There is something about the descent into a trout valley in Southeast Minnesota that puts me in a good mood like few other things can.  I started my journey on Saturday with the hopelessly boring drive on the highway south of the cities.  The only thing of interest is the occasional stream that is passed over; I make sure I’m in the right lane at every stream crossing so I can get the best view of the water below, helping to get a gauge on the overall water conditions for the area. I hit Rochester and find it to be more of an annoyance than anything [better watch your speed, cops have someone pulled over every time I’m though on 52].  At some point I get off the highway, at least now there are some interesting old farms and other curiosities but it is still a bleak landscape, painted by someone whose palette doesn’t go beyond gray and tan.  Then suddenly the road is pointing downhill.  Down a steep hill.  The colors spectrum changes from mostly gray to mostly green. Usually as I get close to my fishing destination my speed increases in anticipation of getting there, but today I find myself riding the brake though the valley as I try to take it all in.  There are several streams that come together here, and there are many people out enjoying the great day.

My destination is a stream I have not been on before, and actually had very little info on other than some very limited second hand accounts.  One key feature is that it is lightly fished due to lack of access points.  I had Google Earthed the crap out of this stream, and the parking spot I was looking for was easy to find.  I was disappointed that there were three other cars there.  One vehicle had three generations of trout anglers about to head up the trail, they shared a bit of info with me, assuring me I would like what I found up in the valley.  I was probably five minutes behind them on the trail, but they were nowhere in sight.  The trail paralleled the river which was a few hundred yards away.  Eventually the trail and river converged, and there were my buddies form the parking lot.  I quietly slipped past them, walked hard for about ten more minutes and decided to start fishing. 

When I’m on a new stream I fish very poorly. Or at least very quickly.  I had no way of knowing exactly what was around the next bend, where the best water was, or where any other anglers were.  Having fished a lot of streams I have learned that all trout streams tend to “behave” in a similar manner, which means that the ways that pools and rifles are arranged on one stream will likely be repeated on a completely different stream.  The stream had a strong “Lower Kinni” vibe.  Part of this was likely due to the hike up the valley, but there were a few riffles that had a twin on a different creek a hundred miles away. 

What flies worked the best here?  I had no idea.  As is usually the case, I had a black wooly bugger tied on from the last time out, and I made a few casts with it, but my MO on this type of water is to nymph my way upstream, and then bugger my way back.  So, I changed up with a nymph and a cork but continued to fish fast.  There was so much good looking water here that I just couldn’t slow down.  I would make a half dozen casts into “the juice” [this is Gunnar’s name for the “spot-on-the-spot”, as in “Quit casting into that bullshit water and throw into THE JUICE!”] and then march on to the next spot.  It is hard to describe what the juice looks like, as it is different in each riffle or pool, but anyone who is an experienced angler will know what I mean.  It usually involves an edge near the top of a run where the riffle comes in, where the current speed and depth are just right.  I found myself constantly alternating between looking back over my shoulder, anticipating other anglers coming upstream and straining to see what was up ahead.    Eventually I started catching fish.  Not sure if it was because I had slowed down, found the magic fly [I was using a one-of-a-kind beadhead thing], or if I just got into better water, but this stream appeared to be filthy with trout.  Most likely looking water would give up a few, and in a couple of spots I left them biting.  I got to a point where the tasty water changed to flat “gator water”, and I figured it was a good point to stop and start fishing back.  A break was in order, and I took my time eating a sandwich on a grassy bank.  I thought about how glad I was to be fishing alone this day.   I had asked my kids if they were up for trout fishing, but the response was less than lukewarm.  I had considered trying to hook up with a friend this day, but my schedule is unpredictable, and I never know what I’m going to want to do, or where I’m going to want to go.  Getting someone to put up with my unpredictability, and is willing and able to keep up, will have their own gear, know how to use it etc. is tough.  I like fishing with others, especially on known water, but on this day I was glad to have all the adventure to myself.

Despite all of my marching and fish catching, the spectacle of a mature hardwood forest on a spring day was not lost on me.  The forest floor was a green carpet speckled with millions of white flowers, reminding me of stars in the night sky.  I was wishing for a camera better than what is in my phone, but it would have to do.  I was keeping an eye out for morels, but never did find a single one. 

There were quite a few Pheasant Back mushrooms sprouting from dead logs though, and I decided today was going to be the day I would harvest some.  I could already imagine cooking them up along with the five trout that I was quite sure I would catch on the way back downstream.  And I figured I should dig up a few of the millions of ramps growing in the forest while I was at it, these wild relatives of onions were another thing I had never harvested before.  [note to self—put a small shovel in your vest for ramp digging detail, digging them up barehanded is tough and dirty]

Sandwich eaten, bugger tied back on, let the trout harvesting begin.  This stream has special regs like many other Minnesota streams, and there is no kill between 12 and 16 inches.  The best ones for the pan are in the 9 to 11” range anyway.  First cast- twelve incher, about as big as I had seen in this stream.  I let it go, and was soon hooked to another, maybe a bit smaller.  I put the tape measure on it to confirm it was under a foot, and it went in The Sack.  The Sack is a mesh bag that mostly stays wadded up in the back of my vest, once in a while it gets to carry some trout.  Soon there were a couple more in there.  Funny thing, when I start fishing for trout that I’m going to keep it starts to be not as much fun.  When I’m catch and release fishing [which is most of the time] and one gets away I don’t really care at all.   When I’m keeping fish and a “sacker” gets off just as I’m about to grab him I can’t help but get pissed. 

A few fish started rising here and there, despite the fact I had hardly seen a bug on the water all day. There must have been something hatching, as many unidentified warblers and songbirds were picking things off as well.  The trout were hitting the bugger enough to get me to put aside any thoughts of dry fly fishing, but at some point they started coming up steady enough to get me to make the switch.  The only bugs I had seen were a few caddis, so I put on the old trusty Henryville Special.  They couldn’t get enough of it.  At some point The Sack had five trout in it, and I stopped fishing to clean them in the style of my grandpa.  He always gut and gilled his trout streamside, and I mostly keep the tradition alive, I have a little knife in my vest that is used only for this purpose.  I figured that doing this was probably illegal, but then continuing to fish with a limit of five in The Sack probably is too.  I took my chances with both, finally ending up in a run with 50 trout rising along the far bank.  I did a time check as I got to this spot, knowing I was now at the point where I was going to be late getting home.  How late was still debatable.  After tormenting another dozen fish I decided enough is enough and I began the march back to the truck.  I sent a text home indicating I was walking out of the valley.  The hike out took about a half hour.

Epilogue:

I cooked the trout as I always do, de-headed and de-finned, but otherwise whole, pan fried.  I chopped and sautéed the wild mushrooms and ramps and mixed them into some brown rice for a great accompaniment to the trout.  Wild trout, wild mushrooms and wild veggies, all harvest from the same verdant valley.  Sometimes life is pretty good.

There was one trout left, which I ate for breakfast this morning with more ramps and over-easy eggs.

Dream up, dream up,
let me fill your cup…

She had me there.  “That’s true”, I said, “but this guy seems way less douchey than most, and even though I’ve never met him, we do have mutual friends…I think the guy might be a cop or something, and judging by his blog I’m pretty sure he’s harmless.  The guy is always putting up pictures of big trout, which is more than I’ve been able to do this year.  But…..if you don’t want me to go, I’m sure Gunnar would be up for going steelhead fishing this weekend…and Gunnar did say something about a new strip club opening up, we’ll probably check it out on the way home…”

Fast forward to Sunday morning at Eddie’s house.  I really needed to break this trout fishing jinx.

I had left the decision as to where we were to go up to him, which is a very odd move for me.  But I’ve seen his posts, he fishes a lot, catches plenty of above average sized trout, so I’m willing to trust his judgement.  Besides, all of my best spots have been marginal or worse this year.  He said bring a life vest in case we use a canoe, I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, but I brought one with to be sure.  I wasn’t even sure which state we would be headed towards, so I made sure all licenses were current in the five-state area, and I brought my passport just in case he had some crazy Nipigon mission in mind.  I was just hoping to get into some good trout fishing, and after a quick chat in his kitchen we had the canoe loaded up and were off.

We had a great talk on the way to his first spot, talking of places we’ve been, mutual people we know, that sort of stuff.  He’s been at the trout fishing thing for about six or seven years, and has a crazy exploratory nature. He writes a blog that I enjoy, a lot of you have probably seen it — Eddie Rivard Fly Fishing

Even when I used to fish a lot more than I do now I didn’t explore like he does.  It later occurred to me how much easier it is today to seek out new spots with all the info that can be gleaned off the internet.  It became pretty obvious early in our conversation that there were no trout spots I knew of that he hadn’t fished and probably caught an 18 incher out of.  He did make a comment about how he had not been able to figure out where “Area 51” was, even though there were power lines in a photo of me with a trout there.  “Area 51” is a Triple Secret Spot of mine that very few people know the exact location of, and I couldn’t remember even posting a picture where I named the spot, but it amused me to learn that I was not the only one that would spend hours on google Earth trying to figure out where someone’s fish picture was taken.

Our day ended up mostly being a series of what I would call “hit and run” spots—park, hit a couple of “money spots”, then back to the vehicle.  The first spot we tried had the water pretty high and muddy, not quite what I would call unfishable, but getting there.  I hooked up right away on a nice twenty-incher, which turned out to be a redhorse.  We never decided if it actually ate my streamer or just got snagged in its ample upper lip. No sign of trout, but it was cool to be fishing on water that while it may not be completely secret, it was totally off my radar.

We had a quick look at this unknown creek, Eddie couldn’t resist making a couple of casts right by the road

We bopped around and tried a few more spots, but Eddie eventually decided we would need to find some clear water.  And clear water we found.  We ended out our day on a pretty little creek with an abundant population of little trout, and even they proved to be too much for me.  Eddie assured me that he had tangled with some big fish in the creek before and I believe him—there were numerous undercuts and hidey-holes where a big trout could live, just waiting for the next fingerling trout to munch.

So the jinx continues.

I keep saying how good our local trout fishing was in the 90s.  If you weren’t around then, imagine this—The Rush is thick with fat browns, mid teen to low 20 inch fish were common.  The Upper Kinni had over 5,000 trout per mile, and the lower had great numbers of 10-16” browns, and it always seemed like there was a hatch.  And no kayakers floating over your fish. Even the Willow had a strong population of trout of all sizes, you could even expect dry fly action most evenings.  There was no internet, no Google Earth, no place to post your reports.  Maybe at the local fly shop, but that was about it.  When Eddie asked me if I had ever fished this spot or that spot, I always had to say no.  The fishing was so good on the home streams that there was no need to explore.  And every time I did go on a mission to the Eau Galle or the Trimbelle or some other similar spot I always had the same result—nice streams, there are fish to be caught, but it just didn’t make sense to drive by miles of the best trout water in the Eastern US to explore.

I keep saying that the streams will come back, and they will. But for now it appears that exploring is necessary. There are more good anglers, and less secrets.  In the 80s and 90s the vehicles I had were unpredictable at best, and more than once found me broken down somewhere.  Vehicles today are all good, I never see any beaters parked at the streams, or anywhere else for that matter.  A vehicle that is reliable and gets good gas mileage may be the best piece of trout equipment there is.  Match it up with high speed internet to access resources like Google, the USGS Streamflow Gauges, and DNR websites, there’s no good reason to not be able find somewhere to fish.  So I guess I better get busy and find me some good water to fish. I’ve got a milk run in mind, this weekend or maybe next.

And remember that even the best vehicle won’t do you any good if you run out of gas.

“Mille Lacs” is French for “1,000 lakes”.  This is a pretty accurate description, since Mille Lacs sprawls over 132,000 acres–about the same size of 1,000 small lakes, and it has been estimated than when it was at its peak in the 80’s that the walleye population was as high as 1,200 per acre, which equated to a walleye population of over 15 MILLION WALLEYES!  Fast forward to the 20-teens, and the population has dwindled to less than a tenth of that number.  No one seems to know for sure who or what is to blame for the decline.  Could it be over-fishing by sport anglers?  Maybe spearing and netting by Native Americans?  Global warming?  Mismanagement by the DNR?  Climate change? Aliens? Invasive species? Terrorists?  I think it may be a combination of all the above. Whatever the situation, there are many thousands of Minnesotans that depend of the Mille Lacs walleye fishery for their income or lifestyle, sometimes both.  And despite the fact that there are plenty of other species of fish to pursue in Mille Lacs–fish like perch, pike, muskies or bass, it is the ‘eyes that get all the attention.

And all eyes are on the DNR when it comes to an announcement of new regs for this lake.  It wasn’t that long ago when the state’s six fish limit was an obtainable goal here.  That six fish limit was changed to four, then two, then none.  Anglers out for the abbreviated ice season this winter were allowed one fish that had to be between 18 and 20 inches.  Guides, resort owners, and other local businesses are all feeling the impact of nobody out fishing the big lake.  Spring will soon be here, and many of us are awaiting what the powers at be of the DNR have in store for this year.   Carl and I met for coffee at The Zebra Mussel Diner in Isle last week, I was eager to get some insider information about the upcoming season.  Or lack thereof.  Carl and I go way back, and I knew I could count on him to bring me up to speed. I recorded our meeting, the conversation went like this:

ME:  So Carl, a lot of folks, both anglers and business owners, are nervous about how the 2016 walleye season on Mille Lacs is going to be regulated.  What can you tell me about new rules and regs for this year?

CARL:  What makes you think I’m going to tell you anything?  My phone has been ringing off the hook with calls from actual journalists.  I’m talking about calls from people like Matt Straw, Terry Tuma, Tim Lesmeister, even Ron Schara.  RON EFFING SCHARA is calling me, and you want the scoop?  You’re buying you know.

ME:  Hey, nice to see you too.  Now you know there is no one better to get the word out than me.  My blog is read by tens of anglers, some of them even claim to like it.  I’m not looking for all the details, just give me the broad strokes, you know, the highlights.  I’m hearing grumblings that there may not even be a walleye season…is that what you want me to tell everyone—that there will be no walleye season on Mille Lacs?  Oh, and your phone is ringing off the hook?  Who has their phone on a hook?

CARL:  Calm down, there absolutely will be a season. [Then there was mumbling I couldn’t understand, sounded like he was questioning my background and education] We have come up with a new plan that is bound to increase participation, increase the walleye population, and increase income and sales for many Minnesota businesses.  After long negotiations with several Minnesota companies, Mille Lacs anglers will be participating in the newest, most progressive concept in fisheries management ever thought of.

ME:  Yeah, progressive…that’s what Minnesota walleye anglers are looking for.  Why don’t you guys just stock more fish?  That seems to be a popular default answer for many of the outspoken ladies and gentlemen I see on TV.

CARL:  We are counting on Minnesota anglers being a little more open minded.  But believe it or not, stocking more fish is part of the plan.  Stocking fry or fingerling sized walleyes has never really shown any results.  But we always knew that if only we could stock the lake with “keeper” sized walleyes, like they do with trout in the streams, there would be an immediate and drastic improvement of the walleye population.  Growing walleyes to keeper size, around 14”, has always been cost prohibitive, so it’s never been done.  Until now.

ME:  Alright, this is starting to sound good.  You will be stocking walleyes, keeper walleyes, and there will be a season.  Will Mille Lacs be open for walleye fishing when the statewide fishing season starts in May?

CARL:  Yes, you will be able to um, go out on Mille Lacs when the season opens May 14.

ME:  That is great news.  What will the bag limit and size limit be?

CARL:  This is where things start to become a little more, uh, unusual…I guess you can say the limit will be five, with no size restrictions.

ME:  Really, five?  It’s been a bunch of years since you could keep five walleyes on Mille Lacs.

CARL:  Well, I never said anything about keeping five walleyes…like I said everyone needs to keep an open mind.  Getting this fishery to rebound will take some time, even with our new exciting plan.  And if the anglers are taking walleyes out at a rate faster than they are putting them in, we will be worse off than before.  The limit will be five, but you won’t be able to keep any.

ME:  So it will be what—a catch and release season where you are only allowed to catch and release five?

CARL:  Not quite.  Our statistics show that catch and release fishing, while seemingly without impact, will be too harmful to the population. We tried to come up with a plan that would allow fishing with barbless hooks, and even though our chief consultant Phillip Washington made some convincing points as to how a barbless catch and release season would work, we ultimately decided that anglers would not be able to figure it out, so we came up with something that will be fun for the anglers and still have no impact on the fishery.

ME:  So we can’t keep any fish, can’t even catch and release fish—what can we do?

CARL:  Underwater cameras have become very popular, and we decided that it would be best if anglers only viewed the walleyes with a camera, thereby eliminating all contact with the fish.  Of course, you would be free to make video recordings of the fish you see so you can enjoy them later, or even share the clips with friends on YouTube or Facebook.  Just make sure that once you have viewed five walleyes, you quit.  The limit for this season is five walleyes, any size, but they can only be seen, not caught.  DNR enforcement will be checking the recordings on your SD cards, so make sure you don’t go over your limit.

ME:  This started out sounding so good, but now that I’ve heard all the details, this sounds like a disaster.  Won’t all those “keeper-size” walleyes you guys are stocking help out right away?

CARL:  You missed one detail.  I said keeper walleyes were going to be stocked, but not by us—it is just too cost prohibitive.  It costs about $22 to grow a walleye to 14” and stock it in a lake, and we just don’t have the budget for it.  The walleyes will be stocked by all of you—the Mille Lacs anglers.  In fact it will be required that in order to fish on the Big Lake, you must bring one [or more] live walleye from a registered vendor, and release it into the lake before you launch your boat.

ME:  [blank stare]

CARL:  I’m sure you are wondering where the registered walleye vendors will be located—we have arranged for walleye vending machines to be installed at several popular bait shops surrounding the lake, and they all take credit cards.

ME: [blank stare]

CARL:  The walleye vending machines work like this—swipe your card, select the number of walleyes you want to purchase, hold your five gallon bucket under the chute, and pull the lever—instant walleye in the bucket.  Are you OK?  You’re not having a stroke or something are you?

ME:  Oh sorry, no, that just caught me by surprise, all these regs…I was thinking I would have good news for my readers, but now…well, I’m not sure what the average angler will think of this.

CARL:  I said these new regs would be progressive.  There have actually been similar plans used in Europe.

ME:  [blank stare]

CARL:  Quit doing that, it’s freaking me out.  And a blank stare can’t be heard on your little recorder.

ME:  Alright.  So for review, there will be a season, but in that season we can’t keep any walleyes.  And during that season, we can’t actually fish for walleyes, at least not with hook and line. But we can look at them on a camera, but we are only allowed to see five a day.  And we have to bring a live walleye, one we paid for, and stock it into the lake before we can launch a boat.  So the bag limit is actually negative one.

CARL:  You got it.  We think it is going to be popular.  J.C. Munchall from Nanook Underwater Cameras has already predicted record sales of their Mille Lacs Special camera—it has built in recording and has software that will calculate the length of the walleye on camera.  A software update scheduled for release this spring will also calculate the weight.  We may as well embrace the digital age.  Walleyes Unlimited have already scheduled a “Camera Only” tournament for June, and this event could get national coverage.  Now even vegans can participate in fishing tournaments!

ME: I think these new regs will be met with…resistance.  You know these fishermen will want to have some fish to bring home once in a while.  Or do you expect all the anglers on the lake to also turn vegan?

CARL:  We have thought of that, and we want everyone to be able to have a fish fry. Whenever an angler purchases a live walleye for stocking, he will get a coupon for 20 percent off of frozen tilapia fillets at any participating grocer.  Did you know tilapia are farm raised?  Eat all you want—they’ll make more!

ME:  I’m starting to hate you.  Let’s change topics…what about the muskie management of Mille Lacs, you have to admit this fishery is very popular, and continues to bring tourism to the area. It’s one of the only things still good about the lake.

CARL:  We are absolutely going to continue with the muskie program, with a few changes.  The muskies have done well in Mille Lacs, maybe too well.  There have just gotten to be too many big muskies in the lake—did you hear about the guy that caught a fifty pounder on a fly rod?  On a goddam effing fly rod!  If there are so many big muskies in the lake that even fly fishermen can catch them, it is definitely time to scale back. We are going to revert back to stocking “Shoepack” strain muskies.  They are native to Minnesota, but rarely get bigger than ten pounds.  We feel it is a much safer choice for the lake than the giant Leech Lake strain currently in there.

ME:  I’m glad you guys aren’t in charge of anywhere I regularly fish.

CARL:  Oh, and where do you fish nowadays?   ME:  You know, the usual spots like the Miss…..uh I mean…uh, Devils Lake North Dakota, yeah that’s it.  That’s where I fish now.  Devils Lake.  Now what about the smallmouth.  You have to admit that Mille Lacs is truly a world class smallmouth fishery.  I know lots of people, myself included, that have caught smallies six pounds or bigger here.  The Bassmasters are even coming here this summer for a big tournament.  Tell me you’re not going to mess with the smallmouth.

CARL:  Yeah, we’re going go ahead and do away with all smallmouth regulations.  Starting this year there will be no closed season, no size limit, and no bag limit.  It turns out all the Iowans that come up here like to eat them, and they do spend a lot of money at the casinos.  And they can’t tell the difference between a rock bass and a smallmouth, so rather than making things more confusing for them, we simplified it.

ME:  We’re done here. Check please!

 Suddenly the room started getting wavy and spinny, a doodly-doo doodly-doo doodly-do sound filled my ears…

And then I woke up in a cold sweat…it was all just a dream!

Like most parents, I want my kids to like what I like, and if I bribe them to play along, does that make me a bad parent?  If so, better get CPS on the phone, because a day of fishing with dad is likely to end with a stop for ice cream.  But a camping trip was going to need an extra special level of bribery.

As it turns out, Savannah did go on a camping trip with me two summers ago.  It was touch and go for a while when a seriously bad storm rolled through our campsite on the shores of a remote lake.  It really was bad, but we made it through it OK, just a little soggy.  Savannah still gets nervous thinking about that storm.  On our way home, we stopped in Royalton at one of Minnesota’s best known tourist traps and I let her pick something off their crowded shelves of treasures.

We drive by this store every time we go to Grandma’s house, and Savannah will generally remind Skylar of how she got to stop there, how great it was inside there, and don’t you wish you could go there.  So my bait to get them to go camping included a stop at Treasure City.  It so happens that there is a nice campground on the river right there, so plans were made, and on a fine July morning we pulled into the Sportsman’s Club Campground.

Since this was midweek, I wasn’t too surprised to find a lot of empty campsites, so we chose a site right on the river near the boat launch.  A nice breeze coming off the river assured the mosquitos would stay away, and we had our tent set up in ten minutes.

My camping gear consists of a tent, sleeping bag, a lantern, a folding chair, and an axe, so I’m faring a little better than the folks on “Naked and Afraid”.  I don’t have any camp cooking stuff, most of what cook in camp involves either aluminum foil or a stick.  Hot dogs are far from being a favorite food, but I like to keep it simple, less time cooking = less time cleaning = more time doing other stuff, like fishing or relaxing around a campfire.

So camp is set, boat is launched, and we’re now heading upriver.  This is a section of the Mississippi I had only been on once before, my memory of it was good fishing, but shallow and pretty treacherous for a prop boat.  The other time I was here I ended up having to walk the boat up through a particularly shallow stretch around some islands, and after studying the area on Google Earth I decided that a different channel would allow for easier passage.  Wrong.  I have often been in the predicament of trying to get through too-shallow water, when faced with this I will have my boat partner get all the way up to the bow—this will raise the transom up, giving a little more clearance.  On this trip my boat partners weigh about a hundred pounds between them, so not much help there.  Ended up having to walk the boat up though about 100 yards of knee deep water again, and dinged my prop a few times when I was trying to push my luck.  They did offer words of encouragement as I muled the Jon boat up through the shallow riffle.                   

Besides catching smallmouth, we have one other activity:  this section of the Mississippi is one of a few places on the entire earth where a special kind of stone called a “staurolite” is found.  These are also called “Fairy Stones” or “Fairy Crosses” and you can bet I talked these up to the girls who are all about anything that has to do with fairies.  A perfect fairy stone [I’ve only seen pictures of a perfect one] looks somewhat like a Maltese cross. It’s no secret where to find these stones, and as we approached the area I had learned about I could see there were several people in the area, stooped over and intently studying the gravel.  I’m no geologist, but I couldn’t imagine why the stones would only be found on one side of the river, and since we had a boat we went straight across from the publicized spot.  We found plenty of stones, but I think that finding a fairy stone that looks anything like an actual cross is pretty rare. Our best fairy stones are pretty boring looking at a glance, but it is interesting how they have a diamond cross-section. We also found some nice mica pieces. 

Once our rock hunt was over it was time to fish.  We alternated between drifting and anchoring, and while the fishing wasn’t red hot, the girls each got a few fish.  I had come up with a points system where various fish captured would equal dollars to spend at Treasure City.  This did cause argument over who got to watch the night crawler rod while anchored, as the crawler was likely to produce fish other than smallmouth.  We spent an hour anchored at one spot where smallies were aggressively feeding on damselflies.  I have seen this a few times before on my home water, and usually have a few damsel fly patterns on board just in case.  I took them out last week while consolidating fly boxes, so we just went through the tackle box, trying this and that.  The biggest smallmouth ate a crawler, but most memorable was one Skylar caught on a crankbait she picked out of her tackle box.  It was the first time she caught a bass on a lure where she made the cast and set the hook herself, and it while it wasn’t very big, I’ve never been more proud.

As the sun got a little lower, the action picked up, but the girls were a little spent.  I fished some likely looking shorelines myself and put on a mini-clinic on how to catch smallies on soft plastics—caught about 5 fish and missed a few others before we had drifted back to camp.

When we got back to the ramp we met a gal who was about 3 weeks into a Lake Itasca to the Gulf of Mexico kayak trip.  She had the world’s smallest tent, but seemed to have everything she needed, including a pink flamingo for a mascot.  She looked just like someone I had met a few years ago doing the same thing, but when asked she replied “No one would do this twice!” A solar panel on the kayak kept her computer and phone charged.  The strange thing to me was that she is from California, and I didn’t get the vibe she had even been to Minnesota before.

Here she is just before I gave her a shove and on her way down stream

Our dinner that night was Easy Mac [turned out horrible, turns out you need a microwave for this kind of mac and cheese] and hot dogs.  I had foil and butter with in case a walleye or pike was foolish enough to end up in the boat, but our species this day included smallmouth bass, channel catfish, and redhorse sucker.  Skylar still can’t quite figure out why we eat some kinds of fish but not others.  After our nutritious dinner it was time for a Minnesota campfire classic– s’mores—I even ate one.  Finally the fire died down and it was time to turn in.  We soon found that a huge emergence of stoneflies was going on, and they were EVERYWHERE, including in the tent.  All of my explanations of how harmless they were fell on deaf ears, and the girls would not rest until all had met their demise by flip flop.  After my stories of sasquatches in these parts on the way up, it was decided that the safest place in the tent in the event of an attack would be in the middle.  Savannah [of course] claimed this spot for herself, and the girls watched a movie on their DVD player.  The night was uneventful, no sasquatches, no yetis, not even a woodchuck.

The following morning was the kind of morning we all hope for—a bit cool, but sunny and glorious in all ways.  The girls were delighted that I had hot chocolate fixins, so I made a batch and got the fire going again.  To keep the nutrition and chocolate theme going they had Cocoa Puffs for breakfast.  I made them wash the few dishes we had while I broke camp, and then it was time to get back on the water.  I backed the boat down to the ramp to let some water drain out, and a guy who was part of a party that had just launched a driftboat commented on how much water was coming out of my boat.  “Well this boat has seen a lot of use and yeah, it has a slow leak, and because of how I had it parked last night the water didn’t drain out yadda yadda…and it’s only a couple gallons yadda yadda…” was my response.  So I launch and tie up to the dock.  Then I notice that the driftboat that the three guys had just launched was about half full of water.  I pointed this out to the guy who had been so nice to point out how much water came out of my boat, and suggested he put the plug in.  Well it wasn’t his boat, it belonged to one of the guys doing the shuttle, and he didn’t know where the plug was, and the yeti cooler on the dock wasn’t going to be much help for bailing.  I had a spare drain plug, figured out where it went and grabbed a couple of buckets and we had it mostly bailed out in a few minutes.

By now, my girls were on the dock watching the show.  We all got aboard, shoved off and wished the guy good luck.  We headed off upriver to where we had caught fish the day before.  It was mostly a repeat of the day before, no crazy fast action, but enough to keep everyone interested.  They had a double header on at one point, the smallie Savannah had on was the biggest of the trip but it got away just as it got to the boat.  Skylar caught one that ate an errant cast that landed 5 five feet from the transom while we were anchored in pretty swift current.

Note the custom pink worm Beetle Spin thing we put together that it ate

I even broke out the fly rod and managed to get one on a craw pattern.

We were in the home stretch, maybe a half mile from the ramp.  The water was pretty clear, and I could see the bottom pretty well in five feet of water.  When the conditions are like this I enjoy drifting along, spotting different fish.  I was seeing a lot of fish that at first I thought were big redhorse, but I soon realized they were mostly catfish, and big ones at that.  There must have been 50 in one short section, most looked to be 5 to 10 lbs.  We were out of bait by this time, or we would have anchored up and exercised a few kitties.  Next time.

Back at the ramp I pulled the boat up on the gravel and told the girls they should make some casts just below the access, as I had spotted a couple smallies there the day before.  When I got to my vehicle, my buckets and drain plug were waiting for me, along with ten bucks—that was a nice gesture.  I pulled the boat out, and after I had it strapped down I went to check on the girls.  They were still casting, but hadn’t quite made it to the best spot, an area where there was a nice rock pile about 30 feet from shore.  I had a great vantage from up on the high bank, and when I walked just a bit downstream, sure enough, there was a nice smallie patrolling the rocks, on the hunt for a well-placed Beetle Spin.  I was just about to call the girls to the area when I spotted another fish out there—a muskie!  Looked to be in the low 30” range, and would be sure provide a large amount of excitement if it was at the end of a little girl’s line.  I had them take turns casting at it, they tried a Rapala and a wacky worm, but no luck, that muskie was having none of it and left for calmer waters.  Then Skylar had a smallie nose right up to her wacky worm, I said “leave it…leave it…now give it a little twitch!” and she proceeded to jerk it about 4 feet, and Mr. Smallmouth went the same direction the muskie went.

You can’t see it, but there is a muskie 30 feet in front of Skylar

So now we were left with only one more thing to do—the promised stop at Treasure City.  With all their fish they had each accrued $12 to spend, and they managed to spend most of it on knick-knacks.  If you’ve never been there, it really does deserve a stop, the amount of crap they have crammed in there is impressive. Less than two hours later we were home again, already making plans for next year.

Although the Minnesota fishing opener is a tradition long held sacred by many Minnesota anglers, for a variety of reasons I often skip it. I don’t skip fishing, of course, but usually in May I have North Shore steelhead to chase, bass season is open in Wisconsin, and this is just a magical time to be on a trout stream as the woods green up, the birds carry on with their birdy debates, and the trout rise freely. This year would be different. Word came out through social media this winter that additional “fishing hosts” were needed for this year’s “Governor’s Opener” to be held on famous Gull Lake at Nisswa.  Being someone who is often overly confident of his ability to fill the boat with fish in any situation, I offered up my services.  What the heck, I have lived in Nisswa before, and I’ve fished on Gull Lake a number of times.  [I realized when I got to the lake that hadn’t been there in at least 10 years, and couldn’t remember if I had ever actually caught a walleye there….]

Thursday evening found me at the first meeting for all of us “Fishing Hosts”.  There were some nice, short speeches, and a great meal.  I couldn’t believe how many people I didn’t know there, lots of unfamiliar faces.  Had fun talking to a few guys, and we all got a pile of schwag for our efforts [jacket, hat, net, tackle bag, cooler, metal fish ruler, lots more…].The night went well, we all got the scoop on how Saturday was to go down. They even had us all sign some giant Rapalas that will be given as gifts to various high ranking officials.

Later, I met up with an old friend who lives in Brainerd.  Jim and I go way, back and he took Friday off from work to fish with me.  Friday was miserable weather, 40 degrees and rain.  We poked around on Gull, just scanning the sonar, looking for likely spots, looking for any sign of life.  The 43 degree water wasn’t revealing any secrets, so we to some smaller attached lakes on the hunt for crappies.  We found one nice pocket that had some crappies in it, and found a lot of likely looking spots that had nothing.  At least I had something to go by for Saturday, I wasn’t sure which of the media dignitaries would be in my boat, but I hoped they would be up for catching some crappies [as well as pike and bass that were more abundant than the crappies].

I met up with my guest that evening, Randy Quitney.  He is a radio personality from Litchfield, lucky for me he is very easy going and personable, and we made arrangements for me to pick him up at the dock at 8 am the next morning.  I was up long before dawn, as I wanted to be sure to have the boat launched before the crowds.  A quick stop at a local convenience store would allow me to get gas, coffee and bait in one fell swoop.  No such luck, the store I had picked didn’t open its doors until 5:30, but at least I could buy gas.  Up the road I went, I’ll get bait and coffee at the bait shop on 371.  Bait? – yes. Coffee? – yesterday’s was still in the pot.  Alright, one more stop at another convenience store and I had my coffee. 

Finally, I had the boat in the water, just as the sun was peeking through the trees.  A pretty good crowd was already fishing in the narrows on the upper end of Gull, but I had another spot in mind though.  I planned on fishing for an hour before I picked up Randy to try and locate some fish.  The spot I had in mind must be good, as there were already two boats on it.  Soon a few more joined in.  I thoroughly fished a nice weed edge without a bite, and decided to pick Randy up early.  I called him at 7:40, and five minutes later he stepped into my boat from the dock at Grand View Lodge, which was the headquarters for this event.  I should point out that this was a most spectacularly beautiful morning, calm and sunny, maybe 50 degrees already.  By the time we got back to my “hotspot”, there were over 30 boats working this piece of structure. I at least felt good that I had picked what must be a good spot some of the time. We tried a couple of areas on this bar, didn’t get a bite, didn’t mark a fish, and didn’t see anyone else catch a fish.  So it was off to crappie land.  We made our way through the phalanx of boats in the narrows [there were so many in spots that navigating through was actually tricky] and on to the upper lakes. 

We came into a narrow section with even depth, about 6 feet.  There are many ways to catch fish, and all of them always involve having a line in the water, so I cast a minnow bait behind the boat and handed the rod off to Randy.  I kept my speed as slow as the motor would allow, and proceeded along.

[If I were a REAL outdoor writer, that would have read…Utilizing my Marcum LX-7 locator, I was able to identify the area was prime for early season walleye.  I reached in to the rod locker of my G3 172C Anger, and pulled out a custom built St Croix rod with a Shimano Curado Reel secured in the Fuji reel seat.  The 10 lb. Berkley Trilene XT monofilament flowed smoothly off the reel as I cast the #11 Perch Pattern Rapala Husky Jerk into my boat’s gentle wake.  I handed the rod to my guest and he held the cork grips firmly, watching the pulsing rod tip as he awaited the inevitable strike.  I adjusted the throttle and trim on the purring Yamaha 115 until I had the perfect trolling speed dialed in…]

Anyway, it wasn’t long before a fish hit, and after a brief but spirited battle, I was as surprised as anyone to look at the fine walleye now thrashing in my net! It looks small in the picture, but Randy is 6 foot 4.  After being around at least a hundred boats this was only the second fish we had seen caught.  “Mission accomplished”, I thought.  Anything from here on out would just be a bonus, as Randy told me that he had not captured a walleye at last year’s opener in Park Rapids. 

Once I got us to the crappie hole, I realized that this too must be a great spot, as there were several other boats packed into a fairly small area.  I waited for one boat to head down and pulled into where they had just been.  The day before I had found some nice crappies in about five feet of water, hanging around old lily pad roots.  There were still a few around, and we got a couple in short order.  None of the other boats caught anything while we were there, I would have thought with the sun warming the water into the low 50’s that this bite would have really picked up.  We tried one more crappie spot and didn’t get a bite, although the wildlife viewing was great: Two trumpeter swans flew overhead, and then a patient osprey that kept hovering over a particular area finally showed us how it was done as he crash landed into the lake 50 feet away and then flew off with a foot long bass in his talons.  Yes, the osprey had large talons, and no I don’t think he realized bass season was not open yet.

Randy needed to be back at Grand View Lodge by Noon, so that ended our angling session.  The crowds in the narrows were even bigger, so someone must have caught something. At Grand View, there was a big lunch going on, with fried fish and walleye chowder and all other fixings.  I ate lunch with Randy and his wife, and wished them well.  When I wore a younger man’s clothes, my next move would have been to head right back out to the lake and try to hunt up a few more fish.  Instead, it was time to call the wife and tell her I was putting the boat on the trailer and that I would be home in few hours.

It was a fun experience being a part of the Governor’s Opener, glad to have been a part of this great Minnesota tradition, and I hope I get the chance to participate in again.  Maybe one day there will be a Governor’s Bass Opener—then some fish will be caught!

“Nice fish!” Gunnar yelled from the back of the boat.  I  looked back to see a nice sized muskie closely tracking his spinnerbait.  “Why is he swimming sideways?” Gunnar asked as he went into a classic Gunnar figure -8 [too much line out, moving the lure too slowly (I never think anyone does it right though {I should talk, I can’t remember the last time I got one to eat on a figure – 8!})].  It was true, the muskie was tracking the lure off to the side instead of right behind it.  “I bet that fish only has one eye!” I said as I watched the curious behavior. Around one time on a figure-eight, and the around the back of the boat, the fish kept its left eye just inches from the lure. Eventually the fish grew weary of Gunnar’s boatside antics and sank back into the depth of the Lower Two Fish Hole.

It was another great day chasing river muskies. The stars had aligned perfectly for a mid-week outing, and Gunnar was as pumped as I was to get after them, as he was 20 minutes early getting to my house.  Last minute tackle wrangling ensued, but soon we were on our way.  When we arrived at the boat landing early that morning, we were greeted by water that was a little higher than I had expected.  Mind you, it was now at the PERFECT level, but it had jumped almost a foot overnight, and when combined with dropping water temps I was a little concerned that the fish might be in a funk.  My worries were unfounded though, as our first stop at the Big Cottonwood Hole had a hot fish behind my bait right away.  It’s always great to move a fish right away.

We had moved a couple of other fish in other spots before Gunnar’s weird follow, so things were looking promising.  After that follow, we fished down to the bottom of the hole.  I changed it up, and put on a Bulldog.  Bulldogs are a wildly popular muskie lure, but I rarely use one, and had never actually caught a muskie on one.  Working our way back up along the deep current seam, I pitched the Bulldog up and across, and allowed it to sink into the ten foot depths of the hole before beginning my retrieve.  They really look great in the water, and it is hard to imagine how a fish could resist one. Right when we got back to the spot where the unusual following fish had been sighted, my Bulldog got SLAMMED.  After a normal muskie battle–brief but spirited, I had the fish firmly by the gill cover.  A quick check of the fish’s face revealed that my theory was true–the fish’s right eye was glazed over.  I was glad the fish was still able to feed, and got it back in the river after a quick photo.  The fish doused me with a tail splash as it took off, giving me confidence that the fish was  none the worse for wear.   I hope someday One Eyed Willie and I will meet again.

We raised a couple more that day, and even came back to the follows with the Bulldog, which I was now sure was a sure-fire tactic.  It wasn’t to be, and the ran was increasing by the minute.  Our plans to end the day at a spot near the access was foiled by shore bound anglers huddled under an umbrella while they waited for a bite.  I’m not about to fish from my boat in front of shore bound anglers so we put it on the trailer.

Only one fish today, but anytime you are in the “plus” column at the end of a day of muskie fishing it was a good day!

Anyone thinking of trying for Steelhead on the North Shore, it will be good for at least another week.  Most years the peak is late April-early May, but this year the rivers didn’t even start flowing until around May 1.

Anyone with specifics asfar as river access points, or tackle/rigging tips, please drop me an email