fishing

By Saturday afternoon, I had hit a point where it didn’t really matter how soaked everything was. What had started off as a wet heavy snow during our snowmobile ride to the portage, had slowly transitioned to a sleet after the sun fully came up. Our packs where covered in snow, everything in them soggy, my mittens water-logged from wiping snow off the flasher screen every few minutes and my already heavy ice fishing jacket and bibs were even heavier. There was actually a sense of relief with succumbing to the fact that nothing was going to be dry anymore and it didn’t matter. We stuck it out for a few more hours just in case the lake trout changed their mood, but it would ultimately be a one-fish day.