As I’ve probably mentioned about a million times on this blog, I’m a third generation Minnesotan of Scandinavian heritage. This means I’m blonde, I know how to layer in cold weather, I can make lots of dishes involving potatoes, and I’m decent at just about any activity involving water/ice/snow.
The state I call home boasts 10,000+ lakes and six months of winter. This means that much of the year those thousands of lakes are covered in ice and enterprising, brave souls drill holes through said ice to catch fish. Growing up on a lake in rural Minnesota
means I knew how to set a hook from a young age and I spent many, many Saturdays playing Crazy Eights in my dad’s ice fishing house.
If you don’t know, a fish house is a little shanty that anglers sit in while they catch fish through holes in the ice. There are removeable sections of floor so the anger can drill a hole through the ice, fish from the comfort of his house, cover the hole back up, and then stride around his house without dunking his/her foot in ice water. Fish houses can be portable and made from canvas or fully insulated with beds, stoves, tables, and a functioning television. (They’re pretty much adult playhouses/forts but don’t tell my dad I said that.)
I’ve spent plenty of time ice fishing, but I’ve never spent the night in a fish house because, well, we’re not that fancy. But when my old friend Matt offered to let me spend the night in one of the swanky fish houses he rents to clients
, I thought I’d be remiss in my duty as a Minnesotan if I didn’t take him up on it.How swanky was this fish house?
* There were electric lights (powered by a hidden car battery)
* There was a two-burner stove (and cups/plates/silverware)
* There were four comfy beds
* Most importantly, there was a super effective, propane-fueled heater. Which was nice, since it got down to -22 the night we slept on Lake Bemidji
So what, exactly, do you do in a fishhouse for 10 hours? Well, if you’re me, you
* Catch a fish and then feel really bad about it
* Put it in the ice bucket and then stress out about it
* Decide that the catfish minnow
is cuter than all the other minnows
* Go on a gas station run so you can use their bathroom/buy Snyder’s honey mustard pretzels
* Ask your super sweet boyfriend if he’ll take the live minnows off the hooks because now you’re sad about them. Swim free little buddies! I’m sorry we put hooks in you!
* Read portions of your business book aloud
* Drink creepy pre-packaged, crassly named shots
* Take the fish out of the ice bucket and put it back in the hole. Give it a pep talk. Get nervous it’s dead.
* Dump the live minnows down the hole because you’re now completely consumed with guilt.
* Put on your hat. Take off your boots. You’re hot. Now you’re not hot enough.
* Take phone calls and text message from concerned parties. No, you’re not going to fall through the ice/freeze to death/asphyxiate.
* After all that fun, fall asleep by 10 pm.We woke up in a comfortably heated ice house to a gorgeous sunrise and shocking temperatures. We ate some cereal for breakfast (we’d put the milk carton on the floor of the fish house and it stayed appropriately cool), bundled up, and started the long drive home.
All in all, an awesome adventure. I’d totally sleep in the fish house again – but I’ll leave the fishing to someone else.
Have you ever gone ice fishing? Or slept in a fish house?