Early Ice, Bad Choices

An Outdoor Addictions Story

Trout Stevens and his buddy Larry Sideways decided it was officially ice-fishing season, despite the fact the lake looked more like a piece of Saran Wrap stretched over soup.

“Looks solid enough,” Larry Sideways said, stepping onto the ice with the confidence of a man who’s made many mistakes and learned from none.

Trout Stevens tapped the ice with his boot, and it made a sound that could only be described as regret. “Yeah!,” he said. “Totally safe.”

They walked out about twenty feet before the ice let out a loud CRACK that echoed across the lake like a warning from Mother Nature herself.

“Did you hear that?” Trout Stevens asked.

“Nope,” Larry Sideways said. “Selective hearing. Works great during fishing season and when my wife asks about receipts.”

They drilled a hole anyway, because men don’t back down from danger when fish might be involved.

Every time they moved, the ice would make another dramatic “HELLO?!?, I AM TOO THIN FOR THIS GUYS” type of noise. They responded like all seasoned outdoorsmen: and ignored it.

Larry Sideways sat on his bucket that wobbled like it was considering a career change. Trout Stevens kneeled next to his hole, listening to water slosh underneath them like a hungry beast waiting for one of them to make a mistake.

Then came the moment.

Larry Sideways shifted his weight. The ice groaned. Trout Stevens eyes widened, and Larry Sideways bucket made a noise that translated to “I’m out!”

 CRRRRRAAAAAACK!

A fracture shot out from their holes faster than either of them had ever reeled in anything.

“DON’T MOVE!” Trout Steven whispered.

“WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING? THE ICE CAN’T HEAR US!” Larry Sideways shouted, making things infinitely worse.

They froze in place — mentally, emotionally, spiritually — praying the ice wouldn’t turn them into seasonal decorations at the bottom of the lake.

 Then Larry Sideways rod bent over. A fish was biting.

They made direct eye contact. “We should leave,” Trout Stevens said.

“After I reel this in,” Larry Sideways said. “Well of course.” Trout Stevens said.

 Lary Sideways leaned back, the ice snapped louder, and both men instantly decided that fish were overrated.

They sprinted toward shore like two bowling balls on greased glass — slipping, sliding, screaming, inventing new swear words never before recorded in Canadian history.

Behind them, their gear slowly sank into the slush like the lake was claiming payment for their stupidity. They didn’t stop until their boots hit shore.

Panting. Shaking. Laughing.

“Early ice fishing. Fun right?” Lary Sideways said.

“Never again,” Trout Stevens replied.

(They were back out the very next weekend.)