A Newfound Love

If you see this title and think you’re going to get a sweet “boy-meets-girl love story,” then I am sorry to disappoint. Nope. This love I speak of is a new winter excursion that will be a tradition for me and my boys for years to come. If you’ve ever seen the movie, Grumpy Old Men, you’ve witnessed these small ice fishing communities that exist almost as temporary towns. There are often named “streets” and “avenues” as well as “blocks” and even “neighborhoods.” In some of the larger communities, you’ll even find snack bars. It’s something most of us have never seen or even heard of.

So, when the boys and I were invited up to northern Wisconsin a month ago to visit some relatives of ours, it was something we couldn’t pass on. We were on the Eagle River chain of lakes, but beyond that, I was ordered to keep our location private. You know... the ol’ “honey hole” agreement. We decided we’d all rather drive up there instead of being forced through the Covid compliances required with public transportation. It was a long drive, but sometimes, those are the best ones for reconnecting with your kids. We had electronics, but we also had set aside screen-time breaks. We stopped at some pretty tasty restaurants and had one overnight stop each way.

As we traveled north, each stop brought with it a very noticeable temperature decline, ultimately ending in a frozen hell. Call me soft, but I do not care for their version of cold weather. I’d gladly take our 40s and 50s. However, there was somehow a refreshing feel to the air there... and not in the temperate way. It was crisp, but quiet. Chilled, but peaceful. And the people there were so very welcoming and happy to have us southerners. I think a lot of that hospitality kicks in when people from out of state who have no business trying to acclimate to your environment, are somehow trying to do just that.

We arrived in the late afternoon just before sundown and just before the notorious crappie bite. So, there wasn’t much time for pleasantries. My cousin, Dave, wanted to get right down to business and we were happy to oblige. Sure enough, one after another was the mode we were in. We couldn’t get our lines all the way down to the bottom. Dave had sourced some portable ice houses and some electronic sonar devices that allow us to watch our bait drop down into the hole and see the fish come right up to it. It was a blast. Almost like playing a video game. But before you give me the “that’s cheating” nonsense, it isn’t as easy as it looks. And it’s a lot more difficult than going to your local grocery store’s frozen fish section for a meal.

Dave also had a permanent shelter, equipped with beds, a kitchen, satellite television, and even a “bathroom.” So, we went in for the evening, fried up some of our catch with some grilled veggies and a couple barley pops. The kids loved it and so did I. We had dinner, watched some football and continued fishing right inside his house... in our t-shirts! It was like we were in a foreign land. I had never witnessed anything like it.

The next several days were filled with more fishing, eating, breathtaking sunsets, and even some “sled-skiing,” which is literally tying a rope to the trailer hitch of the truck and one of those plastic sleds us southerners usually only see in the movies. What a blast the kids had. And with seeing the looks pure joy on their faces, I think I may have enjoyed it more than them. When it all ended and we had to head back home, the kids were obviously bummed. But I was quick to assure them that we would be making this newfound love a new tradition for the Willerson boys.