BWCA Entry Point 25: Winter Camping and Fishing

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For years I have dreamed of camping and ice fishing in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Biting cold and slush-laden lake tops have kept me home the last two winters. That was fine; I’m not one to press my luck. But the warmer-than-average weather we’ve enjoyed lately had me itching to get at it. 

Entry Point 25, with walleyes in Newfound Lake and brook trout in Found Lake, was the perfect setting for my introduction into winter adventuring. Little did I know, however, that introduction would come with a sobering peek into my own psyche. 

First Day Surprises

The hike across Moose Lake was relatively easy, thanks to a well-trampled dogsled track. It provided a low-friction surface for my sled full of food, clothing, and equipment. The lonely expanse of Newfound Lake greeted me in no time, it seemed. I set up camp at the first campsite that suited my needs. It was nicely sheltered and situated at the center of all the areas I intended to fish. 

That first sundown was spent at the most promising structure depicted on the crude old lake map. Walleyes were the target. With about 10 holes drilled, I had a pretty good handle on the lay of the lake. The mood of the fish, however, was beyond my control. 

Red and orange bars would appear slowly on my Vexilar and disappear after a few moments of apparent disinterest. My tip-up flag went up often, but attempted hand-to-fin combat always ended with an empty hook. These scenarios repeated themselves several times. I downsized my jigging spoon and kept skewering minnows, hoping for better results. 

Well after dark, a large red mark approached my lure. It followed as I pulled up slowly. One fish appeared to separate into two, with a rippling green signal immediately below. I could not imagine what my sonar was trying to show me. Not until I detected a small bite and set the hook, that is.

My rod doubled over and the line barely budged. 

I managed to work that fish nearly up to the top before it began fighting back. Then progress was slow. Time and again, powerful runs erased gains made. There was no doubt the fish was large. Since it was already nighttime, I assumed it to be either a burly eelpout or the heftiest walleye I’d ever fooled into biting. When the massive face of a northern pike passed through the beam of my headlamp, I let out an astonished gasp. 

Ice fishing BWCA Newfound LakeOn about the fourth attempt to maneuver that fish’s head into the hole, I finally succeeded. Foot after foot of fish flesh emerged from the 6-inch hole as I lifted. It was miraculously docile once topside. Even more miraculously, the tiny, mangled treble hook was barely lodged in its lip. I took a couple photos and a quick measurement— 38 inches, my biggest ever— before sending it back through the ice. It was a thrill, to be sure. 

As stillness closed in again, however, that thrill faded and was soon overbalanced by foreboding as black as the night itself. One of winter’s greatest dangers— the cold of night— was at hand, and I couldn’t escape a piercing sense of isolation and helplessness. In that moment I wanted to be anywhere but there. Consciously, I knew temperatures would stay reasonable and that I was well prepared. But anxiety of that kind isn’t necessarily logical. I soon headed for the safety of camp. 

Once fed and seated by a crackling fire, my rational self again wrested control of my mind. I truly had not anticipated the kind of anxiety that swept over me on the lake, and spent some time sitting and examining it like a raging beast returned to its cage. It was unlike anything that has ever happened to me on my adventures. I was glad to have overcome it. 

The remainder of the night was spent ordering my gear and mentally rehearsing my steps for the next morning. I crawled warm, dry, and calm into my sleeping bag and listened to sled dogs barking in the distance. 

30-Minute Gold Strike

Ice fishing BWCA Newfound Lake walleyeOvernight temperatures seemed to hold around 20 degrees, as expected. Unzipping the bag and getting dressed at 6 a.m. was surprisingly easy. I was eager to get back to my fishing spot, which I believed to be good despite a somewhat disappointing show the night before. 

To no surprise, the walleyes were in much the same mood. Unenthusiastic visitors to my lures continued to frustrate. Still, I kept at it. 

My tip-up had five hits without a hookup, so it seemed I needed to change….something. I gave it a different hook type, re-baited, and re-set. In the same spirit, I also swapped my lure for an Al’s Goldfish Living Lure in perch color. That’s when the magic happened. 

The next fish to approach my jig came fast and gulped it without hesitation. It was a 16-inch walleye that I happily tossed on the ice next to my sled. Minutes later, the tip-up flag went up again as another red mark approached my lure. The attempted thief turned out to be an 18-inch walleye which apparently had no qualms about swallowing a whole minnow. A little while later, a 10-incher showed similar enthusiasm while other fish made moves on my jigging spoon. 

Ice fishing walleye BWCA Newfound LakeThat change in activity was clear and concise, lasting just half an hour or so. Of course, I’d hoped that kind of action would have been the norm rather than the exception. All the same, I felt my goal of finding good walleye fishing in the BWCA had been met. 

After a late breakfast feast, I loaded the sled in order to spend the rest of the day out and about. I began by exploring Found Lake, which turned up nothing. I then returned to Newfound in order to circle through the main basin, attempting to entice tullibees and/or lake whitefish, then hopefully to locate and fish an underwater point in the last couple hours of the day. 

I found the tullibees immediately in 36 feet of water. Let’s just say they weren’t hungry. 

The next hole, which should have been deeper, was actually 32 feet deep. Intrigued, I drilled six holes in a circle surrounding that one. It was clear I’d found a hump that was unmarked on the map. About an hour and a dozen holes later, the hump was explored and the decision was made to concentrate the rest of the day’s efforts there. 

At one point a young fellow on skis came off the trail to Found Lake and glided over to chat me up. He urged me to try Found for the morning brook trout bite. I was already considering it, but the picture he showed me of a recent catch there sealed the deal. He stayed just long enough to witness me catch my only fish on that spot: a “hammer handle” pike on the tip-up. 

He was unimpressed, of course, and casually mentioned how that hump was a “big pike” spot before leaving. I wished he had witnessed something closer to the previous night’s catch instead. That nearly came true, as a little while later another fat red mark with rippling green tail approached my little spoon. It bit, I set the hook, it made a couple massive head shakes, then the line went slack. 

Yep, I lost my Goldfish. You can’t win them all. 

The clouds cleared out and let the warmth of the day escape. Frost grew quickly on every surface. I made soup (without tullibee to add, sadly), chawed on some jerky, and stared into the fire a while before calling it a night. It was clearly going to be colder, but I was unconcerned. Perhaps I should have been. 

Trouty Triumph

I awoke to drops of condensation splashing my face. 

The hood of my sleeping bag was gathering my breath and returning it in a most inconvenient way. Crawling out, I couldn’t help but notice the outside of the bag was damp to the touch. This was concerning because a buildup of moisture could really compromise the insulation. I hoped it would dissipate and continued getting ready. 

The pre-dawn air stung my face on the short trip to Found Lake. I estimated the temperature to be somewhere below 10 degrees. My toes had trouble warming my boots, which were also experiencing accumulated moisture. Sunrise couldn’t come fast enough. 

I drilled exactly one hole through the ice. It was five feet deep there— right in the bullseye, as far as I was concerned. Waxworm was given last rites and impaled on a nickel-colored Al’s Goldfish.

Rod on chair. Wipe hands on pants. Dip hole one last time. 

Before I could even get my gloves on, my rod began dancing around. I lunged for it.

Swing and a miss.

I prayed that would not be the only chance of the morning. 

It wasn’t. I dangled my lure halfway to the bottom and kept it moving. Fish would come and go quickly, some chancing a nibble. Soon I iced the first brook trout of my life— 12 inches— simply by standing and lifting. 

Brook trout ice fishing Found Lake BWCATrout were hot for the shiny Goldfish that day. Three more succumbed to its wiles, all between 11 and 12 inches long. A gentleman from the Duluth area arrived on skis just in time to witness the last one. He set up a short distance away. Just as I decided to call it a morning, he called for my help in getting a fish through the ice. I dashed over and knelt at the hole. 

It was giving him a real run for his money. He scrambled to find the right balance for his drag adjustment and at one point the knob fell to the ice in front of me. I handed it back, he reinstalled it. Somehow the fish finally came into position. I plunged my hands into the water and birthed a 17.5-inch trout into the dry world. Dan was grateful and exhilarated. I was pleased to have seen such a fish— and a little jealous, truth be told. 

That afternoon was spent soaking up sun, angling for willing tullibees and/or whitefish (unsuccessfully, again), and finally exploring that underwater point. It was smaller than expected, and fairly devoid of life. About the time I decided to abandon ship and head for my best spot, my wife was sending updates on an impending snowstorm via text message (yes, marginal reception there). 

Two days prior, that storm had been only a wrinkle in the forecast. But it developed into much more in the meantime and threatened my ability to get home safely the next day. I weighed my options as the sun set, and wondered if my sleeping bag could possibly be dry. Plummeting temperatures and visions of freezing rain revived anxieties that had been laid to rest two nights prior.

After nabbing one more walleye on my tip-up, I made a dash for it. It seemed prudent to forego a morning of trout fishing in the interest of traveling 250 miles on dry roads. I packed up camp in the dark (tent and mummy bag fully frosted) and began the 3-mile walk in the dark. 

Aftermath

The sky was excellent for stargazing, and the hour-and-a-half journey was the perfect opportunity to reflect on my trip. My time— though cut a little short— had been fruitful. Much had been learned about winter camping, clothing and gear both old and new, cold weather diet, and fishing. My efforts had yielded a new personal best pike, my first brook trout, and walleyes to bring home for the family. Perhaps best of all, I’d finally managed to do a winter wilderness solo camping trip. 

It had been a clear success. 

The flip side to that success, of course, was the specter of anxiety that seemed to find a foothold in the dark and cold. Somewhat ironically, I normally embrace that dark and cold. I guess that’s what made it so unexpected and foundation-shaking, even if only for short bouts. 

The good news is that I managed to work past those bouts efficiently, rather than folding under them. The next logical step will be to address any gear-related issues, not only to boost confidence, but also because wilderness requires best preparations. I may not always venture as far from home and civilization, but I can’t rule it out. 

There’s way too much wilderness out there to ignore, and never enough summer. 

 

Do Something New: Hook a Dinosaur

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I haven’t had many fun surprises lately. For better or worse, life has been plodding along at its sedated, pandemic pace. Nothing seems to change and there isn’t much to look forward to. Until Thursday, that is. 

An invitation came out of the blue from my friend Scott Mackenthun, who is a Fisheries department manager with the Minnesota DNR. He asked if I’d like to go out with him and try to catch lake sturgeon. I’d never caught one before, and wouldn’t have thought that was likely to change. I was intrigued, to say the least. Continue reading “Do Something New: Hook a Dinosaur”

BWCA Entry Point 52: Saved by Gillis Lake

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What do you get when you take a pandemic-weary man, work him nearly to exhaustion, cook him in the sun, and feed him a couple fish? A question for the ages, no doubt. In order to learn the answer, I left home hours before sunrise on May 18th. My destination was BWCA Entry Point 52, Brant Lake- somewhere I’d been trying to go for over a year. Continue reading “BWCA Entry Point 52: Saved by Gillis Lake”

Wilderness Food: Lake Trout Over Cedar Coals

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It’s a bit niche, I’ll admit. This method of cooking doesn’t lend itself well to universal use. There aren’t many times and places a person will readily be able to throw it together. Still, it’s too good not to share.

Last year, when I haphazardly threw a trout over the campfire for breakfast one day, I had no idea it would turn out so good. This year, I knew that was exactly what I wanted to do when I went back to the BWCA. In fact, I didn’t even leave myself any other options. It was this or nothing. Continue reading “Wilderness Food: Lake Trout Over Cedar Coals”

The Season for Outdoor Savings

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It seems every year I tell myself I’m going to get new hiking boots. And ice fishing boots. And snow bibs. And winter clothing layers. And a new backpacking stove. I’m sure I’ll get around to all those, but most of my procrastination has to do with finding the right items at the right prices. Well, now is the time of year when prices get slashed and I need to be on top of my shopping game. You should too, especially if you need any type of outdoor clothing.  Continue reading “The Season for Outdoor Savings”

Ways to Extend Your Ice Fishing Season

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Well, the walleye and northern pike seasons ended yesterday here in Minnesota. This always leaves me feeling a little adrift with respect to the remainder of my ice fishing season. Most of my energy is spent chasing those toothy predators; nothing else quite measures up.

But I love ice fishing. I’d rather make use of the time left than hang my head and stuff my gear back up in the top of the garage again.   Continue reading “Ways to Extend Your Ice Fishing Season”

Trip Report: The Jumbo Perch of Devils Lake

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I don’t keep a bucket list. If I did, one of the items on it going into 2020 would have been ice fishing Devils Lake. When that opportunity recently landed in my lap, I couldn’t resist. It was a “Communicator Camp,” arranged by the Association of Great Lakes Outdoor Writers (AGLOW), where Devils Lake Tourism and Clam Outdoors hosted several media professionals like myself. 

We assembled the first night, and were given a warm welcome (and the game plan) by Devils Lake Tourism’s Suzie Kenner and Tanner Cherney. Two members of the Clam Outdoors Ice Team– Thayne Jensen and Tony Mariotti- also gave us an overview of all the equipment we’d be using. Everything sounded so good until the conversation turned to the weather.  Continue reading “Trip Report: The Jumbo Perch of Devils Lake”

Tullibees and Happy Kids on Mille Lacs

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Nobody smiles at 4:40 am. Nobody at my house, anyway. But Friday morning, I woke my kids up that early, knowing they would be smiling a lot that day- eventually. They had the day off from school, and we had a big day planned at Mille Lacs Lake. 

Our little Ford Escape slinked down the resort ramp between rumbling trucks and wheelhouses, onto the white expanse. It was a few minutes before sunrise, though we wouldn’t see the sun that day due to thick cloud cover. Winds were moderate and temperatures were expected to rise about ten degrees to near 30 by day’s end. It wasn’t a picture-perfect day, but it could have been worse.  Continue reading “Tullibees and Happy Kids on Mille Lacs”

NAGC’s Best Adventurer Food, 2019

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Even when you’re on the road, everybody’s gotta eat. There are the hidden gems, and there are the inevitable sore disappointments. On my adventures, I’ve found my share of each. In the interest of rewarding the proprietors of first-rate eateries, I would like to share some of my favorites with you. Hopefully this will also serve to help you avoid some of the duds lurking out there. The map below is interactive, so click on the icons to obtain addresses, phone numbers, and websites. Have at it, and let me know what you think!

Continue reading “NAGC’s Best Adventurer Food, 2019”

BWCA Entry Point 44: Ice-Out Lake Trout

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Way up north, in the far reaches of Cook County, hundreds of deep cold lakes lie hidden in the hills and shaggy conifer forests. This is the stronghold of Minnesota’s lake trout population, with dozens of lakes hosting populations of one degree or another. There is a special place in my heart for lake trout, and an honored place on my table for any of the salmonid family. Since our trip to Crystal Lake last spring in the BWCA, I had been looking for my next opportunity to go after more of these delectable fatty fish. Also since last year, I had developed a deep burning desire to take a solo trip, which I had never done before. A permit for one person for Entry Point 44- with lake trout in Ram Lake and Little Trout Lake- seemed the perfect way to scratch both itches.  Continue reading “BWCA Entry Point 44: Ice-Out Lake Trout”

Do Something New: Smelt Netting

When I was growing up in the ’80s, the smelt boom on Lake Superior was already over and fading into collective memory, becoming legend. “Smelting” in its heyday was something everybody knew about and a great many rushed to the rivers to partake in. Nowadays, it’s almost exclusively a “used to” activity; you might have heard it too: “we used to go up there and fill up a barrel with smelt in half an hour.” In recent years, however, I’ve learned that the smelt still run and a select few still pursue them. 

Last Wednesday, I bought a smelt net from a guy on Craig’s List for 10 bucks. The next day I headed for Lake Superior with that net, hip waders, a 5 gallon bucket, what little information could be gleaned from the internet regarding current conditions, and a whole lot of hope. The plan was to start up the shore after sunset, and work my way down if I found nothing. The first stop was the booming metropolis of Knife River.  Continue reading “Do Something New: Smelt Netting”

My Public Lands: 2018

After the Public Lands Day rally at the state capitol rotunda last year, it seemed like a good idea to keep track of my public land usage until the next rally rolled around. I normally visit a lot of state and federal public lands throughout the year, but never kept a record, and so never really knew the extent of my own personal use. My mission to document my outings proved not only enlightening, but also spurred me on to go new places and try new things. 

The following is a visual representation of my visits- as well as my varied activities- on Minnesota’s public lands since last April. You may notice that not every single day or visit is represented by a photograph. For instance, some photographs represent an activity carried out on several different parcels, at noted. Likewise, some outings occurred on many different days, such as foraging in Chippewa National Forest and George Washington State Forest throughout the summer and fall. I only wish I had remembered to bring my rally sign with me every time; regrettably, there are some gaps in coverage. 

Our public lands, as you can see, are important to me throughout the year for camping, fishing, hunting, foraging, educating my children, and much more. If you are so inclined, please consider joining the Public Lands Day rally at the Minnesota state capitol February 7th, at 3:00. Thanks, and get outside. 

C.C. Andrews State Forest, Kettle River

Sucker fishing and camping, Cloquet Valley S.F. and CC Andrews S.F., April 2018 Continue reading “My Public Lands: 2018”

Trip Report: Lake Mille Lacs, January 2019

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Easy victories, camaraderie in the outdoors, a warm place to lay my head at night. These are all things I like as much as the next guy. When I pried myself out of bed last Thursday morning, however, I knew none of these things awaited me on Lake Mille Lacs. The lack of all three things, however, pointed toward a high probability of good fishing, which was more than I could resist. 

The latest buzz hinted that the west side of the main lake was just becoming accessible, and some folks had gotten out to the mud flats on ATVs and snowmobiles and found great fishing. The ice wasn’t reliably thick yet, it was said to be wet around cracks, and roads and bridges had not yet been extended past the bays. I don’t have a snowmobile or ATV, and I have no interest in being that guy who ends up needing a towing hookup at the bottom of the lake. My plan, if you could call it that, was to drive to the lake and see if it looked reasonable to walk out to the nearest mud flat. If it seemed foolhardy, I knew there was some fishing activity happening near some resorts, which I could fall back on. What I found when I arrived exceeded expectations; there was a well-worn road coming off the public access already, which immediately split off in three directions. I quickly packed up and started hightailing it for my destination, some 2 miles distant.  Continue reading “Trip Report: Lake Mille Lacs, January 2019”

Product Review: 2004 Ford F-150 Heritage

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“It’s a work truck. You’re a smaht guy.” Those were the last words spoken to me by salesman Sean, through the truck window, as I drove my F-150 Heritage off the lot in April of 2004. After I rolled the window up, my wife and I looked at each other and wondered aloud what that was supposed to mean. It seemed nonsensical. We laughed and shrugged it off, but never forgot that moment. I’m not sure what made those words so immortal, whether it be their cryptic nature or because it was fun to say “smaht” in our best manufactured Massachusetts accents. Either way, they stuck with us. After fourteen and a half years, however, Sean’s absurd adieu now seems strangely prophetic.  Continue reading “Product Review: 2004 Ford F-150 Heritage”