That time we went ice fishing...

Back when I lived in Utah, my family used to spend many winters ice fishing at Strawberry Lake Reservoir. I don’t remember exactly what kind of fish we were after, but I assume that it was some sort of trout. We’d go out into the middle of a lake, and with an auger, drill a hole through three feet of ice. Then we’d wait around for hours, waiting for something to bite. Sometimes we’d catch fish, sometimes not.

Ice fishing, at least in Utah, is not as cold as one might think.  With the sun reflecting off all that ice, sometimes it would feel warm enough to take off our coats. That, or we just got used to the cold. Sometimes, it would seem rather warm out. It was on one such day that we had to cut out fishing short. We’d been out until early afternoon, when the sun was high in the say. It was at the time that we started to hear loud, groaning noises that seemed to echo over the whole lake. It was the sounding of ice cracking.

We decided to call it quits, and hastily made our way back to the car—only to find that the ice had melted along the shore. The gap was as large as three or four feet in places. We moved along the edge of the floating slab of ice until we could find a spot where the ice seemed to still connect. Then, we made a running leap for solid land. My sisters and I made it alight. I guess we were light enough to not really make a dent in the ice. However, dad was not so lucky. During his running leap, his foot broke the ice and fell in. Luckily, the water was shallow and dad only suffered an incredibly cold and wet foot.

"That Time We Went Ice Fishing..."
intaglio, etching with aquatint, 11"x17"