---

It's not often that I have an opportunity to introduce a new friend to the sport of ice fishing. Last Saturday, when I discovered that my new fishing partner that day was a recent arrival from New York City (and Romania before that), I knew I had, in essence, hit the jackpot. Yes, I had the distinct pleasure to meet and fish with Adrian, a seemingly sophisticated fellow whose simple Minnesota brain had yet to develop properly. I knew I couldn't completely undo his elegant and cultured New York ways in the course of an afternoon, but I thought he deserved - at the very least - a taste of spare, one syllable conversation and the high-risk-low-reward practice of braving the bitter cold in exchange for a few pounds of fish fillets.

To folks from other parts of the country or world, our favorite winter pastime must seem the most foreign and crazy folly imaginable. On some level, they can understand the idea of drilling a hole through the ice and silently watching a little bobber do very little for extended periods of time. Their imagination doesn't need to stretch too far to get their arms around that concept. What they do have trouble with, initially, is the idea of driving a full-sized vehicle out onto the ice. For as often as they've heard about this odd winter custom, none of them are really mentally prepared for their first experience.

As we left Sportland Bait, in Nisswa, armed with a day's worth of minnows and waxies, Adrian's questions regarding vehicles and ice became a little more pointed as we drove to the lake. He remarked, "Huh, this SUV of yours is pretty big. So, ah, what do you do, park along the shore and drag your stuff out to where we'll fish?"

I had called the shop ahead of time and was fully aware of the ice conditions on this particular lake. I also knew exactly what we were going to do once we got there, but I thought I'd give him the impression that I wasn't sure yet. "Well, I dunno," I replied, trying my best not to crack a smile. "Let's run over there, take a look at the lake and we'll see how it looks." A very cryptic and worrisome response, if I must say so myself. Almost as if I'd need his input when we got there to make a well-informed decision.

We arrived at the public access, where I could clearly see a plowed road leading from the shore to some distant permanent shacks out in the middle of the lake where we would set up my portable. I could also see that the transition from the shoreline to the ice at the bottom of the access was seamless and very smooth. Not a bump in sight. Sort of like the bottom of a roller coaster. Without missing a beat, I increased speed, pressed my head against the headrest and yelled as we shot out onto the lake, "Well, Adrian, we'll find out soon enough if they've been making any ice up here!" The truck's interior door handle nearly snapped off in Adrian's hand as the color left his face and he howled, "Dear God in heaven! Is this safe?!"

Well, of course it was safe, but I wouldn't have had that glorious moment to relish and savor if I would've done it any other way. It seems almost sadistic to admit this, but to us native Midwesterners, an occasion like that simply cannot be missed, and the look of pure and abject horror frozen on the faces of the uninitiated really does swell our chests with Minnesota pride.

Adrian and I did pretty well that afternoon, catching many bluegills and some crappies, too. It's always neat to see a guy catch a bunch of fish his first time out on the ice. As you can imagine, he's been to a lot of places and has seen a lot of interesting things during the course of his travels. I, on the other hand, think it's pretty exotic to travel to, say, Baudette or Fargo. So he talked about Romania and Europe and New York City and I talked about fishing around the upper Midwest, my family and Taylors Falls. He's a neat guy and we got along very well. He'd like to explore some more of our Minnesota culture and outdoor pursuits, and I think I'm just the fellow to show him around. Next, he'd like to get out into the woods and experience a deer hunt. As luck and circumstances would have it, I think I can arrange that for him.

Dan Brown's weekly outdoor column is brought to you by Frankie's Bait and Marine, in Chisago City, and St. Croix Outdoors, in St. Croix Falls, Wis.

---