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
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Johnny Cash startled me awake. My eyes tried to adjust to the ray of light pouring onto the ceiling. Sometime during the night, my phone had fallen halfway under the bed, adding to my confusion. "I bet there's rich folks eatin' in a fancy dining car ...." My mind searched for order and meaning. "They're probably drinkin' coffee and smokin' big cigars ...." My hands fumbled to silence Mr. Cash. 3:55 in the morning. Late April. "But I know I had it comin' I know I can't be free." In an instant,...
A couple of weeks ago my oldest son Joseph passed his driver’s test. Elated, he took his first officially licensed cruise through Cloquet. Atop the bridge over the St. Louis River, our Suburban’s transmission decided it had had enough, leaving our new driver unceremoniously stranded on the side of Highway 33. As we all know, these types of annoyances just happen. This particular breakdown occurred heading into our spring break. Over the years, spring break has provided us time to travel and fis...
A couple of times a week I would drop down the ridge behind my childhood home into the lowlands that led to Big Otter Creek. Having made the journey dozens of times with my older brothers, I was confident in my footsteps. Alone now, each trip took a slightly different route. Would I drop into the slop and plow a straight line toward the deep bend where the two tall pines shadowed the pool? Would I follow the neighbor’s fence to where it crossed the creek at a set of frothy rapids? There was n...
My dad is full of old sayings he keeps on hand, waiting to disperse them at opportune times. “Push hard, comes easy,” is one of my all-time favorites. Growing up, he would offer these subtle words of wisdom when we had a difficult chore or heavy lifting that called upon our collective manpower. His words have stuck with me. No matter if I’m honing my lesson or fishing plans, my father’s advice has served me well. Taking my own kids fishing is a perfect example. They will only see the end res...
The last couple of weeks I’ve detailed techniques that shape the way I approach most days on the water. Power-corking and lead-core trolling are fantastic tools that I’ve added to my arsenal — both serve me well at specific times and places. I don’t power-cork every day, and lead-core trolling shines only under certain circumstances; a third technique I use almost every time I hit the water is casting reaction-style baits. Over the years, subtle approaches like Lindy rigging and vertica...
Last week I detailed the “nuts and bolts” of power-corking. Power-corking shines when fish are concentrated on a specific structure. When fish are randomly spread out across the expanse, it’s time to break out the lead-core trolling rods. The lead-core technique starts with the line itself. Lead-core is a Dacron or braid coated line with lead at its “core” or center. Instead of relying on snap-weights, sinkers, or the natural dive curve of a crankbait, the lead-core itself controls lure depth. E...
It’s an easy trap to fall into: fishing the same body of water, same time of year, same location, same tactic, year in and year out. Admittedly, the draw of familiarity is a strong one. I could tell you exactly where I will crappie fish on Memorial Day this spring, or what nights around the June full moon I will troll post-spawn walleyes. However, the one constant in fishing is change. To be successful year in and year out, you must not fall into the trap of only fishing memories — fle...
The regulations, they are a-changin' .... Starting March 1, on the Rainy River and Fourmile Bay of Lake of the Woods, a catch-and-release season will be in effect until April 14. This will discourage some anglers from making the long trek north. But despite the new regs, my annual Rainy River spring walleye trip will continue as planned. Two things draw me north. One is just to get the boat in the water. In the dead of winter, I catch myself staring out my kitchen window at my Lund. It stares...
As I drive up London Road I have one goal in mind: to see for myself the villages of fishermen that have ventured gingerly out onto Lake Superior’s rare ice. My social media feed has been taken over by videos of high fives and big fish — all caught within a few miles of my truck. Several black, blue, and red shacks appear just off 21st Avenue as I drive past Marine General in East Duluth. A couple dozen more groups can be seen off the mouth of the Lester, just a couple of miles farther. The mas...
It's officially winter, now that long weeks of frigid temps have finally set up the ice for safe travel on inland lakes. And, as truck travel begins, we enter one of the most predictable bites of the year: the basin crappie bite. The basin is loosely defined as the deepest part of any given lake. In our area that may vary between 10 feet of water and 50-plus feet of water. Most basins I concentrate on bottom out in the 20-to-30-foot range. Most local lakes set up well for this bite. Even...
I know exactly where I was 20 years ago, pretty darn close to the day. I was standing on the ice in front of our family cabin at Birch Lake, Grand Marais, auger in hand. Jamie was there also; she was being a good sport about braving the cold and chasing some rainbow trout. Little did she know the plump trout below our feet were not my main target. I fired up the gas auger and pushed hard into its rotating blades. I quickly punched through eight inches as the auger broke through the underside of...
They call it ice trolling: augering a couple hundred holes across a frozen lake. The thought is to constantly hop hole-to-hole trying to find active fish. In reality, making Swiss cheese of an icy expanse can’t replace 10 minutes of open-water trolling as far as covering productive water. However, winter angling offers one advantage over summer: in Minnesota, you can use two lines per angler, allowing the old one-two punch for winter success. For each target species the logistics are a little d...
Once in a while I'm forced to come clean. Recently, with one eyebrow raised in curiosity, the love of my life casually asked, "Why is there a disco ball motor in the Amazon cart?" It's moments like this I realize, I'm busted. However, the truth will set me free. I have a plan, and although she will listen intently, I know, deep down, she will never understand the ideas that float through this brain of mine. The plan is a solution to a problem it took me years to realize I was having. I will...
Take one of those math compasses we all enjoyed so much in school and center its unnecessarily sharp point on a map of downtown Cloquet. Stretch out its metallic arm and locate someplace, anyplace, 175 miles away. From there draw a perfect circle. This is my home range. This is where I live, work, hunt, and fish. If you plopped that same compass down anywhere else in the United States, you may find better hunting ground, but you would be hard-pressed to find the quality of outdoor opportunities...
Most every Friday as I arrive home from work, the kids pepper me with requests. Inevitably the questions fall along a common theme. "Can so-and-so come over?" "Can we go do A, B, or C with them?" Or the all-time favorite, "Can (insert friend's name) spend the night?" This Friday I turned the tables on my unsuspecting wife. "Jamie, can I go play with Mr. Horvat in the morning?" Of course it was worded a lot manlier, but that was the basic question. Translated to the outdoorsman's wife: I'm going...
I stood swaying back and forth in the parking lot of PJ’s Little Store, half asleep on my feet, after a particularly long overnight shift. It was early December, and my brother Bruce was slated to pick me up. I wasn’t going to let a little sleep deprivation get in the way of our plans. We headed south past Moose Lake. Our mission: chuck the spear at a few pike. We parked the truck along a gravel road near the water’s edge. Frozen cattails, suspended in winter’s grip, welcomed our arrival...
My Christmas wish is not for more stuff. If I'm honest, I have enough rods, reels, and tackle to last me until the Vikings win the Super Bowl. What I really want is what I already have: My wife, my family, my job along with the time and freedom to experience new things. This past year I've had the chance to fish new waters and hunt new ground. The family and I also headed south over spring break and explored new territory between St. Louis and Nashville. When I think back, it's always travel...
My wife will no doubt agree that I’m full of great ideas. On this particular November Sunday I’ve decided I should chase some walleyes. That’s not the great idea — it gets better. I have sold myself on the idea of fishing a new stretch of water and, just to be different, I will be packing my blaze orange and deer rifle. After consulting the onXhunt app on my phone, I’ve identified a section of river that meets the criteria I’ve laid out in my head. It needs to have a decent boat landing, an...
I usually just buy my wife something I want for Christmas. If Santa happens to bring her a new trolling rod or shotgun that I can put to good use, all the better. With Christmas quickly approaching, and it clearly understood I have no idea what women want, I’ve decided to put together this gift buying guide for all the ladies looking for the perfect gift for their outdoorsman. Under $25 Best bet, gift card. B&B or Outdoor Advantage. The holiday spirit comes alive with meat sticks or a fistful o...
I welcomed the early morning help from my oldest brother Bob in preparing my own shore lunch pack. It was my first day as a fishing guide, and I had enough to worry about. A guide’s shore lunch pack is as individual as each guide. Some are heavy packers, prepared to cook a seven-course meal to impress guests. The rest are light packers, relying on their fishing skills to make the day memorable. I had no interest in becoming a shore lunch chef — I would be a light packer, come hell or high wat...
We are back to the beginning - 175 days later. Today is the Minnesota rifle opener, and the deer are there, but relegated to the back of my mind. The walleyes, as they often do, have won the battle for my time. The boys and I started the open water season on the St. Louis River upstream of Boy Scout Landing. Today, nearly seven months later, we will wrap up our open water season on this same stretch. We pull into the landing mid-morning; the parking lot is surprisingly full. The docks have been...
The moon is full, pulling us like the tide. We really have no business heading over to Mille Lacs today. The Vikings just wrapped up another game and the afternoon is slipping away. It is the last full week of October, and time is tight. I run the math in my head, as I have done all day. Leave at 4:15 p.m., get to the landing by 5:45, trolling by 6 p.m. Due to special regulations, we needed to be off the water by 10 p.m., meaning, in reality, we needed to be back to the boat ramp by 9:45 p.m....
The closest I ever came to a divorce was the afternoon I first made venison brats. Admittedly, it was a rush job. I harvested my deer in the early morning, dragged him to a nearby trail, waited for the hour that made it legal to run my wheeler, and hauled him out of the woods. I drove him home, hung him, skun him, quartered him in quick fashion. From there the real work began. Everything about processing a deer is a ritual: a personal one, one that comes back to you the moment you sharpen your k...
I'm not sure how I convinced my boys, David and Joseph, to crawl out of bed this morning. The world was still dark and a light rain fell: perfect weather for duck hunting. However, late fall crappies and bluegills would be the target of our collective efforts. Just a week ago the three of us made this same trip. It was a disaster. Weather was nasty, the wind was brutal, and fishing was worse. We took our beating in stride; today was marked for redemption. In reality, you can't control all the...
