By Cathy Blumig

The week before NJ OWL’s ice fishing outing crippling winds and single digit temperatures barreled down from Canada and swept across New Jersey, serving up a steely taste of the north. Last year the outing was washed out because of questionable ice conditions. Now we were wondering if it was going to be too cold. "I don’t want to punish them," said Keith, OWL’s ice fishing instructor. "I want it to be fun."

Many of you probably know about Keith Griglak already. That he has a fisheries degree from Cook College, that he established and was president of the first college chapter of Trout Unlimited in the US. That he worked in fisheries in New Jersey and Alaska, and that the Division of Fish & Wildlife use to pay him to teach people how to fish. Keith is so fish obsessed he could have been born with gills, and I suspect that vestigial versions are buried somewhere beneath his trademark beard!

Hearing the wind beat against the window and seeing the outside thermometer registering 25-degrees F, I thought to myself, "Do I really want to be out on the ice in this? Why should I torture myself?" Then I thought about the hazards of rescheduling. How folks can’t always make it on the new date, how there was no guarantee that it would be any warmer the next time around, and that we have safe ice now, and that if we all just dressed correctly it wouldn’t be so bad. "Keith, I think we should go ahead with it. I’ll send everyone information about how to dress for the cold, and if it’s too much, we’ll just go home."

"Alright," he said, his voice part resignation and trepidation. "We’ll go for it."

After a night of howling winds that were making me have second thoughts, in the morning only a gentle breeze rustled the trees. Eventually even that stopped. The sky was sparkling blue. It was looking good.

As we assembled next to Lake Musconetcong, Keith explained what we’d be doing. He pointed out some safety considerations about ice. You need a minimum of 4-inches of ice to safely support two people, and at least 7-inches to support a group. Lake Musconetcong had 8-inches so we were in good shape. "If you and a friend decide to go ice fishing by yourselves," explained Keith, "you want to check the thickness of the ice as you move because it isn’t necessarily the same throughout a lake." He said to avoid areas near feeder streams and seeps where ice tends to be thinner.

Keith provided all the fishing equipment and brought a power auger and a "spud" (a long, heavy metal bar) to make holes in the ice. We got brief lessons about the different types of equipment. Keith’s father, Joe, showed how to set "tip-ups," a contraption that is set over a hole which has a hook and line attached. Keith showed others how to use the auger, an engine-driven, hand-held drill that makes an 8-inch wide hole in the ice. The growl of the engine made it seem like it could pull you into the hole, but a few OWLs gave it a try, and realized it wasn’t as unmanageable as it appeared.

Keith explained a few regulations concerning ice fishing. That you could use both tip-ups and jigs (fishing by hand using a small rod), but the combined total of either method couldn’t exceed five lines per person. Each tip-up had to display the name of the person who was using it.

The ice fishing spirits were with us because it wasn’t long before we started catching bluegills and yellow perch. A few folks caught chain pickerel. They were usually caught on tip-ups, but a few OWLers actually caught them while jigging.

I brought a thermometer to check the air temperature. In the beginning it was 25-degrees F, but still pleasant because it wasn’t windy. I didn’t even wear my coat for the first hour. But as the sun moved across the sky, the temperature followed suit. Nineteen-degrees. Fourteen-degrees, eleven-degrees, and eight-degrees. At eight-degrees Keith quickly demonstrated how to filet a freshly caught fish. I say quickly because if he waited too long it froze solid.

Finally it was dark, and the thermometer read FOUR-degrees! We hated to leave but four-degrees, even without wind, was the limit. The moon, an impossibly large, luminescent disk rising in the east, cast a serene light over the lake. Had we had a little fire or something to "recharge" our numbed hands and feet we might have stayed all night. But we didn’t. We loaded the equipment on our sleds and looked around to make sure we got everything. With the moon behind her, Amy Moore stood steadfast with her jigging rod over a hole. "You’re leaving?" she said, looking up to see our gear packed.

What a trooper! But I know how she felt. The peacefulness of the lake, the communal pleasures of sharing a time and space in the outdoors, and the magic of learning something new. Who would want that to end? Thanks to Keith, Joe, the fish, and the ice fishing spirits. We had a marvelous day that marked the winter with sweetness and light that warmed our hearts.

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