Wake up a 04:50.
Borrow mom's moon boots and snoveralls because I don't have warm clothes of my own.
Get picked up by Daryl Bulloch and drive to Otter Creek Reservoir to go ice fishing with five old guys (one of which was my dad).
Let me tell you: I don't like fishing. I don't like cold. Because of those two things, you would think that I would have hated ice fishing.
Well, you are absolutely right.
Our group (me, dad, Daryl, Ron, Roland) were the first ones on the lake* at.... I don't even know what time. Outrageously early o'clock. It was cold, calm, and clear. I lost two toes to frost bite. Just kidding. I have all my digits.
I didn't catch any fish with my own pole, but I did reel a few in from others' poles.
I fished, napped on rocks, napped on the ice, slid around wishing I had brought my ice skates, froze, and was bored for a long time.
Daryl, Ron, and Roland are hardcore fishermen. Dad would like to be. I would never like to fish again in my life (but I probably will). We were there all. Day. Long. I wanted to be done at noon. That was not the case. We left at four. We were the first ones on the lake and the last ones off. Seriously.
The fishing was comparatively slow, according to the experts. But dad and I came home with eight fish... most of which were caught by Ron's pole. I gutted and cleaned them. Dad filleted them.
|This is me ice fishing. So fashionable, eh? the sun had just barely crested the surrounding hills.|
|I was using a jig which requires you to move the line up and down thus resulting in ice on the line which was a reel pain. Pun intended.|
|Largest catch of the day goes to Daryl.|
|This is ice fishing. Exciting, no?|
|So styling it's not even funny. Check out the snotsicles.|
|Napping on the ice.|
|Large bowl of cleaned fish. I don't know why I didn't get a photo of me holding the chain (?) of fish. Ron has one...|