We’re all saying, “What a strange winter.” And here, in early March, we finally get some real snow. As we were blowing snow, shoveling and digging out cars, my wife and I talked about the last time we had this kind of snow. Probably the winter of 2014-2015, and that was an anomaly.
It wasn’t before, I don’t think I’m being nostalgic in my belief that there used to be a lot more snow in Midcoast Maine. And it was much colder.
Which brings me to my topic today: ice fishing.
My dad loved it. Looking back, I think it was similar to his love of hunting in the fall. A chance to be alone with your thoughts, solitude, not the hope of catching a fish or shooting a deer. He always selected the most isolated ponds to fish, where he was least likely to see others on the ice.
That said, he wasn’t always alone, and my brothers and I often accompanied him, finding ways to entertain ourselves in the open expanses of hard water. Skating, throwing snowballs at each other, entertaining the fish in the bait bucket.
My best friend’s dad was a frequent ice fishing buddy of my dad’s. My friend and his father would snowmobile down from their house on High Street, and while the old men manned the traps, we would bomb the snowmobiles. As the son of parents who weren’t much into motorized recreation, those were good days.
One memorable afternoon, a thaw had left an inch or two of standing water on top of the 12 or so inches of ice. Undeterred, my friend and I raced fish through the muddy water.
I don’t remember ever eating any of the fish that was taken out of the ice. Then, as now, the bass were usually released back through the hole, while the pike were left out for the scavengers. Probably crows back then, but nowadays, they’re much more likely to be caught by a bald eagle. I still find myself in awe of those majestic raptors, once so uncommon. A rare environmental success story.
Monday, March 6
School Board Meeting, 6 p.m., Walsh Common, LCS
Tuesday March 7
Library open 3-6pm 208 Main Street
AA meeting 12 pm, Community Building, 18 Searsmont Road
Wednesday March 8
Library open 2-5, 208 Main Street
Town Planning Panel, 7 p.m., Town Hall Office
Thursday March 9
Conservation Commission, 4 p.m. Municipal Office
Friday March 10
Library open 9-12, 208 Main Street
AA meeting 12 pm, Community Building, 18 Searsmont Road
Saturday, March 11
Library open 9-12, 208 Main Street
Sunday March 12
United Christian Church, 9:30 a.m. Worship, 18 Searsmont Road
Bayshore Baptist Church, 9:30 a.m. Sunday School, 11:00 a.m. Worship, 2648 Atlantic Highway I have no doubt that ice fishing seems like a strange activity to those not from far northern climes. It’s cold and the wind can be strong on the open expanse of a frozen lake. My dad was never into ice fishing shacks, but they can be amazing stuff. The pride and joy of many boys. A warm place to while away the day, alone or with friends, simply enjoying the peace of the Maine winter.
I married a woman who is passionate about ice fishing and joins her father in hard water. We are now the proud owners of an insulated tent, heater and all, that can be easily collapsed and dragged to the lake, and makes for an overall more enjoyable experience. compared to my memories of being fully exposed to the elements.
That being said, I really like the memory of sitting on an ice-bound dock at the edge of Coleman Pond, paperback in hand, next to my dad; staring out over the expanse of ice in complete silence, just waiting for that orange flag to rise.
Lincolnville Central School PTO Ice Fishing Derby
Sunday morning was the annual ice fishing derby hosted by the Lincolnville Parent Teacher Organization. It couldn’t have been a more perfect day for this as downtown Norton Pond was full of families and ice fishing traps.
In addition to prizes for the fish, raffle tickets and food were sold, with Andy Skrivanich’s monster grill fired up in the Breezemere Park Gazebo. Organizer Chelsea Mitchell estimated that up to 40 groups and individuals had signed up.
Away from lonely lake trips with my dad, Norton’s has always been the busiest lake in town, and on Sunday morning it was full of kids digging in the snow, older kids on snowmobiles, and the occasional dog young man looking for his lost. tennis ball
Local businesses, including Maine Sport and Maine Outdoor Guides, donated prizes. Another great example of a small town and hardworking parents supporting their school and teachers.
I often think about the familiarity we all have in a small town, all the faces we see so often. The people you greet, or even talk to about the weather, and whose names you may not even know. The waves and nods we exchange as we pass on the road. I’ve heard that Mainers don’t have a reputation for being the friendliest of people, and maybe there’s some truth to that.
There is probably still some Puritan reserve in our blood, or perhaps just an old-fashioned distrust of strangers. The way we refer to people “from afar” can be downright cruel at times. And of course, being “from afar” can be true to some locals even if you were born here: “Just because a cat has kittens in the oven, that doesn’t make them cookies.”
I prefer to think that some of us may take a while to warm up to. And all my life, I’ve been amazed at all the little acts of kindness that happen here every day. The big truck pulling an unknown car out of a ditch in a snowstorm. Doors were kept open, lawns mowed for a family going through a hard time, charity dinners. The personal plow truck that clears the ridge at the end of his neighbors’ driveway.
The quiet little things that are done every day that let you know you are recognized.