Strike Three!

With the apparently successful closure of another fiscal year at work and a favorable short-term weather window, I planned to go fishing October 1.  Muskie fishing, of course, and with a current tip that “C Lake” was hot, I decided to go there for my first time.  At first I planned on a simple, after-work trip, but as the morning of October 1 progressed, I started getting antsy.  Boat chores, tackle preparation and so forth were calling me from my desk, and when I determined that moonrise was scheduled for about 2:45 PM, I decided I needed to be in place by that time.  So my cubicle was vacant by 11 or so and I was on the water by 1 PM.

The lake conditions were quiet (it was after all, a mid-week afternoon), but I was surprised to see the water was pretty turbid.  All I really knew about the lake was to target shallow weeds with bucktails, so I stayed in the shallow-basined lobe of the lake and headed across to some marshy cover with lily pads.  I’d casted almost half of the available shoreline in 5 feet of water or less, and neither my lures nor my sonar had revealed any submerged weeds of consequence.  Moreover, the edge of the pads seemed lifeless.  Neither a bucktail spinner nor a prop-bait topwater had moved anything.

As I trolled my way back to a new starting point, my Humminbird revealed patchy, yet consistent, weeds from about 6.5 to 11 feet of water.  I purposefully dredged some up with a deep-diving crankbait, and I was pleased to identify the weeds as native milfoil.  Most importantly, they were green and healthy, and with two to six feet of open water above the growth, they were pretty easy to fish!  I keyed on these depths for the rest of the day; per my tip, I had to throw bucktails as the bait of choice, but I chose to throw some topwaters, too.

I was therefore comfortably and confidently positioned just before scheduled moonrise when the first fish of the day appeared.  As my Windell’s Harasser approached the boat, her outline briefly crystallized, but then she was gone in a flash.  She didn’t leave as explosively as last week’s Thornapple Lake fish, but something had clearly bothered her; she didn’t glide by or simply disappear from view, she fled!  But I’d seen enough to confirm her as a muskie, and while not a giant, she would have been a nice fish to catch!

Now with enhanced confidence (because somehow in this sport, even failure is success!), I continued casting this weed-bed.  I was around some fish for the important lunar event of the day!  That’s why I was here, after all, and I was shortly rewarded with a second follow!  This fish was smaller, probably about 36 inches, and followed my bait with interest.  She showed herself well enough that I could discern her coloration and markings.  She then simply disappeared as I went into and continued my Figure 8 antics.  She never re-appeared.

So my black and red Harasser was now 0-for-2.  I tweaked my presentation to a white, double-bladed spinnerbait.  This bait offered a little less flash, but a bit more displacement, and also offered a distinct clatter and vibration as the blades spun and ticked the lure’s main body.  Very soon thereafter, the third muskie of the day came into my view, tracking down my bait.  She was clearly the biggest of the day; probably in the mid-40 inches range.  And she looked hot!  She was positioned with my bait just in front of her left eye and cheek, and as I swung the lure past the bow and trolling motor to the other side of the boat, I swear I could see her eye focused on the bait.  She tracked my bait deep into the first turn, but then her momentum seemed to carry her away.

Strike Three!  I’d taken three in a row and had nothing to show for it.

It was now 20 minutes or so after scheduled moonrise.  The wind was freshening and the skies were clearing.  Soon it would actually be pretty nice out, a pretty drastic change from the session’s start.  I’d stay for another three hours or more, and I’d not encounter another fish.

Was it the lunar schedule or just a little front pushing through with the accompanying change in weather that had activated the fish?  I don’t know.  I don’t really have enough data.  The Moon looms large in muskie fishing literature, and many respectable folks believe strongly in its influence on muskellunge behavior and fishing success.  On the other hand, for the most part I’ve simply chosen to fish when I can.  I’ll continue to do that, but I’ll be sure to remain aware of lunar cycles.  I’ll try to be on prime spots at prime times, at least for muskies.  And if I occasionally stretch or re-arrange my muskie fishing schedule to include an occasional, extra lunar event or two, that’s possibly (probably?) just plain smart.

So I struck out.  But I was in the game!  I had struck out in a glorious setting; and I should have plenty more at-bats in the future.