Fish Shack

11,000 years ago, in the wake of glacial retreat, large blocks of ice were left behind that would eventually melt and become Lake Minnetonka. Before Whitey arrived, Dakota Sioux, Cheyenne, Iowa, and Ojibwe Indians called the shores of Lake Minnetonka home. The Land o’ Lakes was no doubt considered “sacred,” as all tribal peoples seem to intuit that anything that sustains life is sacred.

Now, I didn’t see any Ojibwes when I was there last weekend, but I did see something pretty magical: Up Lake Minnetonka way, every winter, the aquatic world and the terrestrial world become separated by a three foot-thick sheath of frozen lake water. Those who would profit from the protein and nutrient-fish that call the lake home find themselves drilling holes in the ice. Using high-powered gasoline augers, they puncture the lake’s surface and drill right down to the water. They then sink baited monofilament lines into the hole and hope for a prosperous return.

Pre-Whitey Indians no doubt did something like this too. And at some point, somebody had the bright idea to build a temporary shelter around the hole. And eventually, somebody else had the over-the-top idea to outfit that shelter with a t.v., radio, and refrigerator for holding copious amounts of cheap lager. Personally, I could give or take the t.v. and radio. But right about now that refrigerator full of lager sounds like the perfect fuel for catching some serious walleye.

While I was up there, I went for a nice walk on Lake Minnetonka and found an encampment of ice fishermen. Some had cheap little hovels over their fishing holes. Others had elaborate yurts and cabins. Thanks to our Minnesota connections, me and the wife actually got invited inside one of the more modest ice shelters. Inside we found this man in a sweat suit and his eighty-five year old mother, fishing away.

They were really nice and let me take some pictures of their scene. While I was gazing at his hi-tech video screen (it’s not pictured here, but he actually had a live underwater camera for viewing his prey) the man said, “So…you’re from Georgia, eh? I got a sister lives down in Arizona.” And I said, “Oh yeah?” Minnesota all the way.

Not all Minnesotans are ice fisherman. In fact, I conducted a little poll all by myself and discovered that most Minnesotans find the idea boring, silly, or just sort of pointless. After all, as one native put it rather succinctly, “if I need a fish I can just go to the store. I don’t need to spend six hours in a fishy little shack on the middle of a frozen lake in the dead of winter.”