That’s not to say that if you stay in an area after the initial bite wears thin, other fish won’t move through during the day. Some of the biggest fish caught in many Shield lakes are taken by anglers who sit on high-percentage spots like the wall spots in our first pattern. The biggest fish—the real monsters— apparently don’t feed aggressively all that often and seem to spend a disproportionate amount of time in areas relative to the main lake. This, too, however, is a perception on our part and by no means a definite rule.

Over the years, we’ve experimented with every bait in existence, from jigging spoons, to bladebaits, to airplane jigs. We once tipped everything with salted minnows. The last five years, we’ve settled on two lures that usually outfish everything else. We no longer tip our baits, for used correctly, these lures usually outfish even livebait.

One lure the works well is the Northland Air Plane Jig. We fish jigs without any bucktail dressing, just slip a three-inch Gitzit-style body on the jig and use a drop of super glue at the head to hold it in place. Rig a few jigs before you go out in the cold. Most of our fishing is with 3/8-ounce jigs in conjunction with 8- or 10-pound-test line.

The hottest lure we’ve found is a 3/8-ounce Blue Fox Foxee jighead slipped inside a Gitzit-style body like the Garland or a Berkley Power Tube. Pop the line-tie through the tube body and tie your line to the lure. After several fish, you may have to replace the tube body. A plain white or off-white tube works well. Modest Mac’s favorite is a clear tube with silver glitter.

We use sonar units to indicate depth, where trout are in relation to our lures, and how they’re responding. The most aggressive fish often suddenly appear on sonar, moving steadily toward a lure. Whoa boy, you know what’s going to happen next. Heavy thump. Big bend in rod. Other times the game is more tentative. Fish appear as you hop the bait, then stop to inspect the situation. Jiggle-jiggle. Jiggle-jiggle. Shake the lure. Maybe give it another short hop. Maybe another major pop. It’s all part of the guessing game.

And when the day is done, the last coffee drained from every thermos, we snowmobile toward home, the sun setting over our shoulders. The game continues, though, for we gather at a restaurant to toast the day and recount every man’s tales of triumph and woe.

At least once a trip, too, we save enough small fish for a fish fry. Trout, walleyes, and pike are as good as they can be fresh out of icy water and into a deep-fry pan. The Mighty Mystro of the Mackinaw, that man called Modest Mac, is right at home in this crowd, where fish weights are freely estimated and fish numbers are recounted long into the night. Only when it comes to helpings of fish and potatoes, does it seem he forgets to count.