A full circle celebration of connection and cold hands.
There’s something special about chasing fish and making memories in a place as wild and welcoming as Manitoba. This February, a group of eight of us hit the road for a Friday-to-Friday adventure packed with laughter, frozen fingers, heartbreakers at the hole, and a whole lot of greenbacks. The first half of the trip was spent with the Ladies Midwest Meetup (LMM) crew for one final send-off, and the second half was all about good times with good friends. It was a trip that tested us in all the right ways and gave us memories we’ll be holding onto for a long time.
About LMM: Ladies Midwest Meetup (LMM) was founded by Alicia Gajewsky (known online as Alicia Joy Outdoors) with the mission to create experiences for women to get outdoors, meet like-minded individuals, and forge lifelong friendships. Through both ice and open water events, LMM became a space where women of all experience levels could connect, grow, and share their passion for fishing. It offered not only skill-building and adventure, but also empowerment and support in a typically male-dominated space. As LMM hosted its final meetup, the community it built and the connections it inspired will live on well beyond the ice.
The first event I was able to attend was the second meetup, right here in Hayward, Wisconsin in 2020 (photo below). Since then, I lost count of how many I had attended. I was even fortunate enough to be able to co-host three different events that brought women together in St. Germaine, WI for trophy crappies, Hayward again for an Intro to Ice event, and Algoma, WI for a Salmon Fishing weekend.
Part One: The Final LMM Weekend on Lake Winnipeg
This trip kicked off in Hayward, Wisconsin where the night before we left for Canada, Jay (@jay_wilderness) and I had a full house with our friends Dori (@dorii_sell) and Jimmy Sell (@jimmy_sell), Krysten (@krystenpotega) and Trevor (@thinz9) Hinz, and Taylor Cunningham (@taylortello). In the morning, we met up with our friend and car-pool driver Nick (@raginsconnie), loaded into our vehicles, and began the long haul north.
We passed through Duluth on our way up, which gave us some of the sketchiest moments of the entire drive—wind ripping across the Bong Bridge had Nick white-knuckling the steering wheel and the rest of us whispering “holy shit.”… couple of crazy cross winds on highway 2 really threw us around the road. Just outside of Warroad, Minnesota, we approached the border crossing into Manitoba with our 23-foot trailer packed to the brim. We were flagged and asked to pull off to the side. Nothing to hide—but the thought of having to unpack and reorganize everything gave us a brief moment of panic. Luckily, we were waved through after a short wait, and laughter quickly replaced the nerves. Classic road trip chaos.
Before heading to the LMM Airbnb, Taylor and I made a quick detour to Gimli with our friend crew, where our second-leg Airbnb was located. We wanted to drop off most of the gear we wouldn’t need during the LMM portion of the trip—less clutter, less chaos later. Gimli is a charming little lakeside town, and it felt like a breath of fresh air before diving into the buzz of the weekend. Taylor Bosley (@taylorweigh) our friend and LMM trip-mate, thankfully made the trek up there with us and chueffered us down to the LMM house.
When we finally made it to the LMM house in Matlock, the group energy was already electric. High hopes, big smiles, and the kind of excitement only an LMM event can bring. Everyone had arrived at slightly different times, but as more and more of us rolled in, the energy only grew. That night was full of laughs, welcome hugs, and the ultimate cherry on top: generous gift bags from Element Custom Baits, Rapala, Frostbite Fishing, Manitoba Wildlife Federation, BUBBL’R, Hunt-Fish Manitoba, a local jerky company, and more. It was a perfect kickoff.
We also spent that evening making sure our hooks were barbless to meet Manitoba regulations—another bonding moment with everyone spread out around the living room, pinching barbs, talking, and gearing up for what was ahead.
We were outfitted with Ice Bound Excursions – Matt and Kieran, our guides. Our fishing days were full throttle—from 6:30 AM to 4:00 PM each day. The first morning, I was in a SnoBear with Kelsey Bell (@kelsey.inthewild), who coordinated the trip and is originally from Manitoba, along with Kayla Frome (@kastingwithkayla) and Taylor Bosley (@taylahweigh). The first ride out to the lake was hilarious—Kelsey took on an honorary role as a third guide and had to learn how to drive the SnoBear. After a little shaky morning and a little more confidence gained in the afternoon, she absolutely nailed it by the end of the day. We were blessed with full sun, no wind, and top-tier energy in our group.
Lake Winnipeg is a beast. You feel the scale of it immediately—especially when you’re riding out 9 to 15 miles across solid ice. It’s wild, raw, and kind of magical. SnoBears completely elevated the experience. Equipped with Mega Live, 360 imaging, and heat, we were able to stay comfortable while staying mobile. We could drill right from inside and stay warm in those bitter early morning hours—an absolute game-changer.
Of course, it wasn’t all easy. The ice was insanely thick—nearly two auger extensions deep—and several big fish were lost right at the bottom of the hole because we couldn’t turn their heads. I personally lost three giants and had to fight back some frustration. But everything finally clicked for me on day two. I landed a 25.5” greenback and broke down crying—tears of relief, joy, and pride. My friends and our guide were cheering me on and supporting me through it all. Not long after, I landed a 26.5” and felt completely in rhythm. All in all, between our group, everyone caught fish and BIG ones at that.
If you’ve never seen a greenback in person, it’s hard to explain just how breathtaking they are. Their color shifts in the light—emerald, gold, even flashes of teal—like they’ve been hand-painted by the water itself. Greenbacks get their glow from the limestone-rich waters of Lake Winnipeg—the minerals give their scales that iconic emerald shimmer. Catching one isn’t just about size; it’s about witnessing a fish so uniquely beautiful, it leaves you stunned for a second. Every time I pulled one up, it felt like I was holding a piece of art in my hands.
I didn’t take the photographs above, but check out some of these fish that were caught in our group! In order, Kelsey Bell @kelsey.inthewild, Stephanie Breyfogle @missteach.travel.fish, Stina Anderson @sc_anderson_adventures, Stacey Fetko @outdoors_mama78, and Emily Fransway @emily.wiscogirl.
I learned so much that weekend—how to approach new water, what works for greenbacks versus what doesn’t, how Mega Live seemed to spook fish less than LiveScope in certain conditions, the importance of bite windows, and navigating through extreme ice depths. It was one of the most enriching weekends I’ve ever had on the ice, and it only help to set us up for the rest of the trip learning from the experts.
I can’t go any further without shouting out the Ice Excursion team—they were absolutely incredible. From start to finish, their knowledge of the lake, help with our gear, and overall support made the entire experience smoother and more enjoyable. They were constantly checking in on us, helping troubleshoot any tech issues, and sharing valuable insight into where the fish were moving and when. I truly can’t recommend them enough—having a team like that in your corner on a big, wild lake like Winnipeg made all the difference.
Side note: We also made friends with barn cats at the SnoBear garage (10/10, would pet again).
Saying goodbye to LMM was bittersweet. Since 2020, these events have been where I’ve made my closest friendships. I even got to help coordinate three of them, and that made this one feel extra special. I’m incredibly grateful to Alicia for creating such a meaningful space for women in the outdoors. It was more than a trip—it was a platform, a sisterhood, and a celebration of what women are capable of when we show up for each other. I’ll miss it deeply, but I’ll never stop being thankful for the memories made through LMM.
Part Two: Friend Time in Manitoba
After the LMM weekend wrapped, the next chapter of our trip kicked off. Jay picked me and Taylor up in Matlock and brought us back to our Airbnb in Gimli, where the rest of our crew was waiting. Walking into that house felt like coming home. The energy was electric—laughter, hugs, and that kind of easy joy that only comes from being surrounded by your chosen family, even after just two days apart!
Our group was tight-knit: Krysten (who I met in 2020), Taylor (2021), Dori (2023), their spouses, my husband Jay, and our buddy Nick. Every one of us had met through LMM in some way, which made this second half of the trip feel like an extension of everything we’d just shared—just with a little more time to breathe.
Some trip lore: On day one, our snowmobile struggled with the lack of snow, and Jay missed a full day troubleshooting overheating issues—I felt so bad, especially knowing how smooth things were going for our SnoBear crew. One of our Heat Hogs (thankfully we packed two) also bounced out of the sled and shattered, and even our Garmin got tossed—but somehow survived. Still, we found our rhythm. We ended up fishing out of Nick’s truck; it wasn’t quite as cozy as the SnoBears, but we adapted quickly. I’d clear holes while Nick and Jay drilled, we’d fish off either side of the truck, rotate to stay warm, and keep in touch as we explored different parts of the lake. Once we dialed it in, it worked just fine.
We had our share of chaos—getting stuck in a drift so deep we weren’t sure we’d get out. But when all hope seemed lost, the crew snapped into action. Tow straps came out, plans were made on the fly, and we leapfrogged our way to freedom—one stuck truck at a time. It was a mess, and it was teamwork at its finest.
One of the most meaningful nights of the entire trip was our surprise wig night. We’d been quietly planning it ahead of time—DMs flying, screenshots of wigs shared in the group chat, and one specific plan to gift Taylor her own wig: a Lord Farquaad-style piece that matched the chaotic energy of the rest. Taylor is currently undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer, and we wanted to lift her spirits with something lighthearted and fun. We didn’t exactly plan on when this was going to occur; but when Taylor mentioned she was headed for a shower, Dori, Krysten, and I exchanged silent glances—we knew it was time.
The house turned into full-blown chaos as everyone sprinted to their rooms, threw on wigs and hair caps, adjusting each other’s to make sure they were perfect. When she came out, the giggling gave us away. We handed her the wig and crown, and we all ate dinner in costume. It was hilarious, heartfelt, and one of those moments that reminded us sometimes the best kind of support shows up in the form of a ridiculous wig and a dinner table full of love.
Another night, we made a family fish fry. Dori, Taylor, Jimmy, and I hit the ice again while Jay and Nick stayed back to watch sports, have a few beers, and start prepping dinner. Krysten and Trevor went off to explore a new part of the lake. We’d all caught fish throughout the week, and once everything was cleaned and ready, we realized we had more than enough for a proper feast. The cabin smelled like pure nostalgia—fried walleye, french fries, and laughter rolling through the walls. It felt like a real family dinner.
As for the fishing—it was fairly steady. Some days better than others, a few heartbreakers, and a few solid catches. The last morning hit especially hard. I hooked into a monster that tangled in the LiveScope and got off right at the hole. I just broke down crying. The shack with Nick and Jay went silent. No one had to say anything—they just let me feel it, say a few choice words, and try again. The remainder of the morning was slow, and then eventually all the rest of our group came out by us; they were in further by the mouth and had one heck of a morning of great catches!
Later that afternoon, before quitting time, Jay, Nick, and I moved in closer to our friends and played a round of musical chairs in Dori and Jimmy’s Otter hub—rotating spots every so often so no one got skunked. It was goofy, low-stress, and just pure fun. The kind of thing that sounds silly until you’re belly-laughing out on the ice with your best people. We didn’t care the size of the fish we caught in that moment—it was just about being together, soaking up those last few hours before the fishing wrapped up and it was time to pack.
And just when we thought the week was winding down, Jay had his moment. He’d had a tough go—losing a few heartbreakers right at the bottom of the hole and only landing eaters all week. He was due for something big, something beautiful; he stepped away from our group around the Sell hub, looked at us, and said, “I’m going back to the truck and I’m gonna catch a damn fish.” The man was dead serious. A little while later, I heard him holler. He’d marked a fish on the Garmin, set the hook, felt the head shakes, and when that 24-inch walleye hit the hole, I ran over to help pull it through. Everyone came running. The whole crew was cheering—yelling, laughing, celebrating. It was one of those perfect, full-circle moments after a week of slow grinds, good company, and a whole lot of heart. Pure happiness.
Before we knew it, we were taking our last group photo out on the ice—wind in our faces, smiles tired but full—and making our way back to the cabin to pack up for the long trek home the next day. The week had been everything: challenging, hilarious, emotional, and unforgettable. One of those trips that stays with you long after the bags are unpacked.
Final Thoughts
This trip was full of challenges—machines breaking down, fish coming unbuttoned, and figuring out how to fish a new body of water. But the thing is, we worked through every single one of them together. And that made the victories so much sweeter.
Manitoba in winter is no joke—between Facebook groups like Winnipeg Ice Reports, local recs, and good ol’ gut instinct, we planned smart and stayed safe. One of our friends even had her dry bag recovered thanks to the kindness of strangers and a shared post online! People up there really look out for one another. If you’re planning a trip up, I highly recommend joining the page. While it’s not official information, angler-to-angler communication is some of the best out there, and the seasoned ones up that way are very much wells of knowledge for the majority of questions you could have.
Would I go back? In a heartbeat. Just maybe with our own vehicle, a smaller trailer, and no 30 mph headwinds on the drive north. We hauled three sleds in a 23-foot trailer, and let’s just say… it was a trip up in more ways than one. If you’r reading this, pack tow straps and then pack more, maybe some cat-litter or carpet for traction.. pro tip.
As for the future? I feel at peace. I’m so thankful for the years of LMM I got to be part of—for the friendships it sparked, the confidence it built, and the memories that will always mean the world to me. So many of us thought we were the only women who did things like this—who found joy in early mornings on the ice and felt most at home with a rod in hand.
But through LMM, Alicia created something so much bigger: a space where women could come together, connect, and realize they weren’t alone. She cast a wider net and built a true community—one grounded in shared passion, support, and the kind of camaraderie that sticks with you long after the ice melts. The second half of this trip reminded me that those friendships are still going strong—and they will be, well beyond the ice.
Now, I’m looking forward to open water, sunshine, and planning a trip back up in 2027. But first? Jay and I are hopping on a cruise next winter. Something tells me the only ice we’ll be seeing then will be in our drinks.
Places We Loved
Before wrapping up, I’ve gotta give a shoutout to a few places that added so much to the experience. First up—Bruce’s Marine in Gimli. Before we even got lines in the water, they set us up with local tips, pointed us toward the best access points, and made us feel right at home. Whether you’re a first-timer or just need a second opinion, they’re the folks to talk to.
Tim Hortons quickly became a staple during the LMM portion of the trip. Between the cold brew and the Timbits, it was the daily treat we didn’t know we needed. I polished off three boxes by the end of the week and have exactly zero regrets.
And of course, Carlos Cucina—we couldn’t resist going back. The food was insanely good both times, and our server Marnie was the kind of person you hope to meet when you’re out of town: kind, funny, and just the best. I had the Marnie Mac one night (basically their version of a Big Mac) and a mushroom burger the next that I’m still dreaming about. Don’t even get me started on the poutine. It’s a must-stop every time we’re in town.
And then there was Cochrane Creek Farm—a small, humble farmstand that totally surprised us in the best way. We rolled in on a whim and were greeted by the nicest gentleman, who welcomed us like old friends. He shared stories of his farm, his wonderful wife, showed us around the menu, and served up something we’ll be dreaming about until next time: Smokies Taco Dogs. It was after our last full day on the ice—cold, tired, and riding the high of a good day—and those taco dogs hit like magic. We ended up laughing and eating right there with our guides, just soaking it all in. It was one of those simple, perfect moments that captures the heart of a trip like this.
And if you find yourself in Selkirk, make sure to swing by Smoke N Fish. It’s a one-stop shop for live bait, tackle, and gear, tobacco, and other goodies available on-site too. We stopped in to load up on tackle and check out their impressive selection. A local spot that has a little bit of everything and a whole lot of personality. Their customer service was excellent.
Thank you for reading, friend!
