Column by Mike Simmons, Staff Notes

A few days ago, a friend of mine, Todd Thoms of Glenville, gave me a call and asked if I was interested in going ice fishing. While I&8217;m an avid angler in the spring, summer and fall, fishing as much as three or four days a week, sitting on a bucket on the ice in the middle of winter at night just didn&8217;t appeal to me.

As it turns out, Thoms had a solution &8212; a long time friend of his had a pretty nice icehouse at the channel on Albert Lea Lake and was making it available to us for a few days.

When I say nice, I mean it was wired with electricity. To top it off, it even had a small wood-burning stove.

Now we&8217;re talking!

We met out on the ice around 7 p.m. on Saturday. The DNR stocked hundreds of thousands of walleye in Albert Lea Lake over the last few years. With a good number of them being stocked as fingerling, Albert Lea Lake is definitely primed for some good fishing this winter.

However, fishing wasn&8217;t great Saturday night. After talking to other fisherman it seemed to be a slow night for everyone on the ice.

Thoms urged me to be patient in the early stages of the night. &8220;If they are going to bite it will probably be around 11 or 12, when things start quieting down on the ice,&8221; he said.

Quieting down on the ice you ask? If you haven&8217;t experienced it, it is just like a small neighborhood out on the ice. People are walking down the street, others are outside getting some fresh air and chatting with their neighbors, cars and trucks are driving past on a regular basis. Believe it or not, there is even pizza and beer that can be delivered right to the door of your icehouse. Isn&8217;t America great?

The conversation was good and the time seemed to fly by but as the clock moved closer to 11 p.m. we still hadn&8217;t had as much as a nibble. Then, as I sat in a trance-like state staring at my motionless bobber, it slowly disappeared down the hole into the ice cold darkness.

I jumped to my feet, grabbed my rod and reel and gently set the hook with my two pound test line. Thinking at first that perhaps I had a perch or a nice size crappie, I was pleasantly surprised when my rod bent in half and the drag started to squeal. If you&8217;re a fisherman you know that sound is music to your ears.

The only problem was is that I couldn&8217;t get the fish to stop running; it just continued to take line off the small reel. But finally I slowly gained some ground on the fish and moved it closer to the hole, but seeing the hole sent the fish on a mad dash once again. This happened over and over again for the next five minutes as the huge fish just would not tire enough to land.

Up to this point, with words of advice from Thoms, I was holding my own against this monster, but it was slowly starting to turn personal. It was man versus beast. I was going to win. It was now or never as far as I was concerned.

It you&8217;re a fisherman, you know how this story ends. After fighting this fish for over five minutes and having it close to being landed numerous times, I made a big mistake. I got impatient and put my right index finger on the spool so I could try to muscle the fish to the hole. As soon as I did, the line snapped and the fish was gone.

As I laid in the snow outside the icehouse crying, in a scene reminiscent of Walter Matthau in &8220;Grumpy Old Men,&8221; I started brushing snow away from the ice screaming at the top of my lungs, &8220;No!&8221;

The next day, after a sleepless night of thinking about my blunder, we were back at it again. On my way to the icehouse though I ran into little Kenny Flatten as he was shoveling snow to pile alongside his father&8217;s icehouse while his brother Elliot was getting things ready inside.

&8220;We are down here a lot,&8221; said Kenny&8217;s father Tony Flatten. &8220;It&8217;s been pretty slow, we get one here, one there, we caught some walleye, but very few.&8221;

Talking to Kenny though kind of put the loss of my fish the night before in perspective. Kenny was asked what it is about ice fishing that he likes the most, catching fish or spending time with his dad and without hesitation he hugged his dad&8217;s leg and with a big grin and said, &8220;I just like spending time with my dad.&8221;

That is what it&8217;s truly all about &8212; fishing, spending time with dad or friends &8212; not just catching fish. Sometimes it just takes the wisdom of children to set you straight. Thanks Kenny.

Special thanks to Curt Tuttle for graciously allowing us the use of his wonderful icehouse, it was greatly appreciated.