Lake Superior is big, deep and cold. Native Americans called it “Gitchee Gumee” which means Big Water. Every time I set foot on Lake Superior, this Native American name rings through my head, often to the tune of Gordon Lightfoot’s spine chilling ballad relaying the story of the November, 1975 sinking of the American Great Lakes freighter, SS Edmund Fitzgerald.
Ice anglers must heed this as a stern warning and ensure that history doesn’t repeat itself. Lake Superior is truly unforgiving water, and safety is of paramount concern. Don’t fish there unless you’re familiar with these waters, or know someone who can accompany you that is. Even then, life vests, safety picks, throw ropes, a chisel for checking ice thickness; even a portable shack and portable heater are necessities—not necessarily for fishing, but as a means of assembling a warming station in the event of an emergency.
Aron Checking the Ice
Due to the vast surface area, deep water, changing currents and powerful winds, ice conditions on Superior never come close to freezing uniformly. Pressure cracks, pack ice and slush pockets are common. Weather and wind changes are imminent, and ice conditions can and will change quickly.
In short, this isn’t water to toy with.
But oh how this incredibly intriguing fishery entices. The diverse species and opportunity to ice trophy fish is hard to resist, and for me, one of the biggest attractions is early season brown trout. Browns tend to move into fairly shallow water in fall, and as long as a forage source remains, so will these fish—and they often stay there after the ice forms, presenting a unique opportunity for ice anglers.
The nice thing about fishing them early ice is there’s really no need to travel far off shore. Browns can be caught from some pretty skinny water—I’ve caught ten pound fish from water shallow as three feet. This makes some very substantial fish readily accessible to anglers…while dramatically reducing the danger of crossing vast expanses of ice.
So when HT pro staffer Aron Kastern of Unlimited Trophy Outfitters in Ashland, Wisconsin texted last January to say the shallows of Chequamegon Bay were sufficiently frozen and accessible, accompanied of course, by a picture featuring his fiancée displaying a beautifully marked brown, I wasted no time packing. This kind of ice fishing action stirs deep within my innermost soul, and the allure is almost more than I can bear. I’m literally shaking with excitement as I gather my gear.
For me, fishing Great Lakes browns is truly moving. The average size fish runs approximately 6-8 pounds, but fish approaching the 30# mark have been caught, and it’s not unusual to hook steelhead, splake, salmon, pike, walleye and even sturgeon while fishing them–and these species can all be of trophy proportions, too.
We plan two days of filming, and you guessed it—as has been the case all year, when the day finally arrives, the weather is absolutely, astoundingly brutal. “I don’t know, Tom,” Aron confides. Temperatures are supposed to be -30 with forty mile an hour winds. “What do you think?”
I know Aron, and if I say we’re fishing, he’ll shrug his shoulders and say okay. The guy is worse than I am. Yes, really–worse than me. Rather than make a final decision, I simply tell him I’ll check with Sean Casper, the man behind the camera and see what he has to say.
I call Sean, who has to contend with cameras, batteries and electronics. I’m already pretty sure what he’ll think of all this, and my guess is right.
“Honestly, I don’t know if our equipment will even perform in those conditions,” Sean admits. “That’s pretty extreme.”
Much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree, so I call Aron back, explaining I know this front is severe and expected to last a couple days–but as usual, our time is limited and we’re likely going to have to contend with this weather at some point. However, I decide to delay the trip by a day. Aron seems relieved, and assures me I’m making the right call.
Two days later, with the winds moderated by a whole five miles per hour and temperatures hovering around -15, we make the drive to Superior. After unloading and settling in our room, I turn on the Weather Channel. The news isn’t good: The front has stalled and it’s going to remain cold, in fact, temperatures are predicted to drop somewhat.
While discussing our situation with Aron, Lacey and Sean, things suddenly become strikingly quiet, and everyone turns to me. I really need to stop and think. In these cold temperatures with forceful winds blowing across Lake Superior, we’re talking wind chills approaching -40. It’s bad enough we could easily subject ourselves to severe frostbite on any exposed skin while handling cameras or wet fish at those temperatures, but if there was any kind of an accident, even in shallow water near shore, the situation would instantly become life-threatening. My choice is disappointing, but necessary.
“We can’t go out in these conditions,” I concede. Maybe we can get out by mid-day. Let’s take our time getting things together and organized in the morning, then meet to talk strategies. This will allow the sun some time to moderate the temperatures and we can also watch to see what the wind does. While our mobility will be somewhat limited by these conditions, let’s bring a portable shelter, too. This way, we’ll at least have a central warming station available as we explore, or if necessary, a heated shelter to hunker down into and fish from.”
Aron’s relieved face shows he likes the plan, and he nods. Sean, on the other hand, still isn’t fully convinced.
“Man,” he sighs. “We’re really charting untested territory and certainly pushing the limits of this camera equipment. Even if temperatures moderate, the winds settle down or we fish from inside a shelter, we’re still facing a challenging situation.”
I admire this guy. Always have. I’m not really sure how many other videographers would put up with me or risk their equipment to film in the environments and elements we’re working in. But as much as he may be concerned, Sean is always willing to listen, and seldom isn’t willing to at least try. Today is no different.
“I’ll do my best, Tom,” Sean volunteers, skeptically. “But you must understand the risk. We’ve never filmed in this type of extreme weather, and honestly, I don’t know of anyone else who has, either. Digital electronics were not designed to perform in these conditions. I’ll take every precaution I can to make this work, but there are no guarantees,” he warns.
I nod and tell everyone to get a good night’s rest, but none of us do. We all toss and turn all night, wondering if we’ll be able to get out, or simply be stuck sitting in a hotel lobby staring restlessly out the front window.
Dawn breaks, cold as ever. We get everything ready, but with the ambient air temperatures lingering around -20 and a strong, sustained wind gusting powerfully, we decide to do some interviews inside to start the day. By late morning, however, we’re all anxious. Cold or not—the decision is made to give this a whirl.
We dress and head to the launch. Despite the brutal cold, the first location we check isn’t frozen deep enough for our taste, so we move on to another more protected area where we find favorable conditions.
After scouting things out and drilling some holes, we place a few tip-ups. Aron and Lacey set up the Insta-Shak and invite us to join them, but I still want to explore. Aron shrugs and zips the door shut. Sean just looks at me with eyebrows raised, but cooperatively grabs his camera and follows as I begin working a line of pre-drilled holes.
We’re not far off shore, a couple hundred yards at most. Good first ice action is often found directly along shoreline flats, in anywhere from three to thirty feet of water, with the usual depth contour breaks and associated turns being primary targets. If you can locate any form of cover associated with these contours–features such as boulders, rock piles or sunken logs–you’ve likely located a spot you’ll want to return to time and time again. Be sure to mark them as waypoints for future reference…exactly as we have right now.
“These are consistently productive locations that will draw fish,” Aron shared, before sealing himself comfortably inside the shack, wisely positioned right over the top of a prime spot. “And with the water being so clear, they will easily see our offerings.”
There are really two strategies available: Knowing these browns are usually on the move and will use depth contours, especially those coinciding with associated cover as holding points along the way, you can sit and wait them out in these locations. The other way is to move from hole to hole in search of roaming fish. Since Aron and Lacey chose option one, I decide to try option two.
Fishing them isn’t really too difficult, the nice thing about browns is they can be caught using tip-ups or jigging. You’ll need to experiment to see what’s working best as you try noting patterns.
HT’s Windlass tip-ups, with their natural rocking action, are incredibly effective, provided the conditions are conducive to using them. If not, Polar Therm hole cover style tip-ups prevent Lake Superior’s blowing snow from becoming a constant maintenance issue, while keeping holes from freezing. Classic Polars are good, too, but are best when combined with thermal hole covers. Whichever you choose, spool your favorite models with Dacron backing rigged with a generously lengthy fluorocarbon leader tipped with a #8-10 treble hook baited with a large lake or emerald shiner. Add sufficient weight to drop and hold your bait at the desired depth, and you’re all set.
Just keep in mind currents can develop, especially around islands, and can easily be strong enough to drift your bait out of the appropriate target strike zone. In such instances, add a slip sinker of the appropriate weight ahead of your leader, then pinch a split shot ahead of the slip weight so your bait will remain positioned the desired distance off bottom.
If fishing in a group with multiple lines, try setting your tip-ups throughout various depths and breaks. While monitoring fish activity with sonar, suspend your baits anywhere from right off bottom (especially during bright, cold front conditions) to higher up (generally better during low-light or cloudy warm fronts). Spread them out and experiment, searching for patterns and always repositioning your lines accordingly.
Finally, be sure to keep your tip-ups set close, as brown trout have a habit of striking, then at even the slightest hint of resistance, dropping the bait. This means you’ll need to be quick, and if your tip-ups are set too far away, you risk missing strikes.
While monitoring your tip-up set, try jigging. Jigging for brown trout simply involves using mid-length, medium action spinning combos spooled with about 6# monofilament line—similar in many respects to what you might use for most standard walleye applications. Add a relatively long fluorocarbon leader connected with a premium, ball bearing swivel, and you’ll have a good basic system to start with.
You’ll find a variety of lures will perform, depending on the situation. If the browns are suspended and feeding on baitfish, flashy, mid-sized spoons such as Jig A Whopper Hawgers and Lazer Rockers, Little Cleos and Kastmasters in combinations of silver and blue, gold and orange, mother of pearl, nickel-green, white and the ever popular “watermelon” tipped with a minnow head all produce well.
When the browns are more bottom oriented and feeding on crayfish, worms or insect larvae, larger pan fish style jigs such as #8 Marmooska Tungsten Diamonds tipped with plastics or large grubs will do the trick. Again, experiment with style, size and color to determine what’s working best.
Today, I choose to start with a classic spoon, downsized somewhat because of the conditions. Aron and Lacey plan to do the same.
We fish nearly an hour, and while we all mark fish, they aren’t actively feeding. In fact, just getting fish to show interest is a challenge. I check each of the tip-ups, and with my fingertips starting to sting despite my heavy mitts, tear open a package of disposable hand warmers and slip one into each of my mitts. If I do manage to catch and need to handle a wet fish, it will take more than my mitts to help keep my hands warm.
I’m just reeling up and about to resume jigging another hole when Aron steps out of the shelter. Carrying a chisel, he sets out to explore some fresh ice on the opposite side of the shelter in slightly deeper water. I watch, aware that the ice could thin substantially the further out he travels, and quite frankly, I’m concerned about his safety. However, he’s fished here his entire life and proceeds cautiously, poking around carefully for 10 or 15 minutes. He then returns to gather some gear, and in short order yells fish on.
I run over to help, but by the time I get there he already has a small brown trout flopping by his feet. “That one came up fairly aggressively,” he notes, holding it up for display prior to the release. “I hope that’s a good sign.”
Apparently, however, it’s just a fluke, because two more hours of exploration and tip-up repositioning result in two tip-up flags: One a dropped bait, the other a miss. We’re still marking fish while jigging and have been able to get a couple to chase, but the severe cold front has these fish being fussy. With the light (and temperatures) now fading fast, we decide to pack up, thaw our gear (and ourselves) out, then return in the morning.
Day two is a mirror image of day one. With the fish fussy and the weather so cold, we decide to limit our efforts to jigging in order to efficiently work a large area and get our baits in front of as many fish as possible. We do, however, switch from spoons to grub-tipped jigs, thinking we can finesse these fish into biting. Still, after a couple hours, we come up with only one more small fish. Time to move.
We choose to fish a river mouth, hoping to find a few hungry browns, steelhead or salmon moving between the lake and river to feed. With the temperatures still not rising, we set up the Insta-Shak and after placing an automatic hook-set rod holder of Aron’s own design outside one door, Aron, Lacey and I pack inside to finesse jig inside the heated shelter.
This strategy pays. Lacey promptly hooks something big, but the fish slips the hook. “The way that fish hit, I bet that was a nice steelhead,” Aron guesses, “and where there’s one, you’ll usually find more.”
Minutes later, Aron hooks what’s either a dark brownish colored river-run salmon or a brown—we’ll never know for sure, because just as he gets the fish to the base of his hole it shakes loose. Frustrating, yes, but we’re smiling because we’ve finally found active fish.
Thirty minutes later my rod tip jumps, and I ice a small steelhead. After a short break, I mark another fish that appears bigger, and it wastes no time closing in on my bait. I set the hook and there’s no question I’ve hooked a nice fish. After a fun battle and a little help from Aron, I bring up a nice brown trout.
We’re all smiling now.
A half hour later, Aron catches a salmon, then things settle for a little while, and as we all sit beside the warm, comforting orange glow and accompanying hiss of the propane heater, I hear a snap just outside the door.
I peek out, and notice the auto hook set rod holder has been tripped. I shout the announcement while quickly unzipping the door. Aron is right on my heels following me out. We find the rod tip straight and the line still, but Aron snaps the bail shut and starts reeling gently. The line pulls taut, he lifts and the rod bends deep—fish on!
A ferocious battle yields yet another brown, and Aron enjoys not only the thrill of catching a Great Lakes brown, but one on a special automatic hook setting rod holder of his own design.
We re-set the unit and head back inside, hoping the heater will soon catch up with the heat lost out the door, left open when we hastily retreated. As the shelter warms back up, the day winds down, and with temperatures still bitterly cold and wind speeds increasing, we decide it’s probably best we get back to shore before sundown.
Despite facing some brutally challenging conditions, we’ve managed to ice a few fish and enjoy yet another Lake Superior adventure. And you can bet, regardless of the weather, we’ll be back for more again soon.
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