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People who don't go icefishing think they're not missing much. They also think that staring at a hole in the ice can't be much fun for very long.

But what do they know?

Sure, holes in the ice look pretty much the same, it's true.

Yet people who don't icefish also don't realize what devoted winter anglers think about when there's nothing happening in the ice hole, which is often the case.

People who don't icefish tend to be wrong about a lot of things.

For example, icefishing is much more exciting than it appears. Sure, there are a few dull moments … but Monday Night Football has 'em, too.

Watching a still bobber gets old, but so do most Tom Cruise movies.

Believe it or not, there actually are memorable moments in the sport of icefishing.

You don't hear about them much because — unlike summer vacations, when folks take a bunch of photographs of themselves acting foolish or holding up big fish — wintertime anglers aren't big on spending a week in an ice shack or taking snapshots of the fellas with their empty bottle of blackberry brandy.

Nevertheless, the memorable moments are for real.

My brother Robert still remembers the night his friend's pickup truck headed for the bottom of Lake Koronis with him in it. Thank goodness, Robert and his buddy both escaped unharmed.

Three months later, they also were reunited with the pickup. It was a little soggy but otherwise salvageable.

They found the truck, thanks to one of those underwater cameras. Crappies were swimming around in the truck bed, Robert said. He won't forget.

People who don't go icefishing probably don't realize that fish are actually caught.

It's easy to make fun of winter anglers because of their reputation for having all-night parties in their ice shacks until everybody falls asleep with their boots still on.

The truth is icefishing has nothing to do with being a party animal. It's really about catching something. Or trying.

Truly, there's a magic moment when one's bobber begins to sink. What fish awaits? What size? Such is the joy of angling, and it transcends all seasons.

I shall never forget a long sled-dog ride into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness to reach Knife Lake within a snowball's toss of Dorothy Molter's historic island.

We drilled a few holes, sunk a few cutbaits for lake trout, pinched a small flag on the line and waited. Within mere minutes, the line and flag began to move into the hole like a ribbon snake. Fish on.

For two hours, the line flags moved and lake trout soon flopped on the ice.

When winter fishing follows the script, it's a memory.

Some iceanglers seem to have a sixth sense about where to drill the hole.

A fellow named Ivan Burandt has that talent. He's a Mille Lacs guide, winter or summer.

One winter day, we tagged along with our television cameras as Burandt searched for a walleye bite. It was the middle of the day.

Burandt dropped a jigging spoon, tipped with the head of a fathead minnow. Thunk. Fish on. More memories.

The fraternity of iceanglers also has a winter guru, of sorts. He's a Minnesota gentleman by the name of Dave Genz. They say he's Mr. Icefisherman. And he is.

He's invented a bunch of winter fishing stuff, Clam houses and the like. He's concocted lures, ice rods, you name it.

It's a business now for Genz, but it wasn't always that way.

He got into icefishing to start with because … well … because he loves it. People who don't icefish don't understand loving it.

One of my fondest memories is about an icefisherman whose name I don't know. One day I noticed him sitting alone on a 5-gallon bucket in the vastness of the Mille Lacs icescape.

He was wrapped in a coonskin coat and, near as I could tell, he hadn't moved from his bucket for hours. I couldn't stand it.

How can any sane man sit still for that long, I wondered.

Minutes later, I wandered over to the chap. He didn't look up until I was nearly staring into the same ice hole he was.

I popped the question: "How can you sit here so long?"

''Well,'' he said, pausing, ''as I look in the hole, I imagine I'm staring at a giant martini and my bobber's the olive.''

People who don't icefish probably don't like martinis.

Ron Schara may be reached at ron@mnbound.com.

Schara's 250-page book, "Ron Schara's Minnesota Fishing Guide" (Tristan Outdoors; $19.95) is available by clicking here or by calling 888-755-3155.

October through December, Ron Schara's short feature "The Outdoor Beat" airs at 7:55 a.m. ET Sundays on ESPN2. Click here to view this week's show descriptions.