Ice fishing is often described as a waiting game, but I see it as a lesson in paying attention.
Noticing underwater structure, whether an inlet or outlet is present and how trout travel — often looking up rather than down — can reveal areas that are easily overlooked.
That day, one such location caught my eye. The pond looked lifeless: a wide stretch of winter-locked white, silent except for the low groan of settling ice. Nothing about the tributary seemed dramatic, but I knew it was worth checking.
Beneath solid ice, the current slid quietly into the pond. As the first hole was drilled, it became clear something was happening below — a secret most anglers would have overlooked.
A slow whirlpool spun steadily, turning a single baitfish into a feeding target. About 20 feet off the flow seam, it sat safely yet close enough to feel the water’s pull. Even a foot below the surface, movement was obvious.
A baitfish was set where brook trout, splake and salmon might cruise looking for their next meal. No jigging, no adjustments. I left the line in place and waited, letting the water do the work.
The first flag tripped quickly. Then another. And another.
Disbelief set in — not at the first hit, but as each flag tripped in turn. Brook trout showed up first, followed by splake and salmon, all drawn to that single pocket of moving water. By early afternoon, I had 12 flags from that trap alone, plus a few more further out.
Then my biggest catch of the day hit. Line poured off the spool before I could reach it. The tip-up rocked as the fish pulled hard, and the weight told me immediately this was something different.
The fight was deep and steady, with repeated powerful pulls before finally turning. When it ended, a personal-best splake lay on the ice: 18.5 inches long, weighing 2.7 pounds — a surprising reward from a quiet spot that others didn’t consider.
By the time I packed up, the sky had gone flat and gray and the wind picked up, signaling it was time to leave. Seven fish had been landed: three brook trout, two salmon and two splake. One salmon measured about 15 inches, the others ranged from 12 to 14 inches. A few fish got away, and a handful of hit-and-runs didn’t stick, but that’s fishing.
Although I’d fished this pond before, I’d always stuck to the opposite side. This new spot, however, was the only one that produced all day. While I won’t be able to return this season, I know exactly where to start next time. Fishing near inlets and outlets for trout and salmon has always paid off — and this day was the perfect reminder why.
