Opinion

The ice shack evolution

By V. Paul Reynolds
Ice fishing shacks, or “bob houses” if you live in Vermont, are like those liberated ladies cigarettes of yesteryear, Virginia Slims. Only the gray-haired set will recall the Madison Avenue advertising mantra that once venerated the feminist movement for female smokers, “ You’ve come a long way, baby!”
Indeed. Over a half century, the ice shack has certainly evolved. As a young ice fisherman I cut my teeth on a tiny home built 4-by-6 plywood “hut” with one small plexiglass window, a door and Teflon-coated skis. The front had a big, galvanized eye bolt screwed into the frame. As soon as the lake buttoned up with safe ice, you roped your ice home to the old 12-hp Skidoo and chugged it out onto the ice near the deep hole. It was important to batten the shack down with some guy ropes frozen into the ice on the windward side. A propane-fired “buddy heater”, or sometimes even a small wood stove, helped keep us toasty during a lunch of venison burgers or an afternoon cribbage game if the fishing was slow.
Photo courtesy of Scott Reynolds
NEW SHACK — Columnist V. Paul Reynolds cooks lunch in one of the newfangled Eskimo ice tents that are fast replacing the classic wooden ice fishing shacks.
To a nighttime snow sledder, the ice shack could be a dangerous and even deadly, navigational hazard unseen by the snowmobiler until it was too late. Thoughtful ice shack owners made sure that their shacks were festooned with some red reflectors that could be seen from a distance in snowmobile headlights.
For some of the more inventive and energetic ice anglers, there was pride in building the most elaborate impressive ice fishing shack that was the envy of the ice angling community. Years ago, a friend, Tommy Russell, invited me to his ice fishing Taj Mahal at Eagle Lake. It was a home away from home, lots of elbow room along with a propane range, a TV and bunks. We fished, ate well and stayed overnight out on the ice.
You still see a few of the classic old tar paper ice huts on Maine lakes, but increasingly the commercially purchased insulated ice tents by Eskimo and other manufacturers have become the rage. A zippered door, 360 degree plastic windows and quick put up make these ideal for the ice angler who has the money for the toys. Even on the coldest, windy days, a buddy heater will break the chill in an ice tent in no time. The Otter company, which manufactures a light but rugged tote sled, markets a  tote sled with a tent built in, complete with a big comfy seat.
A really well-built ice shack that belonged to my hunt club, The Skulkers of Seboeis, was not rendered obsolete by the modern, insulated ice tents. It underwent a “holey conversion.” With some minor construction and paint, it has become our new and improved one-holer, from ice hut to outhouse!
With ice fishing season winding down, owners of ice fishing domiciles, regardless of size or design, are reminded by the Maine Warden Service:
Ice fishing shack removal: A person who owns any shack or temporary structure used for ice fishing must remove the shack or structure (1) In any area of the State in which there is a closed ice fishing season, by ice out or 3 days after the close of the ice fishing season, whichever is earlier; and (2) In any area of the State in which there is no close of the ice fishing season, by ice out or March 31st, whichever is earlier.

The author is editor of the Northwoods Sporting Journal. He is also a Maine Guide and host of a weekly radio program “Maine Outdoors” heard Sundays at 7 p.m. on The Voice of Maine News-Talk Network. He has authored three books. Online purchase information is available at www.sportingjournal.com.

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