2-6-13 Wed

2-6-2013 Wed 1:30 PM – 5:30 PM
Weather:
(1453) E 6, overcast, 27 ˚, 30.04 falling
Water:
4.92 rising, 16.7 kcfs, clear
Location:
Goose Island back sloughs (Josh’s perch spot)
Caught:
1 – 26” pike, 1 – 10” perch, 1 – 6” bluegill
Partners:
None
Comments:

I had the day off and I had hoped to have a very enjoyable day of ice fishing and exploring. I woke just before daylight and was greeted with temperatures a few degrees below zero. Since I was taking the airboat and I do not like running it if it is any colder than about fifteen degrees on the plus side I did not leave home till after 10, and even at that time in the morning the temperature was still in the single digits. I made the 30 – 40 minute drive to Goose Island and started removing my fishing gear from my truck to my airboat. About half way through the unloading process I discovered I had made a grave error; I had forgot the ice auger. This was a major bungle on my part. Forgetting the ice auger when you are going ice fishing is like forgetting the paddles when you are going canoeing, you just cannot get along without either.
I made the trip back home grumbling to myself the whole time. I Picked up the auger, retraced my steps back to Goose Island and was leaving the landing in my fully stocked airboat a little after 1PM. I found the spot that I had never fished before and drilled about eight exploratory holes. In each and every hole I was able to see fish on my underwater camera. I saw bass, bluegills, perch and crappies and in quite decent numbers. I was pumped! I soon had two tip ups out and was fishing with a third line in my portable shack, accompanied by my camera. It did not take me long to realize the fish had done their typical Houdini act. As has happened many times in the past, drill some holes, take a look with the camera, see lots of fish, and then when you start fishing no more fish!
After about two hours of jig fishing with one bluegill and one perch succumbing to my rhythmic jigging motion, I put the jig pole away and put out another tip up. Exclusively tip up fishing can be quite boring, but it does give you time to reflect and explore your surroundings. I perched myself about four feet above the water on a solid bank with my back leaning up against a massive silver maple and a panoramic view of my tip ups. The first thing I noticed was some fishing line wrapped up in the massive maples limbs that stretched toward the frozen surface of the bay. Upon further examination the line had a hook and sinker attached to it, and on the hook was what looked to be the remains of minnow. This minnow never made the sacrifice for the good of the fisherman, nor did it have the slight chance of escape that the water may have offered.
As the day crept toward the dark side, I noticed the lights of the Mt LaCrosse Ski Hill and the lights of WKBT radio towers. Even though I was out in the middle of the marsh, and civilization and people seemed a long distance away, these lighted locations told me otherwise.
The marsh is pretty stale or life less this time of year, perhaps that is why I ignored some rusting in the branches of a swamp white oak just mere feet away from my location. That is until the noise did not stop even with the last breath of the wind which I had assumed was making the rustling. To my amazement and astonishment the noise was coming from a gray and a fox squirrel that must have been making the evening rounds around their domain. I circled around the little group of trees where they were now hiding and there was not one set of their tracks in the snow. This lead me to believe they were staying put in this one location till spring arrived or they ran out of their stash of nuts. One other sign or should I say past sign of life was the tracks of small marsh rodents (mice or voles) that had made the fatal mistake of crossing the open snow covered bay. There was not much left to the imagination of their fateful journey. Their delicate little tracks across the frozen slough ended with a softball size depression in the snow along with a few delicate wing prints just to the outside of the depression. The little rodents met their fate in the talons of a hawk or owl.
Yes my little vantage point was very nice, secure and comfortable, and for some reason I even had the thought that it would not be so bad spending the evening out here if for some reason I had a mechanical breakdown with the boat. Well, I must have really jinxed myself, because at the end of daylight I packed the boat and jumped into the driver’s seat, turned the key and nothing happened. I was marooned!
I checked some rudimentary items, connected my spare battery, but still the starter did nothing. I had plenty of juice to run my accessories, but my starter just would not turn. I quickly came to the conclusion I was stuck and needed assistance. Walking back to my truck was not an option, it was a good three mile hike and there was plenty of open water and thin ice between where I was now and the safety of the landing. I then came to the second realization; I had to call my friend Jake Tupper who also has an airboat. I really hate to call and ask anybody for help and it’s not because I am too proud, I just do not like to have to bother anybody. I made the call, described as best I could where I was at and told him I would continue to try and get the boat started. He graciously accepted the rescue mission as I told him to give me a call when he got to my vehicle at the landing.
I figured it would be a one and one half to two hour wait until he arrived, so in the mean time I was not going to sit on my laurels and do nothing. I carry a few tools along and thank goodness I had a light. At first I thought it was the ignition switch or the wiring coming off the switch. I pretty much tore the ignition switch apart and every wire associated with the ignition and accessories, but this got me nowhere. I then looked over the starter and noticed I had two leads coming to the battery from the starter. I removed on of the leads and touched the hot wire to the starter, bypassing the solenoid and the starter spun to life.
I now knew I had a pretty good chance of getting the boat going. The only other obstacle left was when the starter turned the gear that engages the flywheel the gear was not extending out to engage the flywheel. I was able to manually pull the gear out of the housing, but it is spring loaded and it would not stay extended. I tried it again and this time I turned the flywheel so the flywheel and the starter were engaged and the friction of the two held the starter gear out. The only problem with this is I did not know if the starter gear would retract once the engine fired up. I touched the hot wire directly to the starter and hoped for the best. With lots of luck on my side the engine fired up and the starter gear retracted from the flywheel.
It was now time to make the journey back to the safety of the landing. I called Jake, who was almost to Goose Island and told him I had gotten the boat started and that I would hopefully meet him at the landing. I grabbed all my gear off the ice and threw it in no certain order back into the boat and got ready for the ride back to the landing. I only had one more handicap to overcome; I had no lights to illuminate my journey back to the landing. It was more than a little hairy with the thin ice and open water and my very limited visibility. I did make it back okay, but I definitely did not take the same route that I had taken to get there. I even got a little turned around a time or two.
I never did meet up with Jake at the landing, I had told him to take a left at the four way stop instead of a right. I did call him and told him I had made it to the landing and that I was very thankful for his assistance.

Observations:

We are in depths of winter; the landscape looks like winter and the fish are very lethargic. I was quite surprised by all the open water in the back sloughs around Goose Island though. The sloughs and the main channel around home are solidly covered with ice and the snowmobilers and four wheelers are exploring every little nook and cranny.