Sunrise, sunset on the ice

ALEXANDRIA, Minn. — The older I get, the higher the likelihood I should be worried about something when I head out for an ice fishing adventure.

I'll never forget the really important things, like charging my flasher battery, packing my boots or making sure I have a half-dozen rods rigged and ready. But I can't help but wonder ... did I close the garage door when I left? Did I turn off the stove? Did I bring my fishing license?

One thing my hard-water buddies and I don't spend much time pondering is what kind of conditions await us or whether or not we'll catch any fish. When Mike Wirth of Waukee, Ward Stubbs of Cedar Falls and I decide to go ice fishing, we go. We'll figure the rest out when we get there.

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If we don't find enough ice to drive on, we'll target lakes where we can drag our gear from shore. If we have a few inches of snow on the ice, we'll attach the skis we've crafted for our flipover tents. If the bite is tough, so be it. We're out there because we enjoy the sport, not to fill the freezer or put a trophy on the wall.

During the same time frame a year ago, we found only six inches of ice and four to five inches of snow cover in the Alexandria, Minn., area. The drags were grueling, which kept angling pressure to a minimum, and we were rewarded with outstanding fishing for everything from crappies and bluegills to trophy walleyes, largemouth bass and northern pike.

This year, Stubbs and Wirth got the jump on me and hit the area in early January. There wasn't quite enough ice to drive on (we prefer at least 13 to 14 inches), but there was just a dusting of snow and the drags were manageable. The weather cooperated, too, with cloud cover and fog and the crappies and bluegills stayed on the bite all day long.

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A week later when I joined them for another visit to Alex, conditions were much different. We rolled in early in the afternoon, made a stop for minnows and headed out.

On the positive side, there was 16 to 17 inches of good, clear ice on our favorite lakes. That quality and quantity meant we could drive our half-ton pickups almost anywhere we wanted to fish as long as we followed the paths taken by other vehicles, avoided pressure ridges and steered clear of spots where large trailer-style shacks had been parked.

On the negative side, a sharp cold front had settled in, there was no snow cover and the ice was crystal clear.

At times, the thunderous reverberations of expanding and cracking ice were unsettling.

"Whoa!" Wirth chirped at one point. "That crack came right through my tent."

The fish didn't seem to like it much, either. We caught a few pesky perch and an occasional bluegill, but none of the crappies that kept Wirth and Stubbs busy all day the previous week.

That changed as the sun began to set. All of a sudden, the crappies showed up. At first, they were finicky. They swam up and looked at our 5-millimeter, plastic-tipped tungsten jigs, but they wouldn't commit. Then they turned on, and for the next hour or so we all had steady if not chaotic action inside our tents.

The following morning, we were on the ice an hour before sunrise. The crappies were ready to go and the bite was fast and furious until the sun climbed over the horizon. Then, like the night before, they began to ignore our best moves until they finally disappeared completely.

Over three days, we fished three lakes with similar results. There were crappies to be caught, but the bite windows were largely limited to sunrise and sunset. Clear ice with no snow cover, booming adjustments in the ice sheet and the cold front were likely factors.

Still, the three of us combined for more than 100 crappies each day, plus a few bluegills and a couple of walleyes, bass and northern pike — all of which were released.

The next time we get out, we'll probably be dealing with totally different conditions.

That's OK. I just hope I remember to close the garage door.