Only about 20 more yards to go. My quads burned. I was sweating profusely underneath my ice fishing suit. The snow was knee-deep and it felt like we had a mile left. The sled weighed 70 pounds but was worth the haul once we could get the heater running. 

“I think it’s going to happen today.” My dad whispered to me optimistically. Being a veteran fisherman himself, it filled my stomach with butterflies and hope that we were going to have some luck tonight.  “Drill one here,” He ordered with a burst of excitement in his voice. He knew this lake in and out. He grew up here. He knew the spots. Great. I hope it's not 10 inches or my arms are going to burn deeply too. I began to chug with the auger and before long I was through. My dad dropped the weight down to measure the depth and baited the treble hook with a large shiner. He put the flag down and set the tip-up. The trap was ready. The little shiner fluttered underneath in the deep dark murky water; only to wait for a leviathan to sneak up on it. 

The more tip-ups we set up, the higher my hopes flew. Clinging to my father’s optimism, I felt secure about his near promise of a fish that was worthy to keep. The lake was packed today. There were shacks and families all over the ice. People taking their dogs for a walk, shoveling off ice rinks. Kids my age playing hockey. At least there was something to enjoy in January. 

I eventually decided that it was time for me to try and catch some bluegills to take home. The tip-ups will be a while yet, I thought to myself. Maybe the panfish are hot today. Finding a nice notch in the ice to drill a hole. I began twisting and churning the auger. “FLAG!” I whipped my head around to see my dad pointing at the tip-up. 

Running as hard as I could in the 14 inches of snow on the lake I felt like a child again, chasing my dog through the snow as my dad was snow blowing the driveway during a snowstorm in the evening. Except for this time, I was chasing a different dog, with a possibly not so friendly personality; even deadly to some. The metal piece on top was spinning slowly but surely. I could see him swimming slowly back into the weeds in my head. I couldn’t wait. 

“Wait for it to stop spinning then you do your thing.” My dad whispered in excitement. It stopped. I jumped at the opportunity. Pulling the tip up out of the hole I pulled some line out. I could feel him on the other end of the line. Thunk! As I ripped a foot of line out fast as I could. 

He was heavy, very heavy, at least for a fish. “Dad this thing is huge!” I squealed in nervous excitement. Pulling my hands closer to the hole every headshake he managed to rip. 

“If he wants it, let him have it! Just keep tension on the line.” Heeding my father’s words, I let him have it a little bit. He was getting closer to the hole. Here he came. 

Pulling hard one last time, I could see the flash of silver under the hole. I couldn’t let my dad down. He was watching more intently than I was. It seemed as though he never stopped coming out of that hole. His gills expanded like the leviathan he was as I pulled him out of the hole. The almost checkered pattern of dark gray and silver illuminated the snow around him. My dad erupted into a burst of joyful laughter and grabbed me, embracing me with pure joy. Perhaps he was remembering his own childhood when he came out here with his dad. Maybe he was trying to reconnect with him through me in his own way. “Great job buddy.” I did it. I pulled the beast in.