Frozen head fishing

One of the first riddles I was asked when I arrived in Canada was, "A man builds a shelter with all four sides facing south. A bear walks by. What is the colour of the bear?" 

This is a somewhat easy question for any scout to answer, so I gave the correct reply but I knew right then that after living all my life in the tropics, fishing would be different in this new and seasonally frozen land. Luckily for me, almost the entire team I played hockey with in Tanzania were already settled in Toronto and all were willing to integrate me into their weekend activities. My team mates and even some of my former hockey rivals called to ask if I was game, whenever they were going out fishing. 

Fishing in Ontario in summer is almost the same as fishing in Tanzania. The only difference is that every now and then, a game warden will pop up to ask you for your fishing license. Fishing in the other seasons is something altogether different. Henry David Thoreau said, “Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.” Much as I like Thoreau, I doubt if he knew about fishermen in Canada's frozen north. I believe that all those who go fishing in subzero temperatures, do not know what they are looking for. 

My old fishing friends had many stories about the absurdities and dangers of ice fishing and I was told to shake off any urges to try it. I was still newish when, one Monday morning, I read about the early ice break up on the lakes that winter. Wayward floes – with ice fishermen's huts on them – had been pushed by the winds into the Great Lakes and the Canadian Air Force sent half its helicopters to rescue the two hundred or so weekend fishermen. The issue was newsworthy because all the fishermen refused to be rescued on a Saturday. They had rented the fishing huts for the weekend and told their rescuers to return on Sunday evening to complete their mission.

 

That same summer, my favourite Pope - John Paul II - arrived in Toronto and was taken fishing on Lake Simcoe, which is a short drive away. This was the person with the Piscatory Ring, so I speculated that fish at Lake Simcoe would be plentiful thereafter. When the local papers started reporting record sized fish that winter, I decided it was time to take another item off my bucket list and experience fishing with burning ears and a top heavy, frozen head. 

 

The first thing to know is that it takes eight inches of ice to support the weight of a car. The second handy bit of knowledge is that the ice first begins to thin by the shoreline. The other fact that you have to be concerned of, is that your car is not insured for off-road driving. If it gets into a mishap while on a half frozen lake, you bear the consequences of your decisions.

 

I thought that a camp named “Ice Station Zebra Mussel” deserved a visit so I rented a teepee there. The camp was a kilometer from the shore on an inlet that was two kilometers wide, ten kilometers long, perfectly flat and which – as I was warned with pictures - the ice ended at an abrupt edge. I was told that a series of upside-down hockey sticks, planted in the ice twenty five meters apart, would point me to the white teepees of the camp. The blades of the hockey sticks would be painted a luminous colour and luminous orange would lead to my teepee.

When I got to the boat ramp that was the entrance/exit to the lake, I saw a flat area of about twenty square miles where there was nothing but ice. Your could not see the other side of the lake nor could you see where the ice edge on the lake was. The glare on the ice/snow was ten times worse than the glare of a white sand beach. Then I noticed that there were a dozen vehicles parked by the ramp. These vehicles should have have been parked by the teepees, so I guessed there was a problem. I looked again at the ramp and saw that the very bottom had slush over the ice as the ice was melting there. There also were deep holes in the ice caused by spinning tires struggling to get out of the lake. To add to all this, visibility was getting worse due to an approaching storm.

Oh, just in case you haven't yet solved the riddle, the bear would be white in colour as the only place where everything points south is the north pole. 

The temperature gauge in my car was displaying 30C inside and when I stepped out, it felt three degrees colder than the North Pole. I then noticed a police sign warning that a bear was sighted in the area the previous day. Now, I can easily outrun a bear - for the first hundred meters. After that, the bear is sure to win. I figured out that if the bear seen in the area was white, it would probably be too late when I saw it and I definitely would not be able to run to the safely of my car, if it was parked on the shore. As I pondered my situation, my thoughts gradually shifted to the bright coloured lights and trilling sounds of Casino Rama. 

Casino Rama is on First Nations territory and is a favourite among Goan retirees in Ontario. The casino was just a few kilometers away and I reasoned that if the Pope had blessed the lake and its surrounds properly, the divine sanctions ought to extend a few meters off the shoreline, into the casino and onto all Catholics there. So I changed my intentions and headed for the pits of debauchery. 

However, after a few minutes of driving, I had to turn around as I saw my first billboard without words. The billboard just had a picture on it - of a chicken. 

 

Fish are somewhat lethargic during the winter, bites are barely perceivable and more so when you have thick gloves on. Ice fishing rods are short, usually less than a meter long. These rods are placed on holders that are set up so that the slightest bite triggers a mechanism that pops up a red flag. The other piece of special equipment required is a twenty liter plastic bucket to sit on. When this equipment is properly set up, you can monitor a few fish holes in your vicinity. As you sit there, you slowly become numb and start asking yourself existential questions. When the wind really starts blowing, you move into your shelter and try your level best to thaw out.

When I entered my teepee I saw two rods with lines in the water. The tips of the rods were bouncing as though there were a dozen fish on it. My heart skipped several beats and I grabbed the first rod and fervently started rolling up the line. The catch seemed heavy, giving a nice resistance. I finally got it to the surface only to find six fish, pickled, in a glass jar. A small plastic card attached to the hook provided the phone number of someone whose service was to deliver all supplies to the huts. The second line produced a five centimeter bottle of liquid. When opened, it magically turned to fire-water. There was no note on that line but the message from the bootlegger was clear.

 

Attached to the inside of the teepee was a flyer advertising a fishing competition that weekend. If I know anything about fishing, it is that beginners luck is usually the biggest factor. So I called and the responder read out a list of prizes, with the top ones worth several thousand dollars. She then told me that the biggest prize that day was for the person who caught the fish closest to a length that would be drawn out of a hat at the end of the day. She added that any fish caught in the one hour left of competition would probably be the winner, as no one had logged in a fish yet.

 

A few hours later, someone hollered and enquired if I was ready for ice hockey. When the bites slow down, Canadians start a game of ice hockey. It is believed that the thuds of the players on the ice get distorted and sound like mating calls to the fish below. All pike within hearing distance will arrive at that spot and those red flags soon start popping. People play hockey while keeping an eye on their rods. Ice fishing/hockey are the only activities I know off where you can take part in two sports at the same time.

The rules of the hockey game were that there were no boundaries. An open air fire pit would provide a constant supply of boiling hot water for the players. The goal posts were two buckets placed upside down and just far apart so that a frozen fish head – which was the puck – could pass through. If the buckets got accidentally kicked, the goal widened to wherever the buckets stood standing. I was appointed goaltender and soon figured out that my goal for the day, believe it or not, was to impede people from kicking the bucket.

I was overjoyed the next day when they announced at the fishing lodge that I had won a prize. I was hoping that the prize would be an extra warm pair of gloves or a thick woolen hat, but I got a large cheque instead. Since there were no qualifying fish for many of the predetermined categories, the organizers made up fun categories for the few fish brought in. I won the prize for catching the fish with the most stripes.