Pine Knot Outdoors: 'Crappie Keith' lives up to his name

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 into our first cove, Nelson sprang to action. He cut the big motor, grabbed a rod, and jumped on his front trolling motor in one fluid motion. "Try not to get snagged on everything," I had been warned.

We slid quietly in the stillness of the morning. The world around us had yet to awake. Cabins lay dormant. Homeowners still lay asleep on a lazy Sunday morning. Nelson, reviewing one of his three massive Hummingbird fish finders, was busy gathering information. The calm before the storm. Water temperature, depth, wind direction and sun angle were pieces of a puzzle Nelson would work all day to solve.

Our first target: a nondistinct swimming raft. Nelson fired off the first cast. His weapon of choice was a 2-inch Bobby Garland Baby Shad suspended under a small float. I worked a small tube jig and fan cast the area. Almost immediately Nelson's float snapped sharply and he landed his first crappie. Shortly afterward, I tangled with my first Big Sandy crappie of the year. Both fish were lengthy, but their width and weight were tremendous. "The crappies here have shoulders," Nelson chuckled. We made an early decision that we would spend the day catching and releasing the big-shouldered crappies, none would find their way to the frying pan.

"Over the years, I've fished all of these docks and swimming platforms," Nelson said as we jumped around the lake. Each one held a memory and a story for Nelson to recall. "We were pounding crappies off that swimming platform," Nelson said, pointing to a distant one. "The cabin owner was not happy with us. He came out with his pontoon, hooked a chain up to the raft, and pulled it right off the lake!" The homeowners Nelson and I would cross paths with that day were more welcoming. Especially when they saw us releasing all of our catch.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the fishing got hotter. "It's all about the shade," Nelson said, as he broke down one of his favorite patterns. "I call it the 'Steel Jungle' - all the docks, rafts, and boat lifts that provide cover and shade for schooling crappies."

We would spend the next six hours deep in the Steel Jungle trying to pull slab crappies from its mass of beams, chains, ropes, and crossbars.

I sat back and simply appreciated Nelson's attention to detail. His boat control was superb, helped tremendously by the spot lock feature on his MinnKota trolling motor. He approached every dock with stealth and dissected each spot of cover before moving on. Part meteorologist, part mathematician, he played the wind, sun, shade and casting angles like an artist. Twenty-plus years of experience allowed Nelson to know what shorelines and docks we wanted to fish, based on the position of the sun.

For a while, I dabbled on the outside edge of the docks and rafts, content to watch Nelson ply deep into the shady recesses of the Steel Jungle. My confidence grew with practice and my casts began to find their mark deep under the docks. Correspondingly, I began to add to our collective catch. Some docks were a bust, others held a couple of crappies. The hot docks punched out 10-15 crappies in a flurry. We worked side-by-side dissecting cover and swinging crappies in tandem, laughing and appreciating each other's ability to place our baits in the tightest of spots.

I'm always trying to learn new patterns and techniques to add to my angling arsenal. Spending the day alongside someone who truly knows what they are doing shortens that learning curve tremendously. I never got a chance to see Michael Jordan knock down a jumper live, or Joe Montana throw a fade in the back of the endzone, but I was able to watch Mr. Nelson shoot a bobber 8 feet under a dock on Big Sandy. For me, it doesn't get much better than that. It's also easy to see why most people don't refer to him as Mr. Nelson. Everyone knows him as "Crappie Keith."

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 our region has to offer.