This story is part of a series on ice-fishing culture. To read all series posts, click here.

Monday, February 4, 2019
7:05 a.m.
34 degrees
Sugar Camp, USA 

It’s just above freezing outside. It’s 68 at my dining room table, where I’m currently sitting. We had an ice storm overnight and more freezing rain is coming down now. The roads are treacherous and the temperature is supposed to start dropping soon. Everything from the trees to the roads to my truck looks like it’s been dipped in glass. The lake is undoubtedly a sloppy mess by this point, and with my 4-wheel-drive still out, I can’t even get to the lake, let alone make it out to the shack.

7:35
I just got word that the entire length of one of the nearby county highways is closed. Another is almost impassable. 

8:13
It’s ironic that ice is keeping me from the ice. 

9:05
I wonder what’s happening at the Snake Chaser. She must be lonely. All I have is Classic Country to ease my mind.

Will you miss me?
(Miss me when I’m gone)
Will you miss me?
(Miss me when I’m gone) 

10:21
Yesterday the flowage offered her bounty. Today she won’t even let me back out. 

1:03
This is worse than not getting a flag. I can’t even get my boards in the water. I keep glancing out the window. At what, I don’t know. 

4:33
Even though I’ve been home, my mind has been on the Snake Chaser all day. I just instinctively walked out the front door to pick up my tip-ups before dark, but it was just my truck sitting in the driveway. 

5:13
The workday is technically over, but I’m thinking about my girl, writing about the time we share on the ice. Tomorrow I’ll be back out there.

This story is part of a series on ice-fishing culture. To read all series posts, click here.