The 2014 Scofield Ice Fishing Derby

As a reward for a fantastic report card I signed me and my boy up for the Scofield Ice Fishing Derby. He was excited to compete in his first tournament and I was excited to get out on the ice before January. We had fished Scofield many times before but had always caught our share of Cutthroat Trout. Since the Tournament was a Rainbow Trout only tournament I began my parental duty of trying to figure out how to catch a rainbow trout. I decided it would be best to take the kid up the day before for a practice run. We caught loads of Cutts and Chub but no Bows. Our pre-fish trip taught us two important lessons on how to catch rainbows: Where not to fish and how not to fish. The only thing that gave us hope at this point was the fact that no one else on the lake seemed to know how to catch one either.

The morning of the tournament started early and led us out onto the dark frozen lake. The morning was bone chilling, and the ice was a crusty slush sandwich that somehow found its way into our "waterproof" boots. Holes drilled, we began the work of sorting through piles of cutts and chubs looking for one solitary rainbow trout to turn in at the measuring table. After several hours of no bows and in an attempt to keep the experience positive for my young trooper, I offered a warm ride down the canyon to the burger joint of his choice. I could not believe my ears when he replied "No dad, I have a tournament to win. Besides we are catching tons of fish." He even asked me if we were aloud to come back out after the tournament was over. Was I ever proud of my boy!

With an hour to go the kid ran after another sprung Jaw Jacker. This time, as the fish lay on the ice we both paused for a moment. He asked "Is it? I replied "Ya". Then we danced around like stupid people and gave each other high fives and hugs like we had won the lotto.

 I had never been that excited about a 12 inch fish. I didn't care that we had little to no chance of winning with such a small entry. I was just relieved that he was going to be able to turn something in. At the measuring table they gave him a generous length of 12 & 1/8 inches. We looked at each other in astonishment when they put his name on the leader board in 5th place. A short time later he was replaced by someone else who had him by an 8th of an inch, and then a 4th, and then a 1/2.

Even though he did not place, there were no looks of disappointment in his expressions. Out of 400+ of the roughest looking camo-covered die-hards he was number 8. His desire to keep fishing was replaced with one to hurry home to tell his Mom and siblings about the greatest day ever. As we drove home I was overcome with the feeling that this was the greatest day ever. Not because we had won anything. Or even caught a decent sized fish. It was because of the determination and attitude presented by my son.