The moon: It pulls us

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 math really doesn’t add up — driving three hours round-trip to get less than four hours of trolling in, but I’ve never been fantastic at math. Besides, the full moon makes us do crazy things.

We launch out of Liberty Beach landing and head south, round Big Point, and I throttle my 90 Honda tiller down to trolling speed. The moon pulls me and tonight it tugs on me to troll cranks. Crankbait style, size, and color selection create a puzzle that needs to be solved nightly. Rarely will I soak a lure more than a half-hour before I switch it out. Efficiently the three of us spread our initial offering. We run a single board and two flat-lines. The board pulls the bait out away from the boat, and flat-lines are fished directly behind our propwash.

Our starting point will be large crankbaits. The two flat-lines we send back 120 feet, well away from the commotion of our boat. We run our board on a much shorter lead, 50-60 feet back, but 100 feet out to the port side. David chooses a #14 crawdad-colored Husky Jerk. Joseph runs the same bait, but in a clown pattern. I dig through my options and settle on a Salmo Sting in firetiger.

We bounce around in the waves of late afternoon. I checked and rechecked the Weather Channel app all day. Wind and waves were supposed to be minimal, dying down as the day progressed. As is often the case, Mille Lacs works as a force multiplier, gathering any available wind and increasing its impact exponentially as it crosses the expanse. We find ourselves rocking and rolling on our first trolling pass. David, age 13, has already decided he needs to rest up for the long evening ahead. He is tucked into the bow, partially protected from the wind. His rod is settled into the rod holder nearest to me, and it is bouncing. His crank finds bottom in 5-6 feet of water, and it rhythmically darts and shimmies its way through the rip rap below. On cue it doubles over. Fish on! I instinctively grab the rod, and before I turn to find him, David is there at my side. The battle is on.

When hooked in skinny water, big fish will almost always head for deep water. This particular fish makes a 90-degree turn and heads straight for the abyss of Mille Lacs, aptly nicknamed No Man’s Land. I know immediately this is a big predator,

although smallmouth bass, northern pike, muskie, or walleye are all still valid options. David works the fish well, reeling when it gives him some slack, and letting the rod bear the burden on long runs away from the boat. The drag allows his line to peel off smoothly as the fish begins to lose ground. After a well-fought battle, I slip the landing net under the thick walleye. It tapes out at just over 28 inches and Joseph and I are able to get some nice pictures. David’s smile seemingly measures half the length of his trophy. We slide the walleye back into the 44-degree water, and she tears off, no worse for the wear. We are just a few minutes into our trip, and the entire night is already made for me. It doesn’t matter if another fish comes to the net; the three of us have taken the time, left our warm couch at home, and made a memory.

The whitecaps wear themselves out over the next hour. By dusk, the lake has calmed down. To the west the sun dips low in the horizon, illuminating the water in array of golds, pinks and purples. To the east, the Hunter’s Moon is breaking away from the horizon.

We start to put a pattern together as darkness envelops us. Once again, it’s David who shows us how it’s done. I don’t know what it is about this child of mine, but I do believe he could catch a fish in an outhouse. He has a habit of switching lures every couple of minutes and he has settled on a chrome and orange Salmo Sting. He has also put a handful of plump walleyes into the boat in quick succession. Joseph and I take inventory of our cranks and try to match David’s offering. On this calm and cool night, the crankbait puzzle has been solved. Anything with a chrome or reflective body is gathering the rays of the moon and beckoning walleyes from afar.

We enjoy our time as fish keep us busy on each pass. We’ve stolen an October night that feels more like early June. The Beaver Moon is Nov. 23 and I have a feeling it will be pulling us back, ice or no ice, trying to steal one more memory.

Bret Baker is a lifetime resident of Cloquet. He is a proud husband, father, educator, and outdoorsman. Bret began guiding fishing trips when he was 16 years old. Today, in his 40s, his passion is to introduce people to the tremendous outdoor adventures available in our region.