Stealth Tactics For Today’s Modern and Mobile Angler

It’s war, out there. We conduct reconnaissance, furrowing out fish and then struggling to stay below the radar of highly mobile “units.” We battle the elements, too, always seeming to be over- or underdressed for the actual conditions, never the ones the weatherman said they’d be the night before.

There’s the hand-to-hand combat, too. Allies go Benedict Arnold in a heartbeat, pilfering your hard-earned spot by simply motoring by with a good-old-boy nod then shamelessly punching the waypoint on a concealed GPS. It’s freshwater espionage.

The first step in winning this war is recognizing the facts. You’ve got “enemies,” aquatic and terrestrial. The only people in your camp are the ones you brought, so arm everyone with knowledge and specially selected gear.

Guide and Ice Team member Brian “Bro” Brosdahl begins with a hydrographical map. “To do it right, to do it efficiently, you’ve got to break down the lake, break down the structure. There needs to be some itemizing and prioritizing.” It’s a battlefield.

Bro treats every mapping session like the eve before Custer’s Last Stand. Scrap that: It’s like the invasion of Normandy. “I number spots one, two, three, four and so on, making number one the highest priority and number four something foreign, unknown, but interesting.

“Regardless of the species, I choose areas that encompass key pieces of structure, along with attached or nearby transitional areas. Basically, I want to blanket a field of diversity.” Rare are the times when an overabundance of features is disadvantageous.

Once on the ice, Bro doesn’t run and gun, either. That’s too random. Can’t prevail in a battle with a helter-skelter attack. “Hole patterns need to be strategic,” he says. “You need to consider the speed of depth-change and distance between structures. The wider and flatter, the greater the distance between holes. I might drill every five feet on a snappy break, but only once every 30 paces on a fat saddle between humps.”

Bro first pierces a pilot hole and takes a reading. Depth is established. He matches that depth to the map and surveys the landscape to gain a real-time reference. Knowledge, or perhaps an inkling, guides placement of the second hole, and the third. Eventually, the topo map morphs into reality and Bro’s mind becomes a cyber-map that forecasts and broadcasts cross-sections of the lake with probable schools of fish.

Back on the ice, he fears not vigorous drilling and searching. “With today’s gear, there’s no structure too large.” That means rolling around on an Arctic Cat Bearcat and toting a featherweight StrikeMaster Lazer auger. His backup, or partner, follows along with a Vexilar flasher, a pre-rigged rod, and a pocketful of predetermined baits. In shallower water, or if it’s weeds and bottom composition that need studying, Bro’s informant might survey with an Aqua-Vu underwater camera, instead.

It’s this style of platoon work that makes short shrift of a lake. Make a plan. Establish roles. Follow the agenda. In a two-person team, Bro calls angler number one—normally himself—the “workhouse.” He’s the driller. His sidekick becomes the “radar specialist” armed with electronics. Additional members, those who are the least skilled or are special guests, focus on catching what’s been discovered.