It has been a few weeks, and I am experiencing a void. I only wanted to get outside to try the new stuff that I scored. I desperately needed some action. I reached out to a chum from work. There was a time when I would fish in the super-cold creeks. Not anymore. It’s not my thing. Let’s bundle up and go ice fishing instead.

Chris Spangler and I have been good friends for a very long time. But ever since I started working for Chris and the family business, we no longer hang out. He is a few years younger, and he is quite the fisherman. Chris has been great in terms of being one of my fly-fishing mentors. Spangler has all kinds of fancy gadgets. I often joke and say he has something from every page of a Cabela’s catalog. True story. Chris and I have been on several adventures. He leads the way, and I tag along.

Chris had some luck at the Little Pine Dam over the holidays. He showed me pictures of many different species. Bluegills. Largemouth. Perch. and a few healthy Rainbows. I was intrigued. We made plans to head up the following weekend. Chris’s now 12-year-old son Jace planned to join us. Then Snowmeggedon. Now what?

I looked through the archives. I had an old story with Chris and Jace several years back. Perhaps we can rerun her. My bad, Steph. I am blaming the cold.

I arrived at the northern access of Rose Valley Lake at a quarter to 4:00. The Weatherbug App said it was a raw 17 degrees. Chris had already set up shop. They were just a few clicks from the parking lot. I was very surprised to find several others braving the elements. Do you like my old blaze orange bibs?

I immediately noticed their new fancy gear. From gas-powered augers to multiple ice fishing combos. One enormous cargo sled and a propane heater. From portable blinds to state-of-the-art electronics. It was amazing. All of this just for me?

“Jase has been slaying ‘em,” Chris, a proud pop, said with a grin. “Why don’t you pull up next to him. Here. Use this. That color combo is banging. Are you familiar with one of these?”

Chris was pointing to a GARMIN Ice Master 4000 in a shiny blue weatherproof case. Um. No. Sorry guys. I am just an extreme wading fisherman and had absolutely zero experience with such a high-tech sonar pinging devices. It reminded me of a throwback 8-bit Nintendo game. Seriously, I thought we were fishing. I didn’t know we were hunting for Red October.

“Well. Here’s your depth,” Chris explained. “We are fishing in 6 feet of water. That’s the bottom, and see this small blue beacon? That’s your jig. Now move your rod. See it bounce up and down? Look. That’s a fish. There’s another. SET THE HOOK.”

Chris did his very best to sum up years of experience in a short three-minute introductory lesson. He eventually cut the chord. Both Chris and Jace continued to land jumbo perch and monster gills. I was still trying to figure out those orange and yellow sonar flashes in the freezing cold. Any luck, Spencer? No! My patience was running thin.

“Dad. I caught another one,” Jace yelled. “It’s a perch. Why isn’t Jamie catching anything?”

Okay. I was crushed. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Everyone was catching fish, including this little Montgomery Red Raider wrestler who was now talking trash. He was using the very same setup, only five feet away. We’d switch holes, but he’d only start catching them in the old spot. It’s gotta be me. I’m cursed.

My gloves were completely frozen, and I couldn’t feel my toes. It was starting to get dark, and I thought to myself how much longer? A few more minutes passed, and just when I was going to give — my sonar went absolutely berserk. I didn’t panic, nor did I call for help. I only tried to remember what my friends discussed.

I slightly bounced my rod, hoping to entice that red flash that was embedded in the weeds. He came up for a quick peek, and I slowed my presentation. I felt a slight twitch and quickly set the hook. I realized there was a fish on the other end of my line. I was so excited. Hey guys. I finally got one! Chris was happy, but Jase laughed when he saw my puny prize.

I have caught hundreds and hundreds of fish in my lifetime, but that four-inch baby bluegill was my first through the ice. Size didn’t matter, and I ended up catching two more. Nothing to brag about, but I was awfully proud. I am still a novice, and now I am hooked.

Special thanks to the Spanglers who taught me some new tricks. Ice fishing isn’t for everyone, but I had an absolute blast. Appreciate the patience and advice, boys. Frozen lines. Cheers.