It's up north, to a grand extreme

SNOWBANK LAKE - The coffee was hot early Wednesday morning at Smitty's, the lone commercial enterprise on this huge lake about 25 miles northeast of Ely.

Operated by brothers Ron and Den (short for Dennis) Schmidt, and Ron's wife, Julie, Smitty's appears to a visitor every bit the idyllic North Woods getaway.

A crackling fire in a wood-burning stove keeps the outside cold at bay. The talk is cheerful. And not far away, lake trout and walleyes lurk in Snowbank's frozen depths, beckoning anglers willing to withstand this winter's frigid temperatures.

"We bought this place 17 years ago during a sort of midlife crisis -- that might be the best way to explain it," said Ron Schmidt.

In the early 1990s, when moving "up north" was still just an idea, Ron was a teacher and principal in tiny Hamburg, Minn. His brother, a salesman, was pushing Archway cookies in Sun Prairie, Wis.

"We bought this lodge because it was in the 'wilderness,' " Ron said. "We're at the end of the road. It's one of the most beautiful places there is."

A friend of mine, Keith Hanzel, a retired lawyer, lives year-round on Snowbank Lake, and he and I agreed to meet at Smitty's Wednesday morning before heading onto the ice in search of lake trout.

While I drove to the resort from Ely, Keith whizzed across Snowbank from his home on his snowmobile.

A one-time chief prosecutor for the city of St. Paul, later a public defender and periodically during his career a professional sports agent, Keith followed his own dream about 10 years ago, trading a suit and tie for what today passes as a different kind of uniform: a pair of Carhartt bibs and a camouflage jacket.

Lonely as existence on Snowbank might seem -- Keith's mailbox is 5 miles from his home -- it's actually not. Now and then, the UPS guy stops by with a package. And on many mornings, "Basswood Bob" (a summer and winter guide on Basswood and other lakes; www.basswood-bob.com) stops by, his dog sled on top of his pickup box, perhaps a half-dozen running huskies encased below.

"I fish every day," Keith said. "Or nearly every day."

But this winter has been different -- and not just on Snowbank Lake, but across the north country. Snow is piled high in woods and on lakes alike. Which in many years can be a blessing. But this winter, snow came before lake ice thickened. The result: Slush sometimes a foot or more deep, formed between the ice and snow, drastically reducing lake travel.

On some northern Minnesota lakes, snowmobiles and pickups have been stuck in slush for hours and even days. On Snowbank, snow and slush have limited travel to snowmobiles only.

"It's the first time in 17 years we haven't been able to plow an ice road onto the lake," Ron said. "We haven't been able to get our rental houses out, either."

Consequently, the usual hubbub that echoes through Smitty's lodge in winter has gone missing the past two months. Winter anglers who usually come to Smitty's from as far away as Indiana and Kansas this year have stayed home, warned that no warm fishing houses await them.

Wednesday morning, thermometers in Ely still read well below zero when Keith and I climbed onto his Polaris and motored onto Snowbank in search of lake trout.

At 152 feet deep, the lake remains sufficiently cold year-round to support a trout population. About 98 percent of the lake's shoreline is owned by the federal government, half of it in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness.

"That's one reason the lake is so beautiful," Ron said. "It's not like Minnetonka down in the Twin Cities, where all you see is homes. Here, you look out and it's wilderness."

Keith frequently employs a small portable fishing shelter while on Snowbank. But on this morning, we sat open-air on the ice, he on a folding chair, I on an overturned bucket.

Wonderful fish, but fickle eaters, lake trout are trophies with fins. You can jig for them, using a variety of baits, tipping them (or not) with a frozen cisco. A live minnow on a plain hook, rigged to a tip-up, also works.

Smitty's typically puts enough winter anglers on Snowbank over the course of a week to give Ron and Den an idea of when trout are active, and where.

This winter, fishing on the lake -- except that done by diehards such as Keith -- has been limited. So reports are few.

Dropping a swimming bait into about 40 feet of water, I could see not another person, save for Keith, in a mile or more in any direction.

For a couple of hours we swapped tales about duck hunting last fall. And fishing last summer.

But we fooled no lake trout.

When we returned to Smitty's later in the morning, Ron was hauling wood into the lodge. A fresh pot of coffee had been brewed, and a plate of Julie's cookies was laid on a table.

Ron, 62; Den, 68; and Julie are unsure how many more winters they'll spend on Snowbank. They have Smitty's up for sale, and Ron said if a buyer comes forward, he and Julie will move into Ely, where he can "gather every morning with other old guys for a cup of coffee."

"I've lived in rural areas since I was 21 years old," Ron said. "Maybe it's time I moved to town."

Dennis Anderson • danderson@startribune.com