From The Frozen Lake To Wrangling Horses
Time for fishing has been incredibly difficult to find lately. With me attending school (and spending a lot of time driving), and Darrell having to pick up the slack at home, weekends become our time to catch up on errands and chores, as well as sleep. We usually get out on the ice at least one day a week, but we haven’t had any spectacular outings yet this winter.
Yesterday we decided to hit a lake not too far from home. We were hoping to catch pike and walleye, despite our dismal history on this lake in the winter. I was happy to be hitting the ice no matter what, and eagerly jumped out of the truck on our arrival – only to be greeted by the stinging blast of cold air blowing across the lake. I threw an extra layer on under my floater suit and dressed as fast as possible while becoming increasingly aware that my fingers were losing sensation. Two pairs of gloves later, my hands started to warm up, the gear was in the hut, and we were walking out onto the ice.
Since we have an aversion to setting up with the crowd, Darrell and I walked to the other side of the lake. I paid for that decision later. We started drilling holes and set up on a drop off where we marked some fish. My concern was to get three holes drilled so I could set up the hut and escape to its shelter. There was more ice and slush than I had bargained for and the auger had disappeared into the ice by the time I finished the first hole. I started hole number two and again, the auger disappeared, but I couldn’t seem to break through the ice. I admit it, I gave up and asked Darrell to finish the hole. He is my version of a power auger!
All comfy and cozy in the hut.
About 45 minutes later I was into the fishing zone. I had cycled through some baits and ended up with a bucktail jig that was drawing some hits. I was reacting too slowly and kept missing the fish, but any action while fishing is a good thing, and I was lost in my own little world, staring at the fish finder and adjusting my jigging pattern.
A steady vibration broke my concentration and I realized my phone was ringing. In the haste to pick up the call before it ended, I nearly dropped my phone down one of the holes. I answered the call and heard, “Your horses are loose”. Crap! (That’s not the exact word that came out of my mouth).
What was I to do? We had all of our gear out, the hut set up, and lines down holes. I needed to get home right away but I really could use to have Darrell with me as an extra set of hands, and the only other person these horses know and trust. It just wasn’t going to be possible to clear everything up and get home in a timely manner. I left Darrell on the ice and starting running across the lake. Remember, we were on the other side of the lake. Fortunately, it’s a narrow lake and could have been worse, but I don’t think I even made it halfway before my run turned into a fast walk. Running in a floater suit, heavy winter boots, on a snow-covered frozen lake is one heck of a workout – a much needed workout, but holy heck was my heart pounding.
At the truck I managed to pull off the floater suit and boots in record time, change into boots that would allow me to actually use the clutch, and race home, all the while imagining I would find my horses running down the road as I got closer.
I resisted the urge to speed up the driveway, knowing all three of the horses would be high-strung with the heady thrill of freedom, and slowly came to a stop when I spotted them converged around a hay bale. Argo suffered from my wrath immediately as I began swearing at him. He may not have been the first one to get loose, but that soon-to-be 26-year-old thoroughbred is most definitely the ringleader in these situations. Inside a paddock, he’s a laid-back old man, let him free from the confines of the fence and he seems to recall his youthful days at the track.
While the other two horses started planning their escape routes, Argo knew better than to mess with me when I was in such a mood, and he started a shameful shuffle towards me as I grabbed a lead-rope and stomped towards him. With the ringleader soon shackled, the other two followed behind, and in less than a minute I had everyone back in their paddock. The cause of the breakout was an unlocked gate, which was a relief to me as it would have been a real pain if they had actually broken through the fence, or somehow found the energy to jump over.
After reminding the horses that they are never to walk through any open gate without my express permission, I quadruple-checked that every gate was securely closed and headed back to the lake to try and salvage some fishing time. I needed the relaxing effects of fishing more after that episode.
I trudged across the lake yet again (my muscles got a great workout yesterday) and found that Darrell had caught a small pike in my absence. While I managed to get a few hits, neither of us ended up with anything else to show for the outing. It appeared to be a slow day all-round as other anglers had the same results. We packed up the gear and were the last anglers off the lake.
I was grateful to have had a little more time on the ice to unwind from the stress of having horses.
argosgirl
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