ppm

Given Thursday’s completion of a fairly major task at work, a beautiful (albeit windy) June day,  and the dwindling clock on my oldest daughter’s break from school, after a quick lunch at a favored restaurant, we hit Lake M for another shot at muskies.  We had tried for muskies on Sunday morning, and had shared a really nice experience that encompassed a signature West Michigan Early Summer Dawn, some wildlife, a fairly quiet lake, and even encounters with two of Lake M’s muskies.  The estimated duration of our exposure to the muskies was about a second (and so represented less than 1 part in 10,000 parts of our fishing effort), but this 100 parts per million (ppm) or so was more than enough for us to choose to try again.

I’m not used to fishing in the early afternoon of work days, nor have I embraced fishing in 20 mph northerly winds, but as I approached the area of Lake M where we’d crossed paths with Sunday’s fish,  I had a bit of confidence.  Despite the wind, boat control was good; the weed’s break-line was clearly visible; the wind was pounding into this barrier; and my lure was spooking up fleeing baitfish with each cast.  I expressed some of my optimism to Katie, likening my lure and the baitfish to marlin and mahi, respectively, and asked her to dial in, because conditions seemed “right.”  Less than 15 minutes into the session, my feelings were validated when I experienced one of my most memorable freshwater strikes ever; and I briefly loaded the rod on a very sizeable muskellunge.  She’d eaten my Rapala Gliding Rap right on the break, exactly like I had hoped.  Of course, I didn’t sink any hooks into her and she quickly disappeared with a stunning displacement of water; but I’d gotten my dose of more than 100 ppm, and the need for my next fix cemented into my being.

Nothing else of positive fishing note happened for the rest of the afternoon, but we were in the game, enjoying each other’s company, and we each had an inkling of what real success at this musky thing will feel like.  And while I know that it doesn’t really matter whether or not you catch the fish, catching one has to be better than just exposing them, right?  In the meantime, I’d gotten more out of the effort than I’d likely have gotten from a routine bassin’ trip, and I’m getting more comfortable with and more appreciative of my new musky gear.  I’m piecing together my experiences with those of other musky-chasing co-workers, and my knowledge base and confidence are growing.  While this might be at the expense of my current Great Lakes or local bassin’ experiences, it feels like a proper investment of, and the right thing to do with, my limited fishing time.

Part of this blogging thing is getting the proper picture, too.  Just another way for me to fail, but it’s tough to get a good picture of these fish when you’re not getting them in the boat.  Oh well, here’s an opportunity for me to simply share a picture my dog, Oliver, behaving and enjoying himself on his first non-Reeds Lake fishing trip.  He did really well, did not in any way detract from the fishing, and truly enjoys getting out.  I wonder how he’ll deal with a 49-incher in the boat?

Oliver's Numenon