Spearfishing has an allure all its own, some borne of tradition

Jeff Goeschel is no different from hundreds of thousands of other Minnesota residents who each fall climb into tree stands, whiling away the hours in hopes of seeing a whitetail deer walk past. Most of those hunters never pull the trigger or loose an arrow, yet even without venison in the freezer or antlers on the wall to show for their efforts, they're still satisfied to have spent the day observing nature.

Ask the 48-year-old Goeschel, of Savage, to explain the draw of one of his favorite pastimes — targeting northern pike during the winter with a spear — and he, like many other spearers, offers up a deer-hunting analogy.

"I really treat it almost like I'm sitting in a [bowhunting] stand," Goeschel said. "Even if you're holding out for a trophy buck, it's still exciting when you have a doe walk past you — you still get the adrenaline rush. It's that same rush when fish swim into the hole."

Each fall, a half-million people target deer in Minnesota. The number of spear fishermen is just a fraction of that — about 25,000 or so — yet it's an activity with a considerable cultural history, said Don Pereira, fisheries section chief of the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources.

"I haven't done a lot of it myself, but it is a really interesting activity," he said. "You get a fantastic view of the underwater world when you're doing it. It's like you're looking into a huge aquarium. I equate it to basically sitting up in a deer stand on a quiet day. You may not see any deer walk by, but it's very therapeutic."

Goeschel's father, Roger, started him on spearing decades ago, kindling a fire.

"Twenty-some years ago — when I was in my 20s and spearing all the time — I was the only 20-year-old you'd ever see," Goeschel said. "But now there are a lot of young guys doing it again. I see a lot more people out doing it."

Whereas ice fishermen drill and fish from holes measuring 6 to 10 inches in diameter, a spear hole is decidedly larger. Goeschel likes to sit above a 30- by 48-inch hole, affording him an expansive view of the watery world. His house is heated and dark, the water below almost glowing. "If you're in a good spot, you're going to see all sorts of stuff — sunnies and bass and crappies," Goeschel said. "There's always something to see."

The goal, though, is to see northern pike and have an opportunity to throw a spear at them. Some spear fishermen suspend large sucker minnows below the ice in hopes of luring a pike, but the most popular method for attracting fish is using artificial decoys that glide and swim, replicating forage species pike are used to seeing. Goeschel attaches his decoys to a line that's connected to the inside of his darkhouse. He uses one hand to pull on the line, setting the decoy to life, and holds his spear with the other.

Then it's a matter of waiting for a northern to come near, and wondering how the fish will react.

"Sometimes they'll come flying in and just hammer the decoy. Then they'll spit it out. They stare at it, and sometimes they'll hit it again," Goeschel said. "That's the exciting part of it — seeing the fish. You never know what their reaction will be. Sometimes they stop in the hole and you can see them — see their gills moving and watch their dorsal fins work as they stabilize themselves."

Being ready with the spear is a must. Goeschel doesn't have much of a preference for one spear over another. He's thrown a lot of different varieties during his decades of spearing, yet still prefers to use the one his dad gave him when he was just getting started in the sport. The main consideration, Goeschel says, is that the barbed tines are sharp. "You don't want to hit fish and not get them into the hole," he said.

Even when they know there is a northern pike below, spear fishermen have to decide whether it's a fish they want to kill. While spear anglers can be quite efficient at harvesting large pike, many spearers today abide by a conservation ethic and generally target smaller fish, Pereira said. In his years of spearing, Goeschel has witnessed the change in mind-set.

"The consciousness of the sport has changed," Goeschel said. "When I was little, all you cared about was getting a big one. People have become more conscious of the resource. I can't remember the last time I speared a northern you would consider nice. A 10-pound northern doesn't taste good, so why would you spear it?"

Whereas many people pickle northern pike, Goeschel prefers to filet them and remove the Y-bones, leaving behind firm, white meat that has a pleasing taste. But even if a day of spearing doesn't result in meat for the table, that's OK.

"It's just like deer hunting," he said. "You don't have to see a deer to have had a good afternoon."

Joe Albert is an writer from Bloomington. Reach him at writerjoealbert@gmail.com.