The author with a Tawas Bay walleye that was a sucker for a minnow suspended below a tip-up. Photo courtesy of Steven A. Griffin

I love alliteration, words beginning with the same letter, a coincidence that makes their connection more playful, more meaningful and memorable. Example? Winter and walleyes. If you live in Michigan, there are few pairs of words that fit together better.

Walleyes are distributed widely enough that they're available to just about any ice-angler. They bite so readily that any angler with a little finesse and some patience can catch one. They're tricky enough to be a prize to be proud of. And on the table? Well, let's just say you don't hear of northern pike, bluegill or largemouth bass fish fries at the old fraternal club, do you?

No matter where you live in Lower Michigan, you're almost certainly within a couple hours' drive of some first-rate walleye ice-fishing. Grab a jigging rod or a couple of tip-ups, locate your auger and snowmobile suit, and wander our state for some winter walleyes.

SAGINAW BAY
Any discussion of Michigan walleye fishing has to start with Saginaw Bay. This large lobe of Lake Huron is packed full of walleyes, and come winter, it's covered with walleye anglers, too. Among them is sure to be Tony Gronski of Freeland.

The retired maintenance foreman from General Motors fishes just about every day there's ice. "Except that when the wind blows hard, I don't go," he says. "It's uncomfortable, and the ice has a chance to move."

Saginaw Bay anglers get used to pressure cracks, openings in the ice or ridges of ice pushed skyward. Pressure cracks are travel and safety considerations, of course, but they can also be the key to a successful fishing strategy.

"Normally, all the pressure cracks are on (underwater) breaklines where currents push the ice and make pressure cracks where 13 feet of water drops to 17 feet, or 18 feet drops to 22," said Gronski. "Most fishermen crowd around the cracks. Walleyes, like deer, like to hang around the edges, in my opinion. So, we follow the breaks and set up. When you find the fish, they'll usually be there for a few days or a week." He uses GPS to record locations so he can return to them another day.

Gronski relies heavily on his motorized underwater camera during daylight and a fish sounder in low light. He's pretty sure the light of the camera sometimes spooks fish when it's dark. But either tool helps him watch how fish move. "You know exactly what they do, if they're active or inactive." Otherwise, it's all feel. "Maybe they lip it, and when you hit, they're gone."

On Saginaw Bay, Gronski said, "If they're active, I jig from the bottom to six to eight inches above it. If they come in inactive, I pound the lure right on the sand, creating a kind of sandstorm. That either excites them, or they leave. If they're active at all, they'll dig that bait right out of the sand and take it. We've seen on the camera that when you get a lot of fish on the prowl, they'll stir the bottom up. That gets the minnows stirred up and confused, and then the fish will bite anything that moves."

Gronski fishes mainly the western shoreline on the bay, driving on at road ends. "We go three, five, seven miles out, using snowmobiles when the snow is deep, four-wheelers otherwise." He goes with the crowds, and watches others for safety, finding where they cross pressure cracks. Even in crowds, there are hot and cold spots.