March 25, 2008
Even though I live in Montana and know better, I often take the first hints of spring in Billings to mean that the rest of the state is fully thawed
for the year. Working during this spring period takes on a difficulty only comparable to that week or two prior to the big game opener. I surely spend hours every week sitting at work daydreaming about the next state record sauger bending my rod, the release of a growling 25-pound catfish as I remove the hook, or the next best modification to my setline set-up.
As I was daydreaming on a fine spring afternoon, Josh, a friend of mine for many years called with a similar case of the spring fever. While on the phone, I pulled up the realtime USGS gaging station nearest our favorite fishing locale, and much to my chagrin the gage simply said ICE. Back in college, Josh worked for the USGS and did a great job lying about the gages often reading erroneously, so we decided to head for the Missouri River for a night of fishing on the following Thursday. Surely by then the ice would be off.
As Thursday neared, our planned departure time in the afternoon (after work) was moved up to the point where we had time to load our gear, purchase minnows, grab some groceries, drive 3 hours and still arrive at our destination before a normal work day would end.
As I crested the hill above the river, the only visible part of the river was the northern shore and it was very much covered in ice. As we drew closer to the river, it became apparant that there was a channel of flowing water bordered by the remnants of river ice. By remants of ice, I mean a pile of ice ranging in width from 5 to 50 yards and somewhat in the realm of 5-8 feet in depth. Something similar to what I believe polar bears inhabit. What does those gaging stations know, there is flowing water out there and we were going to fish it.
We loaded up our poles, setlines and bait and headed downstream to our favorite fishing hole. Along the way we placed setlines at opportune locations. Opportune generally being areas where we could get close enough to the river to anchor a tent stake and throw in a line. Regulations limit each person to six lines, with six hooks each. Normally we would have had 8 lines out while we tried out luck on line and rod, with four to follow when the time became right to head to the Winifred Tavern for some hot food and a beer. On this day, our frozen fingers were content to set out five lines total.
After a few games of 7,14, 21 at the Tavern, we headed back to the river for a little sleep in the kicked back bucket seats of my pickup. The morning setline pull was very slow, we pulled up two sauger in the 16-17" range, the same for walleye and one 3-4 pound cat. We spend a few hours sampling the river with rod and line and had no luck, with the floating mini icebergs hitting our lines a lot more often than anything with fins. We decided to pack it up early and heard home.
Season total:
2 sauger
2 walleye
2 channel cat
Even though I live in Montana and know better, I often take the first hints of spring in Billings to mean that the rest of the state is fully thawed
for the year. Working during this spring period takes on a difficulty only comparable to that week or two prior to the big game opener. I surely spend hours every week sitting at work daydreaming about the next state record sauger bending my rod, the release of a growling 25-pound catfish as I remove the hook, or the next best modification to my setline set-up.As I was daydreaming on a fine spring afternoon, Josh, a friend of mine for many years called with a similar case of the spring fever. While on the phone, I pulled up the realtime USGS gaging station nearest our favorite fishing locale, and much to my chagrin the gage simply said ICE. Back in college, Josh worked for the USGS and did a great job lying about the gages often reading erroneously, so we decided to head for the Missouri River for a night of fishing on the following Thursday. Surely by then the ice would be off.
As Thursday neared, our planned departure time in the afternoon (after work) was moved up to the point where we had time to load our gear, purchase minnows, grab some groceries, drive 3 hours and still arrive at our destination before a normal work day would end.
As I crested the hill above the river, the only visible part of the river was the northern shore and it was very much covered in ice. As we drew closer to the river, it became apparant that there was a channel of flowing water bordered by the remnants of river ice. By remants of ice, I mean a pile of ice ranging in width from 5 to 50 yards and somewhat in the realm of 5-8 feet in depth. Something similar to what I believe polar bears inhabit. What does those gaging stations know, there is flowing water out there and we were going to fish it.
We loaded up our poles, setlines and bait and headed downstream to our favorite fishing hole. Along the way we placed setlines at opportune locations. Opportune generally being areas where we could get close enough to the river to anchor a tent stake and throw in a line. Regulations limit each person to six lines, with six hooks each. Normally we would have had 8 lines out while we tried out luck on line and rod, with four to follow when the time became right to head to the Winifred Tavern for some hot food and a beer. On this day, our frozen fingers were content to set out five lines total.
After a few games of 7,14, 21 at the Tavern, we headed back to the river for a little sleep in the kicked back bucket seats of my pickup. The morning setline pull was very slow, we pulled up two sauger in the 16-17" range, the same for walleye and one 3-4 pound cat. We spend a few hours sampling the river with rod and line and had no luck, with the floating mini icebergs hitting our lines a lot more often than anything with fins. We decided to pack it up early and heard home.
Season total:
2 sauger
2 walleye
2 channel cat
