Brad Dokken: The 'Winter That Isn't' stalls outdoor recreation of all kinds

Dec. 29—I can't believe I'm saying this (or writing this, as it were) — especially after two consecutive very long winters — but here it is:

I miss winter.

Not the "minus 30 and blizzards" version of winter, of course, but I miss the recreational opportunities winter normally provides. I miss being able to hop on a snowmobile and hit the trails. I miss strapping on the new pair of lightweight snowshoes I bought last winter and going for a stroll through the Greenway (a much more enjoyable exercise option than the boring treadmill). I miss being able to drive out for a day of fishing on my favorite lake on ice that's 3 feet thick.

And if I want to go skating, I'd prefer to do it on an outdoor rink and not on the streets and sidewalks. As I write this, even venturing outside is treacherous without ice cleats, thanks to the nasty ice storm that hit the Red River Valley late Christmas Day.

That's the reality in this Winter That Isn't, and I don't like it.

Not one bit.

It would have been difficult to imagine after a nasty late October snowstorm pummeled the area that we'd be saddled with the kind of winter we're currently having. In late October, as you may recall, cold weather settled in and looked like it was here to stay, prompting even the most diehard fall anglers to put their boats into storage.

Prematurely, it turned out; I know this because I was one of them.

For sure, I thought, ice fishing would be in full swing before Thanksgiving. But then warmer weather returned. Any snow that fell generally was gone a few days later, and any chance for safe ice to form was usually thwarted by high winds and temperatures that barely dipped below freezing at night.

Anglers in much of the region have been ice fishing for a few weeks now, but the stories of on-ice rescues and close encounters have been more abundant than usual, thanks to the oddly unseasonable weather. Tragically, there also have been two fatalities. Ice conditions in many areas are iffy, at best, and caution remains the word of the day.

Meanwhile, snowmobiles sit on trailers where they will likely remain indefinitely, while snowshoes and cross-country skis collect dust.

Winters like this aren't good for much in my world, but they're not unprecedented. No doubt some wildlife — deer, for example — can definitely use a break after the pummeling they took the previous two winters, but that's the only positive I see.

In many ways, this winter reminds of the winter of 2011-12. Winter recreation got off to a late start that year, as well, and when it finally arrived, it was short-lived. I took a snowmobile trip across Lake of the Woods to the Northwest Angle on Presidents Day weekend of 2012, and by mid-March, the snow was gone, and Lake of the Woods was all but ice-free by mid-April.

The winter of 2006 was another odd one. That year, I'd just walked into the office one January morning when I got a phone call from Tom Stay, a Baudette, Minnesota, fishing guide at the time with whom I'd fished the Rainy River on numerous occasions.

"Get up here," he said, or words to that effect. The Rainy River at Birchdale, Minnesota, was open, and he'd been fishing walleyes in a small boat for the past couple of days.

The offer was too good to resist and I hit the road for a marathon there-and-back trip that marks the only time I've ever fished in a boat in January on the Minnesota-Ontario border.

Here's how I described the excursion in a story that appeared in the Jan. 15, 2006, edition of the Grand Forks Herald:

The Rainy River along the Minnesota-Ontario border was alive with signs of spring Tuesday afternoon. An occasional bald eagle soared overhead, on lookout for a quick meal along the shoreline or floating on the river's open water. A couple of boats drifted among the small icebergs that had formed after the mercury dipped to a brutal 1 below zero a couple of nights earlier.

Temperatures now hovered in the mid 30s, and the shining sun, a scarce presence in recent weeks, reflected brilliantly off the blanket of snow that covered the shoreline.

This is the way the Rainy River always looks in spring, as anglers rush to get their first glimpse of open water after months of fishing through holes in the ice. Anytime from mid-March through early April, it happens, the big river gives up its ice and opens its wide arms to spring.

But January? It's not supposed to happen in January.

This is just too weird.

How the winter of 2023-24 ultimately plays out remains to be seen, but there's no measurable snow — or subzero temperatures — in the forecast for the foreseeable future.

This is just too weird.