DECEMBER 29TH ICE FISHING REPORT – BALLARD’S RESORT

LAKE OF THE WOODS ICE FISHING! BALLARD'S RESORT! DECEMBER WALLEYE FISHING!
Hey Sportsfans!
 
 
It’s WINTER BREAK at Ballard’s Resort! 
 
We have had a number of families join us this week while the kids are out of school… Can’t beat that! BIG smiles all around while the kids spill the fish stories… According to them, the fishing is “LIT”.
 
The guides have continued to monitor the ice conditions as the mild temperatures have lingered for a few days. Most of the snow has melted on the lake, so if you are headed this way pack your boots and ice cleats. Better toss in the mittens too… temperatures are scheduled to plummet here soon. 
 
As we look ahead this week… Happy New Year!  (What’s your New Year’s resolution? Ours is to FISH MORE!) If that’s the case for you too… we still have openings for 2025 winter ice fishing reservations. Give us a call and head our way soon!
 
 
SET THE HOOK!
LAKE OF THE WOODS ICE FISHING! BALLARD'S RESORT! DECEMBER WALLEYE FISHING!
KEEP UP WITH RUSTY THIS WEEK
The Ultimate Canadian Fishing Adventure - Ballard's Black Island

SEASON 2, EPISODE 21

Season TWO – Episode 21 – “Capture the Kraken”

 

 

Rusty mended the floating fly line once, put the dry fly in a direct path of the Monfuckingtana state record rainbow trout, and pursed down on the right side of his lower lip. Thousand-one… Thousand-two… Thousand-three…

On three he twitched the rod tip and watched the magnificent fish eat. Then he pulled parallel to the water line and felt its jaw receive the hook. Game on!

The first run down river put immense pressure on the Hatch Iconic “Capture the Kraken” Fly Reel. By quickly tweaking the drag, Rusty was able to protect the tippet and manage control over the fish.

Faster current greeted him midriver with a depth that now exceeded his waistline. He was neither gaining nor losing distance, but happy the click and pawl braking system on the fly reel offered time tested precision.

Then… with angler leaning into the backbone of the rod… The massive trout changed directions and charged up the river toward its opponent. This counter move of 180-degrees unpredictable caused an immediate chain reaction throwing slack to Rusty’s line and off balanced footing to his Simms Pro G4 Powerlock wading boots with Vibram soles.

“Down goes Frasier” was the call by Howard Cosell as the fish and the fisherman crossed paths underneath the surface of the Windrush River. Who had been played the most was then confirmed as the rainbow trout gave a wink and a nod, seconds before Rusty’s skull crashed into a large boulder that was part of a bedload resting on the riverbed.

Sally was high on the ridge saddled on a horse named Sincerity. Next to her was another American Quarter horse… But this one was Champagne color… An extremely rare variation of gold.

The saddle had been procured from a skilled leather craftsman. There was a pattern traced into the raw hide featuring a cowboy and cowgirl holding hands and riding off into the sunset. The inscription across the cantle of the saddle read: “I’ll ride to the ends of the earth with you.”

Rusty took the reins from Sally and together they rode southeast toward the Crow Indian Reservation. Along the route they encountered a dome-shaped structure built from saplings and covered with blankets. Inside they could hear a drum beat and they entered without caution.

Surrounded by intense heat they joined a ceremony of positive energy that celebrated the bonding of two soul sisters. This was more than a typical friendship and their kindred spirit was palpable.

Then there was singing, and a profound level of understanding encompassed the tent, along with multiple rounds of steam. Ellie was also in the lodge and sat with them in a circle around the central pit.

The ship raced down the back side of a sixty-foot swell and when they reached the trough, saltwater erupted over the bow and cast the crew from its deck. This wall of water had been generated by a creature never once before seen off the coast of Australia.

The team of fishermen regained their footing and raced back to their angling posts aboard the 171-foot all-aluminum Project 406. The six-deck yacht, from Royal Huisman and Vripack yacht design, is the world’s largest sportfishing vessel. And at the helm was Sally Squatsnfishes peering through the glass of the captain’s tower.

Rusty was lightheaded. Was he seasick?

The psychedelics were wearing off and he was losing focus. He felt moisture on his forehead and the snow in which he lay was apple red. This was accompanied by a headache, nausea, and ringing in his ears.

“Can you… Can you hear… Rusty, can you hear me?” demanded Sally.

And he responded, “It’s ok. I know. I know the truth. I know you must…”

     “Rusty… Be still… You’ve been injured. Were you on top of this rock? Did you fall… Stay with me Rusty… Stay with me!”

“Send Ellie for help. Ellie can help us” he murmured.

     “She’s not here Rusty. It’s me. It’s me, Sally. I’m here. I’m always here.”

Rusty was pouring Champagne and toasting the wedding. The bride lifted her veil and there was an expressionless look covering her face. There was no emotion. No visible signs of happiness, sadness, fear, anger, regret, or any other imaginable feeling.

Jackie Loonsuckle laid motionless. The echo of the .243 Winchester was pounding in Rusty’s ears. His headache was big enough to kill an elephant and he was vomiting from the nausea. The smirk was gone from Jackie’s face.

Sally used her cowgirl scarf and applied pressure to the trauma. She could see lively blood cells in the snow attempting to clot… Then go cold.

There was no service on her cell phone. The reception was minimal near the river bottom. She would have to get to higher ground to phone for help or try to load Rusty into the Polaris Ranger on her own.

Rusty shook hands with Professor Cosmoid Scale and watched Sally board a plane. His arms and legs felt weak.

“Sally, it’s ok.” His speech was slurred. “I’ve seen the truth… I know… I know you must “capture the Kraken.”

“We gotta go Rusty! Stay with me! Stay awake!” she cried. Then his set of unequal pupils attempted to hide behind closed eyelids.

–            To Be Continued – 

DECEMBER 22ND ICE FISHING UPDATE

LAKE OF THE WOODS ICE FISHING. BALLARD'S RESORT.
LAKE OF THE WOODS ICE FISHING. BALLARD'S RESORT.
 
Hey Sportsfans!
 
It has been another good week on Lake of the Woods! A lot of Ballard’s Resort employees, and their families, have been out on the lake this week… pretty nice perk of the job. 
 
Fishing has remained steady throughout the week. Stay patient, the mid-day bite has been better than the morning bite.  Full buckets of fish have been coming in, but slot fish and overs have been hard to come by. 
 
The guides have continued to check ice conditions daily and are seeing 13+ inches of ice. As the temperatures warm up over the next few days, the guides will continue to monitor the ice. 
 
Special shoutout to Carol. She celebrated her birthday on the ice yesterday. Can you think of a better birthday trip?? I don’t think so. 
 
That’s all for this week… Merry Christmas and SET THE HOOK!
KEEP UP WITH RUSTY THIS WEEK
The Ultimate Canadian Fishing Adventure - Ballard's Black Island

SEASON 2, EPISODE 20


In addition to finding various forms of dry flies in the fly box, Rusty also found some spineless cactus wrapped in cellophane. He was no longer a sheep… But a wolf… And very near the river he leaned the fly rod against a nearby thornbush and climbed an isolated boulder stretching 10-feet high and 4-feet in diameter.

Perched on top it was round and smooth like a countertop. He sat cross legged facing the Windrush River… Placed the three dead drake greenhead mallards in a triangle around himself… And removed the peyote from his flannel shirt pocket. “The eagle has landed.”

There was no Native American or First Nation lineage in the Flather’s ancestry, but Rusty knew the ritual of ingesting the dried crowns of the cactus was sacred for these cultures. He had also been quick to Google that this drug was spiritually considered the “eyes and ears of all things”. Hence his willingness to consume. And if one leaflet was good… The entire plant must be great.

With one exasperated swallow the contents of the clear package went down the hatch and “the trip” shifted into first gear. At the beginning it was a melodic chant. Rusty humming at a low volume. Then the ducks rose to their orange webbed feet… Marched high knees in sync with the beat… And circled their hunter, quacking one guttural note per step.

Now, with palms raised and eyes to the sky he searched for the clouds of rhyme and reason. His purring bumped into screeching as the drug hit second gear. The ducks’ pace accelerated as well, using their flapping wings to gain ground speed.

Sally Squatsnfishes was the first to appear. She was walking through the hallway of the lodge heading toward Rusty’s room and reaching for the doorknob. Glancing over both shoulders her hands found the door and she jiggled the grip.

No entrance…

Then glancing from floor to ceiling she rapped gently on the contemporary mahogany. Again, no response. She stepped back, held her breath, raised an arm to knock louder… Only then, turned and retreated to her room.

The third gear hit Rusty with a level 7 g-force as the classic hallucinogen put the three ducks airborne with their wings brushing metallic strokes of green across the sky. In unison they sang “I want to know what love is” by Foreigner.

Next, tears from his eyes formed a river that connected to the Windrush currents. Sally was below in a ClackaCraft drift boat attempting to row her way to the top of the rock. Her shoulders strained against the oar locks in chaotic fashion. There was no cadence in a stroke rate that quickly drained her resources.

Overwhelming visions shifted to fourth gear without a clutch. Ellie Waylayer raced across the tops of cotton ball cumulus clouds, with a nine-foot-tall grizzly weighing half-a-ton in hot pursuit. Her terrified strides became engulfed in mud (she needed a woman’s size-10 Muck Boot) as she struggled to escape the bear.

Rusty was now in the ClackaCraft drift boat, oaring against the current, holding steady against the edge of the cloud encouraging Ellie to “jump for it!” The grizz’s facial features were lit with a strobe light turning his face from light to dark, light to dark. His profile was recognizable.

Sally was in the river treading water and drifting downstream further and further from sight. The three drake mallards circled high overhead singing “Band on the Run”… A song by Paul McCartney and Wings. Rusty was sailor Sam, instantly searching for both Sally and Ellie.

Then… A single shot was fired… And the crack of a firearm echoed down the Windrush. The grizzly bear was Jackie Loonsuckle. He had taken a direct hit to the heart. It was a critical and fatal injury with massive internal bleeding. His damage would require immediate medical attention. Any seasoned hunter understood survival rates from such wounds are very low.

Sally was beyond sight. Ellie had disappeared amongst the clouds. Rusty had a .243 Winchester rifle lying at his feet. And his mind raced… And he thought, “Who shot Jackie Loonsuckle?”

Then the mallards touched down as the river went quiet and there was snow coming to the foothills. Rusty climbed down from his sanctitude atop the cylinder-shaped rock and made way for the fly-fishing rod leaning in the adjacent bush.

With rod in hand and a purple size #22 Baetis Emerger Cripple tied on the leader, he walked silently and directly toward the river’s edge. One-eighth of a mile downriver to his south was the legendary “No Fucking Way” rapids. Directly in front of him… Midstream… Was a tailing rainbow trout with a visibly splintered dorsal fin and an oversized black dot (the size of a silver dollar) on its bluish green back.

Rusty was viewing the fish from its “port side” as it made its way against the steady flow of the river. THE markings on this particular rainbow trout appeared identical to the fish he had previously seen in Archer Sting’s video production with Sally and Ellie and their illustrious would-be Montana state record fish.

“Could it be?!” he thought… Crouching low and duck walking the remaining ten yards where his feet got wet.

And then the great fish disappeared… Ever so briefly before surfacing again… Eight feet further upstream from its original sighting.

“YES, this is it!” he confirmed… The fragmented dorsal fin and the black patch were unmistakable. So was the sound of the Polaris XP 1000 motor being turned over and driven away. Its 999cc ProStar engine that produces 82 horsepower was immediately a faint noise.

He didn’t stress… He didn’t even turn around to see who was making off with the side by side ATV. This was the NEW Rusty. THE Rusty that kept his eye on the prize and took care of himself first!

His next breath brought a warm calming to his sensory nerves. His shoulders were relaxed and his grip on the fly rod in his hands was firm but not clutching.

With two back casts, including a double haul, Rusty went full send with the floating line landing effortlessly four feet above the target. In his mind, “the eagle has landed.”

–            To Be Continued –