As all outdoorsmen know, it takes a lifetime to learn about Mother Nature's ways, and things not to do to enjoy her bounty!

When I was about 17 (which was a while ago), my friend Ken and I decided to fish until we caught our limit, as most of the season's ice fishing had been catch-and-release and a walleye fillet is pretty hard to get after spring breakup! We decided to stay on Lesser Slave Lake until our limit was filled.

Total darkness was only minutes away as Ken pulled the last walleye in and we began to clean our catch. The veteran fishermen had already left before sunset.

"Scared of the dark," we laughed.

This was the last day of ice fishing. A hot wind had melted nearly all the snow off the ice during the day. Every fishing hole on the lake was sucking water downward, sounding like hundreds of toilets flushing at once. Huge pools of water collected across the ice, putting tremendous weight on it.

Sometimes the smartest decision is knowing when to leave the lake.

When we finally headed back, we couldn't see the shoreline or any lights. All of the trails had flooded and disappeared beneath the water.

With chains and a six-inch lift on the old 4x4, we figured we'd have no trouble getting back. Twenty minutes later we still couldn't find shore. Lesser Slave is a huge lake, and we had no idea where we were.

Suddenly Ken let out a blood-curdling yell and the headlights disappeared beneath the water. Water rushed through the door seals. I slammed the truck into reverse, floored the accelerator, and shot backwards like a scared rabbit.

Using the stars, we finally found our way north and reached shore nearly two hours later. Our hair stood on end for the rest of the night.

We decided those old fishermen probably knew a thing or two after all.