Inside Angles: A Piece of Paradise in the Wilderness at Home

A hint of sunrise sets the eastern sky as I shuffle down the bank to a river spot that has been a prominent part of the In-Fisherman scene since we built our office on the right bank of the Upper Mississippi River in Baxter, Minnesota in 1998.

It’s a chilly morning in May, shortly after the official fishing opener the second Saturday of the month. When the water isn’t too high, postspawn walleyes filtering back to feeding areas down river find their way into spots in this section of the river. How could we be so lucky that the land available on which to build our office would abut a river section with habitat characteristics that often attract fish—not just walleyes, but smallmouths, pike, and muskies, and more recently channel catfish?

There’s a dam about 4 miles upriver. Just above us a prominent necked river bend quickly widens and settles into a long run and, at the end of that run—which is where our office sets—a basin of sorts, before the river again narrows and shallows up, flowing more quickly down river past several rocky outcrops that resemble wing dams, each with modest eddy areas below them.

At the tailout of the basin, the water builds, causing it to momentarily slow, especially along bottom. So, as I’ve noted, several weeks after spawning, walleyes are on the move downriver—and the little bit deeper and slower water in the basin gathers baitfish and some walleyes wanting to feed on them.

This day the river is low enough that I bumble along the water’s edge in hip waders. My rod is a 7-foot medium-light power with a fast tip, the reel a 30-class something spooled with 8-pound braid, the better to make long casts—from shore, obviously, you’re at the mercy of what you can reach from your casting position. In this instance, working the basin area from head to tailout there are three spots to fish, each about 60 feet apart, before the water gathers steam and quickly pushes south.

I’ve spent thousands of hours fishing like this from shore. You get to know good spots well. The basin, about 8 feet deep this day, has scattered rocks and a few large boulders set on a mostly sand and marl bottom. The walleyes are always in the basin—sometimes a bit upstream, often in the belly of it, and sometimes right at the tailout.

It’s the nature of moving water to stack most of the wood debris closer to the bank in shallower water, which makes fishing through those areas more difficult. Apparently, there’s not enough water over head to make baitfish feel safe up shallow in these conditions. Later, once the basin has been picked free of forage, occasional smallmouth bass cruise the shallows, looking for scattered baitfish and crayfish.

The curious thing about a spot like the basin is that most anglers walk right past it to fish the obvious boulder outcrops below the tailout. Boat anglers also head immediately to that classic-looking water with rocks and distinct eddies. Granted, in summer, smallmouths might be there. In another two weeks, a short-lived glut of prespawn channel cats might also be in the hole below the most downriver outcrop. It’s all about timing and territory and the nature of fish being pursued played against the backdrop of river dynamics.

An aside, my largest muskie, about 52 inches and weighing an estimated 40 pounds, was in this basin during late fall when the water was low. The slower, deeper water in the tailout was again the perfect resting and feeding area for that fish. In fall it’s redhorse and white suckers moving downriver that muskies are looking for. That big fish was 20 years ago, though. These days, muskies don’t seem to hold there anymore. That, too, is part of the changing nature of various river areas. Yet overall, this river section is 35.1 miles long and still produces some big fish. They just aren’t in all the obvious areas of yesteryear.

Boots, rod and reel, small plastic bag of lures, hat and hooded jacket. Up the bank is a knife, a brain spike, and an ike jime wire. It also works to carry a fish basket to keep fish alive until you cleaned them, but these days, it’s Catch. Kill. Bleed. Chill—that is, catch as quickly as possible, kill immediately with the spike to the brain, then bleed immediately and use the wire to destroy the spinal cord. This reduces any stress on the fish, which ensures the best possible outcome at the table.

In warm weather, ice is required to chill the fish, but on this cool morning, given that I won’t be fishing long, I just lay the fish in grass until it’s time to leave. Make no mistake, my intent is to catch at least one for the table.

Just about anything that works for walleyes triggers fish in this instance so long as you can get it near bottom and keep it there. The obvious answer is a jig. Hair jigs work superbly, tied in just about any minnow pattern. The other answer is a plain jighead with a paddletail body about 3.5 inches long. Successful fishing is firstly all about depth control and then speed control, or how you’re working the lure. Shape and color and other lure characteristic are secondary to the fact, which is true in every angling situation. It’s a simple lifelong angling axiom that should always be riding in your hip pocket.

In this instance, a slow grind along the bottom works best. The casts can be at a quarter upstream, straight across, or at a quarter downstream. Once the lure works through the deeper water—so about 40 feet of a 100-foot cast—just reel in quickly and make another cast.

An hour of this—maybe two—is just right, because that’s what it takes to catch the fish that might be here. Then give it a rest until tomorrow. Fresh fish should trade in and set up to meet me again in the morning.

Fish can be caught midday at times on dark days. The most important thing is to have fish moving through. Which is why it’s not a worry to reveal spots like this. Conditions conducive to attracting fish don’t happen every year, and even when they do the fishing rarely last two weeks. Besides, other shore anglers can’t get here. Boat anglers, meanwhile, have their pick of a dozen other potential spots that are just as good; no need to travel all the way to this particular basin to have a chance at catching a couple fish.

Each time a fish hits and I stand connected I also stand amazed. Before leaving, time for a cup of coffee, watching the river roll on down toward Louisiana, as I sit at an old picnic table near a fire pit where I have cooked many shorelunches over the years. I am often in search of simplicity these days, and this is it. A little piece of paradise in the wilderness close to home.

---