Time to 'pout'

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 fish as a family. A year ago we looped around St. Louis, Mo. to Mammoth Caves in Kentucky to Nashville, Tenn. The year prior we camped along the White River in northern Arkansas and chased chunky brown and rainbow trout.

Alas, travel and fishing plans we were excited about for months were no longer viable options. I would have to live spring break vicariously through the adventures of others.

On cue, Joseph bailed on me. The lake trout, walleye, and eelpout season were still up and running along the Canadian border. As ice began to darken along the shorelines in Carlton County, he tagged along with his cousin, Jaret, as they left Cloquet in their rearview mirror and headed “up north” for the weekend.

The first report came in Saturday around noon. “I’ve got some lake trout fillets for Mom,” Joseph proudly relayed. A trout for the grill is always appreciated in the Baker household.

The real adventure would come later that evening when they struck out into the darkness targeting eelpout, aka pout, aka burbot. Pout have garnered a lot of press the last decade.

Once an overlooked opportunity, more and more anglers are turning their attention to these scrappy fighters during ice season. And for good reason. Eelpout are tremendous table fare, and once located tend to be highly aggressive.

Eelpout are elusive for much of the year. Part of their mystery is angler indifference during the summer months.

However, occurring under the ice mid-winter into early spring, the eelpout spawn is the best time to intercept pout repeating a predictable pattern. In the north country, typical spawning grounds consist of gravel or sand humps that top off in 10-25 feet of water.

The main event occurs under the cover of darkness. Anglers should arrive as the sun is setting and drill a series of holes from the top of the reef descending along the break into deeper water.

As darkness falls, the pout will work their way up to the highest spot on the structure.

If the pout are there, they will bite. Favorite lures are simple. Jigs or spoons that can be “charged” with light and “glow” in the darkness reign supreme. Tip these offerings with a chunk of minnow and lower them to bottom. Bang the bottom, kicking up some sediment or clank against the rocks, lift up and hover. Pout on. Repeat.

If you’re not getting bit, the pout aren’t there. If you’ve landed on the mother lode, 50 to 100 pout or more is not uncommon.

As I write this, I have trout grilling on the Big Green Egg and, thanks to Joseph and Jaret, a gallon-bagful of pout fillets waiting to prepared. They can be cooked in a variety of ways. We prefer to boil them in 7UP or steamed on the grill in a tinfoil boat of butter. Commonly referred to as “poor man’s lobster,” the pout are delicious.

Of course I’m excited Joseph had the opportunity to enjoy spring break, get out of town, and get some fishing in. He took full advantage of the chance to pile up some pout.

All I can manage is to “pout” about the Suburban’s transmission and being stuck at home.

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.