Fish and Chips

Grab a pole, chop through the ice and you'll get a whole new angler on winter at Deep Creek Lake.

By Don Beaulieu

Special to The Washington Post
Wednesday, January 26, 2005; Page C02

Samuel Johnson, legend has it, once likened fishing to a stick on a string, with a worm at one end and a fool at the other. I shiver to think how the British author would have described ice fishing. The mere idea might have completely confounded his literary sensibilities.

And with good reason. Ice fishing seems to belong in a chapter from a 19th-century frontiersman's handbook -- chop a hole in the ice, drop a line, and hope the lake's abundance secures your survival. Would anyone do this just for fun?

"Ya, you betcha" is what they'll tell you in Minnesota. There it is a statewide pastime. But ice fishing attracts a hardy following even beyond the northern tier. As far south as Maryland, even. Drive past Deep Creek Lake in Western Maryland on a winter day, and you'll see fishermen dotting the ice like sprinkles on a vanilla cone.

The secret is this: Maryland's panhandle is a virtual corridor to another climate, rising well into the Allegheny highlands, beckoning with the promise of relief from summer heat and winter slush. Here, cooler temperatures mean a downy blanket of snow usually covers the ground by New Year's, and the ice can stay thick enough to fish through the end of March.

Last winter I tapped my inner Inuit at Deep Creek Lake. Twelve miles long, the lake is one of the state's largest. With much of its shoreline surrounded by forest and parks, and Wisp ski resort descending right to the lakefront, this place has to be the winter sport capital of Maryland.

Most Februaries at Deep Creek, an ice-fishing tournament attracts seasoned competitors. (Plans for this year's tournament were uncertain at press time, given the late arrival of freezing temperatures. But outfitters now report one to five inches of ice on the lake and fishing has begun in earnest.) I decided to sign up, although I don't even own a rod and I know less about ice fishing than Snoop Dogg knows about NASCAR. This was not an act of sheer hubris; I was just hoping to learn among pros.

It was a good instinct. On the lake's edge at Bill's Outdoor Center, the tournament's sponsor, I met up with Brent Nelson of Columbia, who kindly agreed to help me catch a fish. Brent is a bear of a man and, judging by his camouflage gear, an ardent outdoorsman. He started ice fishing while at college in Indiana, 30 years ago. To stay warm, he told me, he would drive out on the lake in his Plymouth Valiant, drill a hole and then fish out the car door. "I nearly flunked out of school," he said, "because I kept skipping class to go out ice fishing."

After college he managed to suppress his obsession. He's still an avid angler, but he hadn't gone ice fishing since -- until that day. He missed it. "You've got to be half crazy," he said, "but it's a lot of fun."

The weather was certifiably frigid as I walked onto the lake with Brent at 8 a.m., clutching a five-gallon bucket and a borrowed rod. The temperature was in the 20s and falling, and a snowstorm cast an opaque haze that nearly obscured the other fishermen, who were already fanned out across the ice. Good thing I was dressed like someone attending a late-season Packers game at Lambeau Field. Layers, lots of layers.

When we reached our spot, we drilled holes in the ice with an enormous hand drill, or ice auger, and following Brent's instructions I cleared slush from my hole with a scoop, baited my hook with a small bee larva, sat on my overturned fish bucket and lowered my line until the hook hit bottom. Then I reeled in the line just a bit and started jigging it up and down slightly to attract fish. And I kept jigging, and jigging, and sometimes I wished I had a Valiant to sit inside. When the wind gusted to about 30 mph, blowing streams of snow like frozen phantasms, all I could do was huddle over my hole.

With ample time to think, it occurred to me that this sport is an apt metaphor for life and death. In the depth of winter, under 18 inches of ice, in water that would kill us in minutes, perch and bass were traversing the lake in schools, swimming, feeding, surviving. And from this hole in the ice, life could emerge. Ice fishing seems akin to the ancient tradition of bringing evergreens home in winter as a reminder that, through the coldest, darkest times, life persists.

So there I sat in this frosted landscape, jigging, pontificating and waiting. Now and then I had to stand, when the pail I sat on felt as if it were siphoning all the cold of Deep Creek Lake up through my body. But I stayed at my hole, standing or sitting, and I jigged. I really wanted that fish.

Then, after almost two hours, I finally heard the words that anglers have uttered in some form since the invention of the fishing rod: "I got something!" Brent felt a nibble, saw the telltale bend of the pole and, with the dexterity of a veteran fisherman, set the hook with a gentle tug. Then slowly he reeled in his fish.

It was a yellow perch, about nine inches long, which Brent held admiringly after pulling it from the ice. "She's a fat one," he said. This time of year, he said, the female perch is filled with eggs, which she lays in the shallows after the ice breaks in the spring.

It was a handsome fish, too, with dark stripes on a yellow body, an arched fin above and reddish fins below. The largest yellow perch catch recorded in Maryland was 2 pounds 6 ounces. Brent's was almost a pound.

Not bad for his first winter fish in 30 years. He had persevered, I started thinking, like all the great protagonists who overcame adversity and found redemption. Hemingway's Santiago catches the marlin. Oliver Twist claims his inheritance. Luke Skywalker blasts the Death Star.

Damn, I was cold.

Finally, the 1 p.m. tournament deadline approached, and soon the fishermen were packing up their poles. So Brent and I pulled up our lines and headed to Bill's, where everyone's catch would be weighed.

There were prizes for the largest bluegill, the largest crappie, and -- because yellow perch were so plentiful -- the greatest quantity of perch by weight. The yellow perch champion managed to reel in 12 fish. That was nearly nine pounds of perch. Some fishermen returned to the ice to cast their luck. Not me. My new goal for the day -- revised from the earlier catch-a-fish goal -- was to return to my motel room and turn up the heat. And I succeeded brilliantly.

The next day, Sunday, was gorgeous. The clouds cleared, the wind subsided and the air warmed. I planned a drive around the lake and a stop at Swallow Falls State Park to see the frozen cascades. It would be a perfect day for ice fishing, with the sun warming my back, but I decided to catch my fish another day. There was no rush. Besides, remember what happened to Santiago's marlin? His prize catch was eaten by sharks. It just doesn't pay to be obsessive.

Escape Keys

GETTING THERE: Deep Creek Lake is about a three-hour drive from Washington. Take I-270 past Frederick onto I-70 toward Hancock, Md., then I-68 through Cumberland. Take Exit 14A and follow Route 219 south to the lake.

ICE FISHING: For supplies, try Deep Creek Outfitters (32 Outfitters Way, 301-387-2200, www.deepcreekoutfitter.com), where you can buy all you need for a day of ice fishing for about $50, plus $5 to rent an auger. Ask the staff where the fishing is good -- and safe -- that day, or just look for people out on the lake. Plans for the Deep Creek Lake Ice Fishing Tournament usually held in February are uncertain, given this year's late-coming freeze. For information, contact Bill's Outdoor Center, 20768 Garrett Hwy., 301-387-3474, www.billsoutdoorcenter.com. Other ice fishing spots in the region include Scotts Run Lake at French Creek State Park in southeastern Pennsylvania about 50 miles from Philadelphia (843 Park Rd., Elverson, 610-582-9680, www.dcnr.state.pa.us/stateparks/parks/frenchcreek.aspx). Farther away -- about four hours from the District, well north of Altoona -- is Parker Dam State Park in central Pennsylvania (28 Fairview Rd., Penfield, 814-765-0630, www.dcnr.state.pa.us/stateparks/parks/parkerdam.aspx). Parker Dam features a kids' ice-fishing derby this Saturday. For current ice-fishing conditions at all of Pennsylvania's state parks, go to www.dcnr.state.pa.us/stateparks/winter/wintera.aspx.

STAYING THERE: Will o' the Wisp (20160 Garrett Hwy., Oakland, Md., 301-387-5503, www.willothewisp.com) has lakeside condominium units up to three bedrooms, starting at $97 a night. For luxury and charm, nothing beats the Lake Pointe Inn (174 Lake Pointe Dr., McHenry, Md., 301-387-0111, www.deepcreekinns.com), nestled between the lake and the resort with a porch and great room overlooking the cove. Rooms are from $173 to $259 a night.

EATING THERE: Deep Creek Brewing Company (75 Visitor's Center Dr., McHenry, Md., 301-387-2182, www.deepcreekbrewing.com) has good pub-style food for lunch or dinner. Great wings, and the beer's good, too. The closest thing to haute cuisine may be DC's Bar and Restaurant at Wisp Resort (296 Marsh Hill Rd., McHenry, Md., 301-387-4911, www.wispresort.com). Typical steaks, salads and seafood.

INFO: Garrett County visitors information, 301-387-4386, www.garrettchamber.com.