It's called a Bob House

My breath is transformed into wisps of smoke as the dance out of my lips. For a moment it clouds my vision as it passes in front of my head lamp. I look ahead with narrow vision, watching the snow covered lake in front of me. I stop for a moment and look up, I can see the light of my head lamp dim as it reaches up towards the stars. The last time I saw stars like this I was in Arizona, what may as well have been a millennial ago.

It's 4 AM, and with sled in hand I continue to make my way out onto the ice. I'm not alone though, I've got a few friends with me and we're making out way to the Bob House (Shanty if your from Vermont) that we had set up the night before. The holes have already been drilled, we now merely have the task of de-icing them and setting up tip-ups at each for a days worth of ice fishing. My body is fairly warm, yet my face can tell that it's bitter outside and that the cold will find it's way in eventually. Some may find it miserable to be waking up so early, to drill some holes in the ice, for the excitement of waiting and watching all day... Yet for me... it was perfect. In many ways I miss things like this. Being out side, braving the cold, and hell just spending time with your friends out there.

Before I left co-workers kept trying to see my logic... they would ask "So your going there to sit out on the Ice all day?" or perhaps "Really... your planning at starting at a hole in the ice? And your excited about this?" I can't help but laugh and smile. Yea, I was excited about this trip. While in the end we didn't end up catching anything worth bragging about... I couldn't have asked much more out of this weekend.