A tale of two fishes: Finding redemption on the ice 

This is a story of revenge. Two stories, actually. Tales of elusive species that successfully evaded my capture — until the triumphant moment when they didn’t.

Our first story begins six years ago, right about the time I was really diving into ice fishing. My buddy Skyler invited me to fish Clark Canyon, a Montana reservoir that’s home to a freshwater cod species called burbot. In Idaho, burbot are only found in the Kootenai River, where a successful conservation effort recently led to Fish and Game opening a fishery there for the first time in almost 30 years.

Located five-and-a-half hours away, Clark Canyon is likely the closest burbot spot to Boise. But I got skunked on my first visit, which doesn’t sit well for someone as competitive as me.

Fast forward to last month. Skyler was making another Clark run — the opportunity I’d been waiting for!

After staying the night in eastern Idaho, we arrived at the remote reservoir around sunrise. It was just as I remembered, with clear, black ice measuring two feet thick.

I was armed with two things I didn’t have on my previous trip — more ice fishing experience and a flasher, a vital tool for locating fish under the ice. Good thing, too, because this promised to be another tough day. Winds were whipping at 20 mph, and I went more than an hour before seeing a fish on the flasher. Still, I remained determined.

After moving around, I finally marked a fish near the bottom, 25 feet down. It rejected my jig twice, so I reeled up and reevaluated. Playing a hunch, I tied on a Lindy glow spoon with an insertable glowstick. I tipped the luminescent lure with cut bait and sent it back to the bottom.

Soon, the fish reappeared. This time, it pounced, and I was battling a two-foot-long burbot. The power these fish can generate with their oversized tail is incredible! After several drag-burning runs, I wrestled the codfish through the ice.

I caught two more big burbot, and each one was a thrill. Despite tough conditions, I had earned my redemption — and a tasty meal. Two 24-inchers fed my family with white, flaky fillets that were among the best freshwater fish I’ve eaten. After years of waiting, the victory was sweet.

Our second story takes us to McCall’s Payette Lake — a notoriously difficult fishery whose apex resident, the Mackinaw trout, is a notoriously finicky quarry.

I made my first attempt at catching a Payette Mackinaw last February. Three were caught that day, but I only landed pesky pikeminnow. Adding to the disappointment was the near-miss of fighting a lake trout to the surface, only to lose it in the slush on its way through the hole.

This time, companions Caleb and Jon joined me on a hike through waist-deep snow onto frozen Payette. Just like last year, I caught the first fish. But, just like last year, it was a pikeminnow.

Caleb raised our hopes when he hooked up using a large, noisy lure. This one HAD to be a laker! Sure enough, I saw the white, gaping jaws of a sturdy, almost two-foot-long Mackinaw appear in the hole. I scooped it out and we celebrated Caleb’s first-ever lake trout.

Jon was up next. He caught and released an 18-inch Mackinaw, then hooked a giant. He fought the monster for several minutes, but it swam under some bottom structure and we lost the fish.

Such is life when you pursue one of North America’s largest predators.

As morning turned to afternoon, I wondered if my turn would come. I was getting the most action, but not the elusive Mackinaw.

On one drop, I noticed something strange on my flasher: a fish was following my lure downwards in the water column. Usually, fish chase bait upwards. When the fish caught up to the lure, I felt its weight and set the hook. But halfway to the surface, the line went slack. I quickly opened the bail and watched my jig tumble back down. Again, a fish gave chase. When it caught up, I set the hook — extra hard this time — and smiled as the rod doubled over.

“I think this is the one, boys!” I announced.

After a spirited, nerve-wracking fight, I landed my first Payette Mackinaw. At 20 inches, it wasn’t a monster, but as it swam back down to the depths, I raised an arm in celebration.

It’s always fun to catch an elusive fish. But the experience of overcoming past failures made these catches extra satisfying. Tight lines!

Come learn All About That Bass!

My next fishing class, All About That Bass, is set for Tuesday, April 13, at the Hilton Garden Inn Boise Spectrum. If you want to get in on Idaho’s awesome bass fishing this season, this is the class for you! We’ll cover everything you need to catch more and bigger largemouth and smallmouth bass all year long. Get more details and sign up at www.tightlines208.com.

Jordan Rodriguez has been fishing Idaho waters since he was a teen. Share your fish stories, adventures, tips and tricks with him at tightlinesboise@gmail.com or visit www.tightlines208.com.