ICE STORIES

To say I’m not much of an angler is an understatement. I get how fishing is kind of like hunting — particularly, say, permit or bonefishing, where you literally stalk the animal, as if with a bow or gun — and I can see how reading trout streams might be a little like reading a contour map, or a forested cirque, a north-facing slope, a gentle ridge with aspen — there, and there, and there, is where they might be, let’s go see — and yet: Most of the time, or so I understand, you don’t see the animal. There’s an extra layer of separation, of distancing. (Or, it could be argued, an extra layer of faith.) So I understand there’s opportunity for crossover, but I’m just wired hard for hunting, and not so much at all for fishing.

So you’d think ice fishing would be way, way, way down on my list of things to do. Like maybe