Ben Moyer: Trip from Pennsylvania to Minnesota’s Lake of the Woods worth the miles to extend ice-fishing season

My wife’s observation summed it up. “Do you realize you are going in the opposite direction of 99% of people traveling this time of year?”

“Uh, yep!”

That exchange followed a disclosure that my friends and I hadn’t had enough ice-fishing during the two-week window of safe ice we’d enjoyed in mid-January, the longest span to grace southern Pennsylvania waters in several winters, and that friend Eugene Gordon and I were headed to Lake of the Woods, Minnesota, to extend our ice-angling prospects.

Lake of the Woods is as far north as you can go in Minnesota. On Minnesota’s map, that “bump” protruding into Canada embraces Lake of the Woods.

Angle Township, a Minnesota community on the lake’s northwest shore is the northernmost location in the contiguous 48 states, and the only lower-48 point north of the 49th parallel. 

The lake is big, irregularly shaped but roughly 70 miles long and wide. It has 65,000 miles of shoreline and boasts more than 14,000 islands. It’s the sixth largest lake (after the Great Lakes) at least partially within U. S. borders. I didn’t know any of this before we ventured there, which proves the benefit of occasionally leaving your comfort zone to travel.

Lake of the Woods is also known as “Walleye Capital of the World.”

But two infrequent ice-fishermen from southern Pennsylvania could never access this huge lake’s fish without outfitting help. So, we signed onto a promotional trip with Ballard’s Resort at Baudette, Minn., that provided travel from Minneapolis, cabin lodging, meals, bait, basic tackle, and, most importantly, travel across the lake to a heated “fish house.”

MORE FISHING FEATURES FROM OUTDOOR NEWS:

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Travel is by what they call a “bombardier.” These are everywhere, growling across the lake from various outfitters and camps. They’re about the size of a mini-bus, fitted with skis on the front and tracks, like a ‘dozer, at the rear for propulsion.

Bombardiers are fast. They have to be on a 70-mile lake. Kicking up a cloud of snow-spray, and trailing a plume of exhaust, they look like plunging sand-worms from Dune as they buck and bounce across the fractured, drifted surface.

We bucked along for an hour each day to our fish-house about 30 miles north of Ballard’s base-camp at the mouth of Rainy River. It’s disorienting to cross a frozen lake out of sight of land. It could be another planet, jagged shards thrust upward and snow-dunes snaking away to the horizon. The wind never relents.

I’ll admit that I’d envisioned shunning the fish-house and “toughing out” the weather on the open lake. Silly me. Unless you are one of the very few people alive today hardened to Arctic life outdoors, this fantasy wasn’t possible. During our stay, morning temperatures were -26 F, and windchills at -60 F. Walking from the cabin to the lodge in the evening you, literally, “dressed for dinner,” with parka, face-mask, overalls, and gloves.

That made the austere and rustic fish-house not only inviting but life-support, with its hissing propane heater (there was ample safe ventilation through the ill-fitting door).

The fishing was worth it. Inside the house were eight holes drilled in the 36-inch ice. Minnesota rules allow only two lines per angler, so we dropped down four lines with quarter-ounce pink-and-white jigs spiced with minnows.

Eugene and I both wished we could have reached the spot earlier each morning because immediately on arrival we reveled in a brief but hectic bite of truly “jumbo perch.” I know what we consider a “jumbo perch” back here, so these Lake of the Woods perch were “jumbo jumbo perch.”

These were gorgeous fish. Long, deep, broad, and hyper-girthed, burnished gold streaked by olive bars, all set off by fiery orange fins.

After that flurry, the bites were spaced but steady. We caught lots of sauger and learned to distinguish those from smaller walleyes.

Big walleyes were more elusive, but Eugene got into them at the very end of the trip. We could hear Ballard’s bombardier growling closer to retrieve us when he got a heavy bite.

“This feels like a good fish,” he announced.

A moment later it was off due to a pulled knot on a lodge-provided rig. He had trouble maneuvering another big one through the 3-foot ice tunnel and it wriggled free just before exit. Finally, as the bombardier pulled up outside, Eugene iced a beautiful walleye that fell within the Lake of the Woods slot limit and so had to be released.

We slapped it quickly against the ruler on the wall and read a crude 23 inches. I believe it would have registered more if we’d taken the time to straighten it out against the rule. 

Headed home, I realized we were then heading in the same direction as 99% of travelers, though at a very different latitude.