grabbing our standard gear (bucket and cooler) in each arm and strapped a camp chair over our shoulder as an added luxury.  Like the platoon sergeant, a worker manning the roadside pressed us all dispatched on the shoulder of the highway to, “Move! Move! Move!”

Move we did – well, more so, like a penguin, waddling our way down to the ice, through the check in and made our bearing over to The Legend who was sitting on his camp chair with a thermos of piping hot coffee grinning ear to ear chiming, “You guys decided to show up huh?  Why don’t yah take those holes next to mine; there’s a little hump that we can cover at different depths.  Have yourself a seat after; we’ve got some time to kill.”

A few sips from the thermos and a dozen laughs later, another 5,000 people packed in on the ice.  It was almost go time.  Anticipation grew.  Everyone was at the ready (rod or tip up in hand) hovering over their holes.  A countdown ensued, 10…9…8…

BOOM!!!  The canon resounded signaling the start of this 3 hour marathon.  Everyone let out a roar as they dropped their lines in the water.  Then silence – well there was that 50 mph howling wind – as we all dialed into our holes.

A few more sips of coffee and there erupted a band of cheers fifty yards from us.  10 seconds later a drunk sumo clad guy appears from the hoard with a bag in hand scampering across the ice.  Our group erupts cheering on this dash – fish iced!  About 40 yards later, The Extravaganza finally gave us a prime display of folly.

Running on a frozen lake isn’t the brightest, but it sure is fun – especially with some liquid courage pumping through your veins. Even more, when you’ve got a fish you just iced.  Multiply that by one million when you have thousands cheering you on as you make your run to have it registered.  Yeah, we’re not Usain Bolt, but we sure as hell know the adrenaline rush provoked when you’re making that dash in front of the figurative roaring grandstand cheering you on to the finish line. You’re invincible…

Until your heavy lugged boots grace the inevitable: an exposed patch of ice. (I’ll let you put the two and two together for that beautiful display going on in your head)

Back to fishing.  As the one hour mark ticks by, you’re fishing but to a whole new “degree”.  Sure, the name of the game is out cunning the aquatic life below.  But above is a whole new monster to deal with: a battle with the elements.

Like a sandstorm, that 50 mph wind whipping across a flat lake kicks up a lot of the loose ground – in this case, snow.  Every 5 minutes or so, your ice hole changes from 8 inches to 3 inches wide.  You get smart and begin building barriers with your bucket, cooler, and even that added luxurious camp chair. It helps for a time, but inevitably, the wind has its way.  That’s when something turned on upstairs for me.

 

B-I-N-G-O! This is the answer.  This is why 10,000 people sign up for this. Yes, winning is the sweet incentive.  But that isn’t really the reason.  There’s something that can be said about being able to really weather the elements; to really lose yourself and be caught up with your surroundings. Outside our controlled, man-made, 72 degree with 26% humidity indoor environments, there is something invigorating.  All it takes is a little breeze to spark new life into dying coals.  Taking shelter in the everyday life is all well and good.  Exposing oneself, though, rekindles the wild in us.
My question therefore is, in 20 years are you going to remember that one Saturday morning in January where you slept in an extra hour, made some coffee, and had a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios over Sports Center?  Or are you going to seize what’s out there to enjoy?

In the end we unfortunately didn’t seize any fish; however, Jake did acquire a great case of serious windburn.   Thank you Vaseline for protecting this face!