A seriously sunny day for two casual fishermen on the ice

NISSWA, MINN. - It was sunny and warm (for mid-January) as Lindy Frasl steered his truck across the ice of an area lake midday last week.

Our plan for the afternoon was to angle for sunfish. In the back of Lindy's pickup was the necessary gear: a portable fish house, an ice auger, heater and a variety rods, reels and terminal tackle.

According to the calendar, we should have had walleye fillets on our minds, but with the temperature in the 20s (above zero) we hoped the sunnies might be confused just enough to move up onto the 5-feet-deep flat to which we were headed and allow two eager fisherman an opportunity to catch a couple.

The slush that beleaguered ice anglers and snowmobilers following the Christmas snowstorm had since frozen beneath the foot or so of snow, and in most areas of the lake we were able to navigate with little effort, although we did get stuck briefly.

Before the December storm, sufficient ice -- clear, solid ice -- covered the lakes. Now, even with the snow we've had since, all bodes well for the upcoming Brainerd Jaycees $150,000 Ice Fishing Extravaganza scheduled for Saturday and held on Gull Lake, just a few miles from the lake Lindy and I intended to fish.

The ice was rough so Lindy drove slowly. Last March, we had fished this lake and caught our limits of sunnies. We were headed for the same location.

"Did you mark the spot on your GPS?" I asked Lindy. "No, but I should have," he answered as he glanced about, using binoculars to spot a shoreline reference.

"Let's try it here," Lindy suggested as he shoved his truck into park.

When we drilled the first hole, the auger brought up a gob of weeds. Too shallow. We moved 100 yards farther from shore. This time there were less weeds and the water was a bit deeper, about 5 feet, so we drilled a second hole and set up Lindy's portable shelter.

We each lowered a tiny jig to which we had skewered wax worms. In the darkness of the ice fishing shelter, we could easily watch our baits -- and hopefully some sunnies. There was no need for a fish locator.

As I stared into the column of ice, I wondered: If the probability of a fish or fishes being directly under an 8-inch hole in the frozen water could be calculated, would we have stayed home? Sure you can drill many, many holes and move often, but is there a formula for how long to wait with line suspended at any given spot? If fish, in this case sunnies, are absent, is it because a big northern pike is lurking nearby? If you change locations will a school of half-pound 'gills suddenly swarm around the spot you vacated?

These mental dilemmas are particularly compounded for casual ice anglers.

A half-hour passed and no sunnies appeared. "Let's move," Lindy said as if reading my mind.

We slid out another block or so, drilled two more holes and once again erected the portable shelter. It was a bit less weedy here. Still, a big, bushy aquatic plant of some sort lay directly under my hole, a bit too deep to dislodge with my ice rod. Stubbornly I lowered my jig to one side of the obstruction and began my vigil.

Lindy had a better view of the bottom and shortly he reported a "keeper" sunny eying his jig.

"Got him," Lindy said as he reared back and set the hook.

A bit afterward, Lindy spotted a big pike, and an instant later the fish took his tiny jig. It was quite a battle as the pike pulled line from the tiny spinning reel.

Eventually, Lindy was able to finesse the fish's head up into the hole. I reached down, grasped the toothy pike behind the gills and hauled it from the icy water. It weighed about 5 pounds. After a bit of contemplation, Lindy released it back down the hole.

As the sun neared the southwestern horizon, more sunnies appeared below us. Most were active, and with just a bit of enticement we could get them to hit.

When it was too dark to see our lures, we called it quits with five keeper sunnies for the afternoon.

"Enough for a meal," Lindy remarked.

Bill Marchel, an outdoors columnist and photographer, lives near Brainerd.