PINE KNOT OUTDOORS: Change it up and find some fish

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.

The three of us rendezvoused in the early morning at TJ’s Country Corner in Mahtowa. Based on the projected wind for the day, I decided we would cut across the top of the lake and launch out of the south Garrison landing. We swung into Garrison Sports and added a pound of leeches and a few dozen crawlers to our collection of rods and reels and tackle.

We slid the big blue Lund off the trailer and into the sweltering heat of the morning. The wind would not blow as projected. Light and variable from the southwest turned into nonexistent and dead flat calm across the great expanse of the lake.

My main goal was to put some walleyes in the boat. Even though Mille Lacs is currently a catch-and-release body of water for walleyes, the idea of catching a bunch of fish — and perhaps a trophy specimen — proved hard to resist.

It turned out that Kerr was a professional bass fisherman, fishing tournaments in Louisiana and throughout the South. Additionally, John and Ben had hired a guide last year on Mille Lacs for the specific purpose of chasing smallmouth bass. That day was a bust.

I felt that along with pursuing walleyes, I could get these guys on a decent bass bite, despite the fact I had never targeted Mille Lacs smallmouths. The high sun and calm conditions of the early morning made my first decision easy. We would target bass. I started to gather information off the depth contours of my graph and the app on my phone.

From our starting position, I quickly identified a milk run of a half dozen rock piles that topped off in that 6 to 10 foot range. I figured most of the bass had pulled off shoreline spawning structure and migrated to offshore locals to chase schools of perch and to nose through the rocks for crayfish.

Swimbaits, jig and plastic combinations, and crayfish-colored tubes all made the starting lineup. We worked our way slowly along the edge of our fist rockpile. After a few short minutes without any takers, my mind began to swirl. Maybe they were on the shorelines still? Maybe we need to fish deeper? Perhaps, make a move already? My tube drifted behind the boat. I felt it pulling up and over the rocks. I felt the distinctive “tick” of a bass pinning it to the bottom. I snapped the rod high above my seated position and jumped to my feet. Fish on.

A pattern emerged as I hooked the next several bass. Slowly dragging tubes would be the ticket. We plied several more rockpiles and battled plenty of smallmouths to keep us happy. They fought with tremendous strength, bulldogging underneath the boat, and launching themselves skyward trying to throw the nasty crayfish that had bit them back.

Reluctantly, I pulled the plug on the smallmouth fishing. The pull of Mille Lac’s famous mudflats proved irresistible. With names like Blue Jug and Boot and Schultz Flats, the mudflats are distinct areas were the basin rises from 30-plus feet and tops off closer to 20-26 feet. Walleyes use the tops and sides of these flats to feed. It was pretty clear what they were after on this day. Mayfly carcasses choked the surface of the lake as we motored five miles out.

Each time I’m out on Mille Lacs I marvel how the early fishing guides located these flats day in and day out. Today it’s as easy as staring at the split screen on my sonar. One side measures the depth, the other precisely marks my location in relation to the flats I’m trying to fish. I imagine trying to triangulate that big point with that water tower and that dip in the horizon 30 years ago. I probably would have stuck with shoreline structure.

We drug Lindy Rigs across the sides and top of our first flat. Reminiscent of our first smallmouth spot, bites didn’t come immediately and doubt began to creep in. But the sharp thump of an aggressive walleye quickly erased those worries. I released my bail and fed him some line as he peeled off toward the depths. Rearing back on him, I felt his weight load up on the rod. A quick look around, nobody else on this flat. We would chase these fish by ourselves for the next hour or so. I threw a waypoint down each time one of us hooked a fish, honing in on our perfect route of attack. A steady supply of chunky walleyes visited the big blue Lund before being deposited back into the lake. John popped the biggest, taping out at just under 27 inches. A quick picture, and back over the gunnel it went.

We fished only a couple of other flats throughout the day. Some were devoid of fish. Others had scattered, catchable fish. Our last spot proved the most productive. The promised wind finally decided to make an appearance. It blew us across the tip of a small flat that held a massive school of walleyes. Each pass produced singles or doubles.

Sufficiently pleased we had accomplished what we had come for, we motored back to the landing as the sun began to set. We cast tubes atop one last rockpile on the way in. Bass were still roaming the edges, but every other fish was a walleye. We couldn’t keep the darn things off.

We would bring zero fish home. We didn’t mind one bit. Mille Lacs is a special place where a successful day is not measured by a full livewell.

Bret Baker is a lifetime resident of Cloquet. He is a proud husband, father, educator and outdoorsman.