Originally published in the February 2007 edition of On The Water.
It was time to head north. First ice is always the best fishing of the year, and that day we were targeting bass. One of my favorite spots is a setback on a river in northern Massachusetts. Out of the influence of the current from the main river, it is a sanctuary for everything that swims in those waters. The panfishing is spectacular with plentiful perch, crappie and bluegill, and the bass are enormous. I honestly can’t remember a trip without icing at least one 4-pound bass. On that morning Paul and I had driven nearly two hours to get to this slice of heaven. I look forward to this trip every year and we were finally there. Back home in Connecticut there wasn’t any safe ice yet, at least nothing that produced anything more than stunted perch. But up there the ice always forms a couple of weeks sooner, so I gladly purchased my Massachusetts license and made the trek.
As I opened the door to the truck and stepped out into the cold air, my canine fishing companion Garth, a black Labrador retriever, decided he had waited long enough and bounded over the back seat onto the front and out the door. It was just starting to get light out, and the air was crisp and wonderfully still. Garth checked the area out while Paul and I began to dress for a day on the ice. Five minutes later, the sled was loaded with the day’s gear, food and bait, and we were dragging it down the dirt road with Garth leading the way.
Like anywhere you ice-fish, the edges of the ice here are always a bit thinner, especially early and late in the season. The water is shallow, and the sun warms the bottom just enough for ice thickness to be a concern. With this in mind, I used my spud bar to probe around the edges looking for enough ice to support my weight. I could plainly see that just 10 feet off the bank the ice quickly thickened as the water got deeper, but there just wasn’t any way to get to it. We decided to move down the bend along the shoreline to the south shore of the setback. With the sun low in the southern horizon during the winter months, there is very little direct sunlight on any shoreline that faces north. Coupled with the presence of a grove of tall pine trees, I knew there would be constant shade there and that would give us our best shot at getting on the ice.
It’s no fun pulling a weighted sled along bare ground for any distance, and by the time we got to the tree line I had removed my jacket, hat and gloves. The cold spud bar felt good in my overheated hands as I poked the ice. Eureka! It took two stabs to break through. I gingerly stretched and set first one foot on the ice then the other. No cracking and much thicker ice just five more feet away. I carefully probed with the spud bar every couple of feet to verify the ice was indeed getting thicker and made my way out toward where we wanted to fish. It quickly became evident that we would be able to set up exactly where we had hoped since the area was covered in a uniform 4 inches of crystal-clear black ice. Paul followed with the sled, and we began drilling our holes for the day.
I always drill more holes than I think I’ll need, just to get it done and out of the way. By doing this, we can spread out our tip-ups across different depths and bottom types. Then if one area starts to out-produce another, we can begin to concentrate our tip-ups in that area without spooking wary fish by drilling new holes with the power auger. All of the gear gets pulled off to the periphery of the tip-up spread, and we stay away from the area as much as possible. This is especially important when fishing shallow water on first ice because typically it is very clear. Without the benefit of snow cover, fish scatter quickly when a shadow is cast across their paths and you can push them from your area. This can make jigging a difficult proposition but tip-ups are no problem if you fish wisely.
An hour or so later we had a few-dozen holes cleaned out and sounded. Then we set up our five lines each and the wait began. But the great part about this setback is that you never have to wait long, and this day was no exception. We enjoyed a steady pick of flags, mostly from perch but with a few good-sized bass in the mix to keep us motivated. In between flags, I slid ice chunks across the ice for Garth. He never tires of the game. There have been days when he literally ran all day long, to the point where he was so tired and stiff after the long ride home that I had to pick him up and help him out of the truck. That day, with a perfectly flat sheet of new ice, the chunks seemed to slide forever. Just to make the game fair and give the chunk a chance at escape, Garth would be made to sit and wait for the chunk to become a speck on the horizon before the OK command was given. Ice dust erupted under the dog’s feet as he raced off in pursuit. The chunk never came back the same size of course, but it was thirsty work for a hard-working Lab!
We made the rounds, tending to the tip-ups to clear the holes of ice build-up and to check for lively baits on the hook. Garth made it known that he was bored and danced around excitedly as we returned to the chairs. We built a small fire to sit and relax around and then it was time to start breakfast. I figured I’d keep Garth busy for a while with an extra-large chunk this time. With the spud bar, I cut one that I knew was too big for him to simply pick up and bring back 30 seconds later. He sat by my side as I slid it across the ice like an Olympic curler, not wanting to break the ice by heaving it too hard. Once released, Garth took off like a shot and eventually caught up to the chunk. This time he found that he couldn’t pick it up in his jaws. Paul and I shared a hearty laugh as the dog stared at the chunk, then back at us, then back at the chunk, missing the humor in it all. Not to be outdone, the dog began pushing the chunk back toward us with his nose! But the size of the chunk with its odd angles made it difficult to steer, and soon Garth was having more fun just pushing it around and batting it with his front paws. We got the stove out and going and began unpacking the eggs. Garth was still chasing the chunk around off in the distance, but he was starting to wander closer to the main stem of the river, too close to open water for my liking. I yelled to Garth and waited the couple of seconds that it took for my voice to travel the quarter of a mile to him before he spun around and snapped to attention. “HEEL!” I shouted. Without hesitation, Garth started the long trot back to us, and I returned to the steaming pile of scrambled eggs on the stove.
There is nothing like a hot breakfast cooked on the ice to really get the day kicked into high gear. The sun was still low on the horizon, the expanding ice was booming all around us, blue jays were raising a ruckus on the shoreline, and best of all we had already iced a mess of fish. Does life get any better? I think not!
As we sat down to eat, I picked a piece of bacon to toss to the dog – but where the heck was he? I stood up and looked around and saw no sign of him. Very unusual for Garth, he never wanders away. I began to get a bit worried. After a couple of shouts of his name and no rustling of brush on the shore to announce his return, I took a better look at our surroundings. Sure enough, there he was in the frigid open water of the river. Even from my distance, I could see that he was struggling and very scared.
“Maybe I could reach him if I lie on my stomach,
I thought. As I ran back toward him, I saw how big
his eyes were and how quick and short his
breathing was. He was still whining and clearly
terrified and now he was getting tired.”
I swore and began sprinting in his direction. In his panic, he was only concerned with making a straight line towards his master and protector and not able to think of any alternatives. “Garth, you bonehead,” I thought as I continued running, trying to figure out what to do next. Not too much past Garth, I could see shoreline that faced to the south. With an unimpeded warm sun and moving water, there was no ice there. Garth was completely vertical in the water now with his front feet splashing noisily. He simply could not understand why I ran right past him at an angle to the shoreline, and his crying intensified. If I could just get to the shoreline, I could get him to swim along the edge of the ice and right to my feet on the open shore. What other choice did I have?
Fifty feet from shore, I came to a sliding halt as the ice around me began to spider. Now what? There was no way to get to shore! I headed back to the west a bit but soon realized that it was the same place we had tried to get on the ice earlier. I could hear Garth howling now as I ran with my back to him. I can’t imagine what was going through his mind at the time. I turned and looked back at him and could see that he was sitting much lower in the water now and the splashes were not nearly the geysers that they had been. DAMN! I don’t have time to get to the shore. I needed to do something NOW!
Maybe I could reach him if I lie on my stomach, I thought. As I ran back toward him, I saw how big his eyes were and how quick and short his breathing was. He was still whining and clearly terrified and now he was getting tired. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew it was now or never. Still running, I began stripping clothes off, and by the time I got to within 20 feet of him, I was down to my underwear and turtleneck. I got down on the ice with tears in my eyes and began crawling toward Garth, all the while talking to him as calmly as I could. This might just work! I was only five feet from him. But as I crawled another foot closer, I could see the water push toward me as the ice slowly sank under my weight. Two feet to go now. SPLASH!
At first I couldn’t breathe, and I damned sure couldn’t touch the bottom. Garth was still in a panic and was trying to climb over my back to escape sure death. Every time I hoisted my torso onto the ice, it gave way. Trying my best to stay calm, I thought that if I kept breaking my way toward thicker ice I could haul myself out, but it just kept breaking. By this time I was numb, no pain, no cold – just numb. I kicked with all my might and kept trying to get my chest onto the ice, but it just wouldn’t hold my weight. It seemed like forever that I was in the water, and all this time Garth was trying to use me as a ladder. Finally, I reached ice that would support my upper body. I laid there for a second, catching my breath, thinking about what to do next. Garth was alongside of me now. Without looking back, I reached behind me with my right hand and by some small miracle felt the dog’s collar. I heaved with everything I had and somehow tossed him onto the ice but put myself back in the water.
With Garth now safe, I remember us staring at each other barely two feet apart for what seemed like an awfully long time before I snapped out of it. “One last time,” I said and again kicked and pulled at the same time and got my chest up on the ice. This time I was able to kick and raise my right leg up high enough to get the inside of my knee on the ice. From there I had enough leverage to pull my entire body onto the ice. At this point I had the presence of mind to not attempt to stand but instead roll. I kept rolling all the way back to my hat, which was the last article of clothing to come off. Garth seemed to be fine and shook himself off while I ran around to gather my clothes, soaked, nearly naked and barefoot. At some point during my clothes collecting, I remembered realizing that I was bleeding from a few places and thought it odd that it didn’t hurt. In all of my thrashing in the water with broken chunks of ice floating all around me, my shins were pretty cut up and I was missing four toenails.
Now, you might be wondering where my partner Paul was through all of this. To this day I have no idea what he was thinking. During my struggle in the water, I remember looking back toward our field of tip-ups to see Paul putting some more wood on our little fire and thinking just how small he looked from that distance. He simply said that he knew I’d get out and thought I might be a little cold so he made sure the fire was cranking. I was so stunned, I left it at that. The odd thing is I never yelled for help, and even more odd, never expected it. Don’t ask me why.
I tossed Paul the keys to my truck, and he hiked back for the change of clothes that I always bring along. As I sat by the fire, I wondered when my bleeding shins and missing toenails would start to hurt. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, but I was warm enough that I didn’t fully dress again while I waited for dry underclothes. Wouldn’t you know it, the flags started flying. I still laugh when I think of what the game warden might have thought had I been checked while in a sweatshirt, underwear and boots running from flag to flag like a mad man.
Paul returned 15 minutes later, and I dressed properly for the job at hand. I was dry again, and my feet and shins hurt, but what I felt more than anything was relief. I was alive and so was Garth. The bacon and eggs were reheated and eaten in between the flying flags. Garth seemed to be fully recovered although he didn’t venture far from our spread. We spent a long day chasing flags, icing too many perch to count and a few nice bass along the way. The seriousness of the day didn’t entirely hit me until I walked through the door and told my wife what had happened. Somehow, explaining in detail it all came back to me, and I’m not ashamed to say we cried for a while. I will never forget the look in Garth’s eyes when he was sure he was going to die or that whining and panicked splashing as I got close to him. Garth knew just how close he had come to death and for the next couple of weeks never left my side. I didn’t think it was possible to have a stronger bond with a dog than I already had, but I was wrong. I learned a lot that day. I was proud of how I had handled myself because you never really know how you will react until you have to react. I have no hard feelings toward Paul; I still think of him as a friend but I don’t fish much with him anymore. I pick my ice-fishing partners more carefully now and would trust them with my life because some day my life just may depend on one of them.