Who is Choppy Watters?

 
 

Many of you may be familiar with Choppy Watters. For those of you reading the antics of Choppy for the first time… sit back and enjoy!
Choppy first appeared in The Country Focus, a newspaper published by the Tribune in the early and mid-1990’s. Choppy also wrote many columns for the Gouverneur Tribune-Press.
Many of us who grew up in Northern New York know people who are a lot like Choppy. Hunting and fishing are important part of his life… in fact he considers himself an expert on everything from guiding to trapping and, of course, state regulations.
Choppy and his brother Murky spent their summers on Black Lake while they were growing up. So many of the adventures you will read will involve Black Lake and their beloved Camp Ha Cha.
Choppy will also introduce you to many of his outdoor buddies from adulthood. Goony LaDuke, Stork Fishfinder and Snag Hollowhead… just to name a few… will be the featured characters in many of these outdoorsy tales.
Many asked if Choppy was real… or if the stories were just made up.
I can assure you that the adventures of Choppy Watters are true… or based on truths. And that the characters you’ll meet along the way are still, in most cases, alive and kicking.
They know who they are… few will admit it… but they know who they are!
Our readers will soon be able to add their comments to Choppy’s stories… or even relate their own outdoor experiences.
As for Choppy returning to offer up some new adventures… we’re still trying to coax him out of retirement.
He called it negotiatin’.
We call it blackmail!

-Dick Sterling

 

Ice fishing when it’s 30 below

By Choppy Watters
I've never really been sold on ice fishing. I've tried it several times. I've managed to catch some pretty good sized fish. But as far as enjoying myself, I must admit that standing in the cold on a huge slab of ice isn't my idea of fun.
My best memories of ice fishing are of successful card games while a group of fishing buddies sit on the porch at camp. Our tip-ups, only a few feet away on the ice, and a roaring fire going in the old pot­bellied stove in the kitchen. Even the guys who say they enjoy ice fishing balk at running down to the ice to check a flag. The most common expression heard is, "I’ll go right after we finish this hand.”
Last weekend I was invited to go ice fishing at my camp. It's funny how I often get invited to fish at my own camp!
We left early on a Saturday morning and decided to take part in one of the many Black Lake ice fishing derbies, where fishermen have the opportunity to win cash and prizes for catching the biggest fish.
It was a little on the chilly side. Well, we tried to convince ourselves that it was chilly. Actually it was 31 below zero when we got to the camp. We shoveled our way into camp, unburied about a cord of wood from the accumulated snow and ice that found its way onto the wood pile. Next we started a fire and prepared to go fishing.
We headed out onto the ice at about 8:30 a.m. and started walking towards Lee Bay. We had a little trouble getting our vehicles through the snow to drive out on the ice, in fact the tow truck that was to pull my brother Murky's truck from an eight foot snow drift wasn't due until later that afternoon. By the time we headed out to fish it had warmed up considerably, it was now -26 degrees!
In addition to Murky I was joined by Snag Hollowhead, Stork Fishfinder and Goony LaDuke. We looked like a group of Eskimos as we trudged across the ice. We all wore a pack basket that was filled with needed supplies, wore layer upon layer of clothing and carried other needed items, such as coffee, coolers, minnows and food.
We were all trying to convince ourselves, and each other, that it really wasn't that cold out We were also quick to realize just how far Lee Bay is from our camp. We often turned to look back towards camp and notice a trickle of smoke rise into the air from that warm wood fire that was keeping the camp warm, almost anticipating our return.
Snag was the first one to complain, “it's cold. We must be nuts to be out here today. 1 don't even see any other fishermen out here.”
"Stop complaining," said Stork. “If we’re the only ones, that enter our chances of winning should be pretty good.”
We heard a roar from behind us end turned to realize that we weren't the only ones on the ice after all. A 1962 Chevy truck slid past us and came to a stop. There were two guys in the front of the truck. They hollered . back and asked if we were heading to Lee Bay.
“Well come on up end jump in… I'd come back for you but I don't have any reverse.” It was the fastest we’d moved all day. We hopped into the back of the old truck and our new friends sped off towards the registration point of the contest.
Right after we got into the old truck Goony developed a bit of a problem. As he tried to get comfortable his left leg slipped through what looked like a pile of snow and fell through the truck bed, just as that happened the guy in the passenger seat yelled back through what at one time had been the rear window, and warned us of holes in the beck of the truck
Goony was trying to hold his foot up away from the snow and ice that was speeding by at 35 miles per hour under his foot. Nobody dared to stand up and try to pull Goony from his leg trap, I think we were all afraid that we’d end up in a similar state… or worse!
After a few minutes the truck slid past the registration area. We circled back around, remember we had no reverse. It also appeared that the truck had no brakes because we went past again and coasted to a stop.
Goony managed to pull himself out of the trap that had held his leg for several minutes and stepped carefully from the back of the truck. We thanked the guys for the ride and they headed off in a forward direction to another spot on the lake.
We were happy that the sun had come out and the temperature must have been getting pretty close to 20 below. It was really starting to warm up. We all registered and paid our entry fees and then, along with about 30 other hearty souls we found a good spot and started to drill our holes.
We were quick to discover that the ice was close to one mile thick. It took a good hour to cut all of our needed holes in the ice. Now we were ready to catch a winning fish. Actually, I was ready to go back to camp and play cards but, being a trooper and a true fisherman, I decided to stick it out and catch some fish.
When It's 20 below zero and you're ice fishing you learn that those holes start to freeze over. When it was my turn to open the holes again I walked towards the newest hole and was just about to clear the ¼-inch of ice with my boot when I slipped and plunged my leg into the water. Amazingly it felt rather warm, until I pulled my foot back into the cold air and discovered the true meaning of the world cold.
“Do any of you guys have an extra pair of socks. I think my foot is going to freeze right off,” I yelled.
Goony pulled a pair of heavy socks from his pack and I managed . to put some plastic bags inside my wet boot. I put on the dry socks and I. put my foot back into my boot. It was a little better, but it sure wasn't very comfortable. I looked off in the direction of camp, hoping to see that trickle of warm smoke rising into the air.
We fished for another hour or two and the wind started to come up. We watched as many fools, much like ourselves, huddled together around ice shacks, vehicles and right on the open ice. When noon rolled around a total of three fish had been entered in the contest. One little pike and two perch. If more fish had been caught I'm sure everyone would have returned home. But the thought of winning a contest with an average sized fish was enough incentive for us to stay.
My foot was getting colder and colder and I was beginning to wonder whether I would be able to walk the 40 miles back to camp. The
distance was closer to two miles, but when it's cold and you’ve got a cold foot it seems more like 40.
All of a sudden my foot warmed up, my feelings about ice fishing changed and I knew I was going to be a winner. The flag on one of my tip-ups sprang to attention end I ran to it. Sometimes you can just tell when you've got a big fish on a tip-up. I knew that this was one of those times.
Before I knew it there were over 30 fisherman running towards me. You would have thought that I had just scored the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl.
I slowly pulled the big fish towards the surface I was already thinking of ways to spend the prize money. As I lifted the fish into the hole 1 could have cried. Everyone was waiting for me to pull a 15-pound Northern from the ice but the fish list had decided to sample my minnow was a bass, And I mean a big bass.
I landed the six-pound fish and admired it for a moment and then realized that the big bass, one of the biggest I had ever caught, would have to go back into the lake. After all bass fishing season doesn't start for several months.
I was beginning b feel very cold again. I was going to suggest that we head back to camp when another flag sprang on one of my tip-ups.
“Boy, is this guy lucky or what?” People were actually jealous because I caught a fish that I had to throw back. The fish I pulled to the ice surface this time was a perch. An averaged sized perch. I entered the fish and headed back to camp, by myself. My companions decided that they'd wait until later that afternoon.
I noticed that the tow truck had managed to free Murky's truck from the snow so I shortened my walk back to camp by quite a bit by driving his truck back to the camp road turnoff.
When the boys came back to camp later that afternoon they said that they went the entire day without catching a single fish. In fact, they Seemed upset that I had caught a big bass, which I had to throw back, and a 10-ounce perch.
Murky tossed me a little package and said that my perch had won fifth place. "Here’s your prize.”
I looked into the bag and laughed .
"Just what I need. Three pairs of insulated socks!”

 

 

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