Reflections from shore

As I drive up London Road I have one goal in mind: to see for myself the villages of fishermen that have ventured gingerly out onto Lake Superior’s rare ice.

My social media feed has been taken over by videos of high fives and big fish — all caught within a few miles of my truck. Several black, blue, and red shacks appear just off 21st Avenue as I drive past Marine General in East Duluth. A couple dozen more groups can be seen off the mouth of the Lester, just a couple of miles farther. The masses on this day are just off Brighton Beach, their vehicles cramming the roadside and unplowed parking lots.

I know exactly what they are after: big lake trout, good numbers of coho salmon, and even the occasional school of herring or smelt. I’ll admit, walking along the shoreline scanning the horizon, I’m tempted to join them.

It’s not every year the “big pond” offers anglers the unique opportunity to chase its bounty through the ice. However, you can count me out.

My life was changed forever six years ago by a man I never met. His name was Jim Hudson, and we had a lot in common: same age, a similar passion for guiding, and the desire to help others experience the outdoors. We never met face-to-face, but we communicated electronically over social media. Mostly, it was Jim passing on his knowledge to me, free of charge. Jim made the commitment to guiding full-time, almost exclusively in the Ashland and Bayfield area, leaving behind steady career as a police officer. He was a rising star in the fishing community, an accomplished fishermen. His guiding business was a resounding success.

Then on Jan. 26, 2013, Jim’s snowmobile broke through the ice of Lake Superior. I remember watching Jim’s Facebook page for hours, waiting impatiently for news that he would somehow survive. Prayers and hopeful messages poured in as minutes turned into hours. Jim didn’t make it. My heart broke when I heard the news. And I still get choked up thinking about his wife, friends, and family he left behind.

Jim’s Facebook page is now a memorialized account. Friends and family leave messages and share memories and try to cope with his loss. I find myself scrolling back through his feed. I have to skip over the day of the accident — it proves too difficult to read the tributes and condolences.

Two things catch my eye: one is fish pictures from Jim’s guide service dated Jan. 25, 2013. Happy times, good memories. It reminds me how quickly things can change. The second is a post from Jan. 22, 2013. Someone posted inquiring about the ice conditions around Bayfield. Jim replied with three simple words: Not safe yet.

I can’t help but think of those haunting words this morning.

I have no intention of talking anyone out of venturing out onto Lake Superior. Of the groups I observe, I would say 80 percent are taking precautions. They use spud bars and wear life jackets. Some even tow canoes or small boats behind them. It’s the other 20 percent I worry about. Venturing out, assuming because others have made the trip, it must be safe. And yes … I was young and invincible once.

We all make our own decisions. For me, I’m positive there’s not a single fish circling below Lake Superior’s ice I’m willing to risk my life over.

Every time I venture out onto the ice, somewhere in the back of my mind I think of Jim. Today, standing on shore, his memory makes it easy to stay off it.

Bret Baker is a lifetime resident of Cloquet. He is a proud husband, father, educator and outdoorsman. Bret began guiding fishing trips when he was 16 years old. Today, in his 40s, his passion is to introduce people to the tremendous outdoor adventures available in our region.