I used to be an avid icefisherman. I would sit there, in the freezing blast of snow or sleet, and sometimes rain, and happily fish-away. I was warm inside from the adventure.
One day years later, I was standing over a hole in the ice, jigging away. The wind was picking up, blowing the snow sideways. It was cold. Despite my -150 LaCrosse pacs, and my down-this and expedition weight-that, I was freezing. Fifty yards downwind of me was my buddy, Paul, who was sitting on his bait bucket, back to me. I took my skimmer and pulled up huge gobs of snow from around me, and flipped them into the air. The gale-force wind would whisk those clumps of snow into the back of Paul's head 150ft downwind of me. Despite this sort of amusement I decided that I wasnt having any fun, and that having fun was the reason I took up icefishing in the first place. Since that day, I have never wet the line through the ice again. This was in 2002 I believe.
I would have to think I was onto the best hotspot in New England to get me out detecting in the snow. It would have to be a huge, previously-undiscovered spill of coins from the Whydah for me to brave the elements. Knowing my luck, I'd probably only find a bottle cap from 1717, and get a bad case of frostbite doing it. Nope. I guess you can call me a fair weather detectorist.
