A hometown newspaper with a local office, local owners & lots of local news
A hometown newspaper with a local office, local owners & lots of local news
Sorted by date Results 26 - 50 of 75
There is no way he could have imagined my world, and I find it difficult to imagine his. We are separated by a century or more: generations of Bakers have come and gone. Nothing directly connects us, except for the gun cradled across my lap, 12 feet up a birch tree. He was my grandpa's grandpa; I know very little about him, and his name even escapes me at the moment. That saddens me. I hope my great-great-grandson will know my name - know a little something about what made me tick. The morning...
The four-day MEA weekend is a Minnesota tradition. A holiday without the stress and busy schedule of an actual holiday. By the time everyone rolled out of bed Thursday morning, I was heavily gauging interest in a day trip. Two of my boys took the bait. Joseph, David and I loaded up and headed west. By mid-morning, we pulled into the market at Malmo on the northeast side of Mille Lacs. I topped off the gas tank in the Big Blue Lund as Joseph and David ran inside to gather armfuls of sugar- and...
Since the start of the 2019 fishing season on the St. Louis River in May, I’ve been fortunate enough to spend roughly 75 days on the streams, rivers, reservoirs and lakes in the region. I’ve strived to continue to grow as an angler, constantly pushing myself to break down new water and add different techniques to my arsenal. I’ve learned a tremendous amount about the fish I love to chase and the multitude of ways to catch them. Reflecting on the open water season, I can conclude one thing with...
I had my article for this week almost completely written when I got a short and simple text from my oldest brother, Bob, on Saturday night. His wife Julie had boated a monster muskie. Exciting, for sure, but better yet, the fish was good enough to win the Fortune Bay Resort Casino muskie tournament on Lake Vermilion. I scrapped my article, realizing their story was better than mine. Remembering the weather kept me off the water on Saturday, I could only imagine the conditions farther north on...
I was heading back down the Gunflint Trail from a full day of guiding on Lake Saganaga, or Big Sag as the locals refer to it. I had a young couple from the Cities who were excited about the cooler of fresh walleyes, bass, and lake trout collected from the rootbeer-stained water of Sag. But they both hoped to end their day laying eyes on their first moose. Somedays I would get lucky and a cow or calf would linger in the moose pond adjacent to the guides' landing on the Sag corridor. Always a...
I stood parallel to the Cloquet goal line cheering on the hometown Lumberjacks football team Friday night under the lights of Bromberg Field. The moon struggled to break through the thick white clouds intermixed with the blue smoke rolling off the B&B wagon. It finally busted free over the visitor's goalposts. I noted the time: 8:30 p.m. on the nose. The Harvest Moon. It only rolls around once a year, so I knew I needed to take full advantage of its presence. (For the record, the Lumberjacks...
My phone rang just late enough to make me nervous that something was wrong. I was right. My brother, Bruce, had fallen from his deer stand. He was in the emergency room. My heart raced. My mind whirled. I thought about how high he hangs his stands. Always has. I recalled the aspen tree above Gunflint Lake he told me to sit in one morning. In the darkness, I remember staring up at the metal platform of his portable stand 30-some feet in the air. Small screw-in steps alternated on the path of...
Back to reality. The Baker household held tightly onto summer for as long as possible. But with two kids in middle school, one in high school, another off to college, and both parents teaching, responsibilities have firmly taken over. Looking back, we spent a good chunk of the summer pursuing walleye gold, yet we wrapped up the season chasing silver. Crappies have started their fall transition. A couple of weeks ago they were loosely packed in small pods. Our trips over the last couple of days...
I have a little secret my wife and kids already know. Sometimes, I have no idea what I'm doing. The last couple of weeks on the water, I've been making it up as I go. Some trips have worked out, others have bombed. The only way to grow as an angler is to stretch yourself, and I've grown comfortable being uncomfortable. Ten days ago my brother Bruce and I ventured miles offshore onto Lake Superior in pursuit of roaming schools of walleyes. Chasing walleyes is not new to us. But piecing together...
My wife, Jamie, loves to put her fall decorations out at the first sign of autumn. A couple of cold mornings triggers her to journey to the recesses of our basement in search of her stash of scarecrows and pumpkins, just as the first snow of the year signals all her snowmen to report for duty. Noticeably missing in her bin this year was a bundle of cattails we’ve had for years. Our black lab, Mogli, ripped them to shreds at the height of his “puppy chews everything phase” last September. I kno...
We loaded the Suburban with most of the Baker crew plus an omnipresent extra child, and headed north. The big blue Lund stared back at us in confusion as we pulled away — it would remain unhitched for the day. Our destination was the Hibbing baseball field to support Carsen Psyck, Zachary Tyman, and Joseph Baker as they represented Cloquet in the VFW All-Star game Sunday afternoon. Tucked into the massive wooden bleachers of Al Nyberg field, I had time to reflect on summers of long ago playing o...
The fog rolled across the surface of the water as we slid Keith Nelson's Alumacraft into the coffee-colored waters of Big Sandy Lake. I relegated myself to the back deck of his boat. I was here to learn - catching fish would be a bonus. Today, I would be front and center of Nelson's master class on dissecting manmade structure in pursuit of slap crappies. "I've been fishing these docks for over 20 years," Nelson said with confidence as he punched down on his 175 Yahama outboard. As we pulled...
Stretching out in front of us, dozens of boats jostled for position, awaiting blastoff. My oldest son, Joseph, and I tucked into the back of the pack; based on the 200-300 horsepower motors surrounding us, we weren't going to beat anyone to our fishing grounds. It was Saturday morning and we were competing in the Twin Ports Walleye Association walleye tournament on Fish Lake. Our anticipation built as the minutes ticked by. Our planning and preparation would soon be put to the test. Tournament...
Over the years I've fished them all. Collectively referred to as the "big four" reservoirs north of Duluth, they include Wild Rice, Fish, Island and Boulder. They all have their own personalities, and they fish a little differently, but collectively they are pumping out a lot of fish this summer. Honestly, I stumbled onto this bite. The main goal was to escape the heat. This past weekend, I shuttled boatloads of our own kids, neighborhood kids, and nieces and nephews, along with their parents to...
The freshly fried walleyes had barely hit the cake pan when they were scooped up by the masses gathered around our picnic table. A Baker fish fry was in full swing. In all, 25 friends and family lined our yard, plates in hand, ready to pounce each time I made an appearance with a basket of fish. Before the last batch was done frying, new fishing plans were in the works. My cousin, Ben Nynas of Mahtowa, along with his guest, John Kerr from Louisiana and I would head over to Mille Lacs later in...
The week started with a real emergency around the Baker household. Phoenix, our resident gecko, was out of food. Normally, we would run to Duluth and pick him up some crickets or tasty mealworms. It was late into the evening before we figured out he needed a fresh supply of protein. The last light of day had just faded when I jumped into the Suburban. I wasn’t too thrilled with this mission, but somewhere, way down the list of parental and husbandly duties, was making sure the gecko was fed. M...
Our anchor tethered us to the rocks below. The current ripped underneath our bow and poured out the backside of the Lund. I threaded half a crawler onto my orange jig and plopped it over the transom. The jig tumbled away quickly in the rapids. Lifting my rod tip to the sky, I could feel it ticking and tumbling through the riprap below. The last dozen times the jig and crawler made the journey ended the same way: in the mouth of a walleye. On cue, I felt the familiar thunk of a bite. I snapped...
I half-walked, half-skipped to my truck. I had just polished off my second week of teaching summer school. Much like the fish I’ve been chasing, I’m transitioning to my summer pattern. In the last two weeks, I’ve fished the St. Louis River, Island, Chub, Big, Pike, Sturgeon, Pelican, Gunflint, and Saganaga. What I’ve gathered, besides filets, is that fish are transitioning from their spring locations and patterns to their summer haunts. The crappies are almost all past spawn. I’m no longer co...
Jamie and Hannah are long gone. Barcelona or maybe Madrid by now? David has been shipped off to Gunflint for some one-on-one time with Gramma and Grampa. It is mid-morning and the Baker crew still at home have yet to shape the day. It is cold and windy and wet. The grass that should have been cut in the last couple of days will have to wait. I check the radar and the rest of the day doesn’t shake out much better. Hmmm. I notice further north, all looks good. Joseph, Joshua and I come to a quick...
The summer after my sophomore year of high school I packed up and headed north. I would spend my summer break along the south shore of Gunflint lake as a “dock boy” for the Kerfoot family at Gunflint Lodge. I didn’t know exactly what I had signed up for, but I would figure it out on the fly. It didn’t take me long to learn my job description was “whatever needed to be done.” Most days I gassed up boats for guests and worked the waterfront. Weed whipping, mowing and raking were big parts of my...
Bass, pike, muskies, walleyes, crappies, bluegills, and perch all spend a good portion of the early summer period buried in the weeds. Arguably, more game fish congregate in emerging weed beds than in any other type of structure this time of year. Paradoxically, these same weed beds are often devoid of fishing pressure. Weeds can be intimidating. It often it takes a specialized approach to pick fish from the jungle. I break down weed fishing into five approaches. The easiest in the spring and...
The sun had just dipped below the horizon when my rod doubled over. For the last half hour before sunset, we had battled several northern pike, but instinctively I knew this was our first walleye. White-tipped fins emerged from the black water below and my suspicions were confirmed. Joseph slid our net under the fish and we boxed our first keeper. Repeating the same trolling path we added several more walleyes as darkness enveloped us. As is often the case with night fishing, we had the lake to...
Jamie startled me awake in the middle of the night. She nonchalantly informed me, “You have something in your trap.” We peered shoulder-to-shoulder into the backyard. The moon illuminated a rectangular silhouette just off the back steps. Sure enough, the live trap I had set was tripped. The trap door was slammed shut, and the skunk we had been after for weeks was locked inside. Great, now what? Admittedly, I hadn’t played the scenario completely through. When we decided the skunk had to go, n...
Minnesota fishing opener morning, my son Joseph and I arrived at Boy Scout Landing on the St. Louis River just past 5 a.m. The lower parking lot was already packed. We pulled in and found ourselves stacked a dozen rigs from the landing. We unbuckled our transom straps. Pulled forward one spot. Lifted the Honda 90 off the transom saver. Crept forward two spots. Fired up the graph. Nobody moved. Put the boat plug in. Slid forward one more spot. Grabbed the rest of our gear, loaded the boat and...
If you want peace and quiet, wait till Monday. Minnesota’s fishing opener congregates more fishermen per square acre than any other time of year on productive post-spawn walleye locations throughout the state. Anglers often pack so tightly that with a little coordination and agility you could jump from boat to boat. Over the years I’ve targeted other species or fished smaller bodies of water to avoid the masses. Recently I’ve grown to embrace the chaos and enjoy the spectacle, knowing opene...
