Winter Camping With The Boys

Dec. 21, 2014

People have a hard time sleeping in the woods to begin with but when I got the call from my buddy Ryan McCarthy to go camp for the weekend up near Tomahawk, WI, it was an offer that was hard to resist.

 It was a familiar drive that I have taken many times before, and as soon as I got to the snowy covered boat launch drive, I got stuck. We quickly got her unstuck and down to the camp spot...silence. The snow was softly falling as I got my ENO hammock out and strapped up. The boys were already set up for the evening fishing and drinking. 

Ryan Wilhelme setting the tip up.

As the night progressed, the beers became our bait on a hook. Good old PBR's and High Lifes were circling throughout the night. 

Living the dream.

Wilhelme stoking the stoke.

15° calls for a fire to warm the soul.

The fire was hard to keep going, we all drunkenly brainstormed the ways to get her goin' but could only keep it for about two hours. Not even the Eagle Scouts could keep it up. I realized looking around at this group of guys that truly the simplest things in life reset your brain and soul. The silence of the brisk winter air, crunch of the fresh snow, tingle of an almost frozen beer and the smell of the smoldering wood send your senses reeling. In this silence we realize that life is about the small things.....and we were freezing, out comes the shanty.

Fisheye

On Right: Tom lighting the lantern in the Shanty Shack

Base camp midnight thaw out

The next morning brought a whole new perspective on our location. I had arrived the previous night not really knowing where we were exactly. First things first..."waterrrrrrrrrr" in a raspy hungover voice, and then food. Tom was in the Shanty Shack prepping up some hash browns and checking the morning fish conditions. 

Island base camp 8:00

Between the Trees. Looking down the island.

Bearded Tom on the grill.

Morning Mist

That afternoon was filled with exploring the lake on 9" thick ice, a little frolfing and some shredding. Wilhelme hiked his way too small, 147cm board up this sweet little wooded hill on the island and ripped down it with one beer in his hand and chew in his lip. 

Wilhelme shredding the gnar and smacking the lip.

This lake was magical. McCarthy pointed out to me the green pine line that surrounded the lake edge and behind that was the brown dead oaks and spruce dense woods. This place was untouched in the winter. We had it all to ourselves. As we adventured out, we discovered an open inlet that connected the lake we were on (Seven Island Lake) to another. We walked through the snow covered pines getting snow down our backs as we bumped into branches covered in snow. It was something out of a fairy tale. We finally made it to the other lake to find two other fisherman with the whole lake to themselves. Bastards. They were only catching small perch in 4' of water though. We headed back to check on our tips. Success. Finally.

McCarthy lost in a gaze.

Inlet to the neighboring lake.

Finally some Walters (walleyes).

We couldn't have asked for more beautiful weather and better company these past two days. 

Needless to say, we will be back Seven Island Lake, we will be back.

Seven Island Lake, WI.