I wasn’t born a fisherman, but in Alaska it’s easy to become one.

I drove up to Mosquito Lake Saturday to join an ice-fishing outing organized by the state Department of Fish and Game.

Sport fish biologist Rich Chapell had pre-drilled six holes in the lake and I wandered off to one of them after he handed me a two-foot ice fishing pole.

Later, as sunlight spilled over the tall trees guarding Mosquito Lake, which until now had kept me and my tiny pole hidden and shivering in the shadows, light revealed the thin layer of ice wrapped around my fishing line as I jigged it through a soccer-ball-sized hole bored through three feet of ice.

I learned to fly fish in the ponds and puddles of Indiana, hooking bluegills and crappies. During the three years I lived in Petersburg, I landed coho and king salmon on flies. Ice fishing is a decidedly more passive approach.

Trout didn’t seem interested in the Swedish Pimple lure dangling at the end of my line. I stared into the hole as bits of slush and ice formed on the water’s surface for what seemed like an hour, but was only 12 minutes.

After another 12-minute hour, I made a game of lowering the fishing line into the water by small increments and then slowly pulling the rod back up to see how thick I could get the ice to form around the monofilament. Across the frozen lake, hot dogs spit and sizzled on a propane grill. Parents stood by as kids squeaked and laughed as they dropped their lines hoping a cutthroat trout would swim by and strike.

Ice fishing allows a lot of time for conversation. Chapell gave me the lay of the lake. He explained the size restrictions for the high use area, along with the eating habits of the cutthroat trout that reside in the lake.

A conversation with another local included topics like Frank Herbert’s classic science fiction novel “Dune,” Seneca’s ideas on the value of time well-spent, the political genius of Abraham Lincoln and the way light interacts with the spray of sea water when the wind blows against the tide in Lynn Canal.

In the midst of our conversation I felt a strike on my line. I couldn’t reel it in because the ice still frozen around my line had grown too thick to spool around the reel. I cast the pole aside and grabbed the line to pull the fish in. But it was gone.

During the two hours I fished, three fish were caught, one was a keeper.

After I left, Zack Acquistapace hooked a 14-inch cutthroat, a legal fish by the slot-size bag limit that allows catches between 14 and 22 inches.

I called around town this week to find ice-fishing experts, to learn if anyone out there is subsisting on fresh trout.

Marvin Willard of Klukwan said he and his friends go for fun and, during most winters, they only have to hand auger through about a foot and a half of ice compared to the three feet Chapell bored through to the gear box of his gas powered auger.

Willard said you can get everything you need for ice fishing in local sporting good stores and offered a little advice for how to best find cutthroat trout.

“When you fish them you gotta make sure you have a good sinker,” Willard said. “As soon as it hits bottom you move it up about a foot.”

He also advised potential winter anglers to dress warmly, to travel with friends and to carry rope in case someone falls through.

“We usually spend about two to three hours out there,” Willard said. “You very seldom catch a good day. You have to dress warm because there’s a north breeze coming through the channel.”

My entry into the world of ice fishing didn’t land me a tasty dinner but I had a good time anyway. I lost a fish, true, but I spent the afternoon in a stunningly beautiful place and met a bunch of nice people. I look forward to more dialogue and fishing with the folks of Haines.