CRANE LAKE, MINN. — Few anglers who wet a line in this picturesque northern border lake on Saturday had time to consider whether fishing is a sport or something more akin to a religious experience. Having pulled on every hooded coat and pair of coveralls they brought with them on this first day of the state’s inland fishing season, they were too busy staying warm for such high-minded thinking.

A Minnesotan, Bob Dylan, who grew up not far from here, is famous for crooning that one needn’t be a weatherman to know which way the wind’s blowing. He had that about right, because by mid-morning Saturday the white caps that decorated the top of Crane Lake were their own sort of weathervane, telltale of a brisk wind that vectored straight out of the northwest. Even the statuesque red and white pines that line the shores of this postcard-like North Woods lake bent and waved in the minor tempest.

We rose early, and by a little after 6 a.m., Steve Vilks, Joe Hermes and I were on the water, putt-putt-putting up a narrow river that drains into Crane Lake in front of Nelson’s Resort, where we headquartered for the weekend.

The river is shallow and slow, except for the portion that gathers beneath a small waterfall a mile or so upstream. It’s there on last year’s opener that walleyes made us look fairly smart, succumbing to our jig-and-minnow combinations one after another. Clever anglers that we are, we figured we’d have another go at it this opener.

“Even if it’s only half as good as last year, it’ll still be good,” I said.

The air temperature barely crested 30 degrees, and the water temperature measured only 48 degrees. Neither was comfortable, or comforting. But we were in fine spirits. And why not? Everyone wants to catch fish. But opening weekend is as much about reunion, ceremony and tradition as it is about walleyes. And there we were, the bunch of us, together again.

Joe was first to boat a fish, a plump female walleye that was worthy of wall hanging, if he were into that sort of thing.

Putting up a good, long fight, and staying deep before being netted by Steve, that first fish of our 2026 opener stretched a tape to a little over 26 inches, making it a legal keeper on Crane. But the fish was soon released, and she waved her tail, seemingly in gratitude, as she disappeared in the tannin-colored water.

“It was a late spawn for her to still be hanging around here,” Joe said. “Last year, all we caught were smaller males here, with the females scattered out to deeper water after spawning. So things are definitely later this year.”

Also in our bunch were John and Jodi Weyrauch of Stillwater, who fished out of their boat. In another boat were Terry Arnesen of Stillwater, Mark Strelnieks of Victoria, Tom Whitten of Glenwood City, Wis., and David Tomsche of Melrose, Minn.

Some of us fished jigs and minnows, others, Lindy Rigs and minnows. Mark was next on the board, landing a 17 1/2-incher on the latter outfit. But for the most part, the nine of us cruised the swirling water sensing not even a bite and feeling a little less clever with each passing minute.

One explanation for our lack of action was the water temperature. Though the ice went off Crane late last year, its water warmed quickly, thanks to the more temperate weather that prevailed in these parts in April and May 2025.

As a result, the water temperature last year on the opener hovered around the mid-50s, a good 7 to 10 degrees warmer than this year.

“Let’s try another spot,” Steve said finally.

A Minnesota native, Steve now lives in Florida. Wisely, he hasn’t sold his warm clothes, all of which were needed as we crossed Crane’s open water, headed for King Williams Narrows. Joe, of Minneapolis, was bundled warmly, too, and shortly after we arrived at our destination, we were into fish, one after another.

First, Joe’s rod bent in a broad arc against the weight of a keeper walleye. Then Steve’s did, too. As it did, a trio of hooded mergansers arrowed above us, bending their wings rapidly against the stout breeze. Along the shore, meanwhile, aspen trees that in fall are hued so brilliantly yellow remained stark and leafless, vestiges of a long winter.

“I’ve got one, too,” I said.

Farther up Crane, beyond Sand Point Lake, waters that form the Minnesota and Ontario border were just now awakening. The returning loons told that story, as did the eagles and kingfishers and the white-tailed deer with their shedding winter coats. Voyageurs National Park is part of this, as is Namakan Lake and beyond it Rainy and Lake of the Woods, each a watery pathway that for thousands of years were followed by indigenous peoples, then fur traders, then settlers — and now, fortunately, us.

By mid-morning the sun rose higher in the sky and we wanted the walleyes to start snapping. Big walleyes, small walleyes, we didn’t care, so long as the tug on our lines yielded fish in our live well.

That didn’t happen.

Instead, the cold wind nipped at our hands and faces, and the walleye bite remained at what optimists would call “intermittent.”

But there we were, happy enough to be on site and ready for one season to become the next, as delayed as that transition might be this year.

A great opener, again.

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