Newfound Confidence

It was with newfound confidence that I invited my friend, T, to accompany me on another afternoon trip to Lake C.  For the first time, I felt pretty good about the odds of encountering, if not actually catching, a muskellunge.  And while T and I have fished together for almost 20 years, and have caught many fine fish, we'd never encountered a muskellunge together (although he has a well-worn 25-or 30-year-old Lake C story of one involving a Dardevle and some bad luck.  This story did make its anticipated appearance during the trip.) I felt I had a chance to net somebody else's muskie in my boat (a personal goal), but I felt even more confident that maybe I'd get one and he could take a picture.  Because I still don't have that picture of me holding a fine, legal muskie.

There aren't any pictures associated with this entry, so you know we didn't get one.  But Man, was I close!  After 5 hours or so of throwing bucktails, topwaters, and trolling, having not seen a fish, I declared "10 more minutes."  I also switched from a bucktail to a Shallow Raider jerkbait; I'd convinced myself that it just wasn't a bucktail day, and I'd go out at least having tried an erratic jerk bait.  We were in a "new" part of the lake, but over my favored weeds, and clarity seemed a bit better than earlier in the day and in other parts of the lake.  It was starting to think about getting dark, and knowing that a single fish could change the day, I was still fishing hard.

I saw her eat my jerkbait on a pause at my feet.  She engulfed the bait.  I saw it; I set the hook.  The result was that I pulled the bait straight out of her mouth, but she was super-motivated and continued to chase the bait.  The lure's momentum caused it to break the surface and she followed, half out of the water and rubbing against Numenon's port bow, desperately trying to eat my bait.  But she lost sight of it, realized how out of control she was, and shot into the depths.

It was quite a sight, and another feather in my cap of muskie failures.  She almost seemed destined to be caught, but I still came up empty.  Oh well, Terry enjoyed the commotion, and we'd now had something of a successful day.  After all, we were on a streak of encountering muskies on 100% of our targeted trips together.  How many partners can say that?

Her appearance bought us another 10 minutes of fishing, and within 50 yards I had another, larger fish strike the Raider about 15 feet off the bow.  I had just paused the bait as it came into view, and she flashed up and inhaled it.  Again, I saw the whole thing.  Wary about setting the hook too soon (again), I waited until I felt some weight.  And I waited a little more, and then just a scooch more.  Still having felt nothing, but seeing the fish, and not my bait, I swung hard to the side.  My rod loaded, she erupted, panicked, shook her head, jumped, tumbled and promptly threw the lure back at me.

I've said it before, and I'll undoubtedly say it again; it was quite a sight, but just another feather in my cap of muskie failures.

*****

A few days later, I had the choice of chasing local pike or trying Lake C for muskies again.  I'll be honest, it wasn't much of a choice; I had to go back for more.  Even though the cold and blustery conditions were probably more conducive to trolling for pike, and the pike most likely would have been fun and generous, I knew a glimpse of another muskie was worth more than catching some pike, and that the upside of catching a monster muskie far outweighed the current value of the best imaginable local pike excursion.  At least to me; T declined the opportunity to join me this time.

Another combination of bucktails and jerkbaits; another couple of fish raised.  Both were fairly distant, lethargic followers, and neither seemed too inclined to bite.  But one was large, even by muskie standards, and the other revealed itself in a "new" part of the lake.  Water temps are still in the mid-50s and so we have lots of time left in the season.  I'm doing a lot wrong, but I'm doing more correctly.  I'm having fun, making progress, and etching images into the memory bank.

*****

The next trip was a quick, after-work effort, but included my friend J, formerly of C's.  It was a beautiful, calm weeknight, with the promise of moonset, sunset and a partial lunar eclipse all coming together.  I imagined the water turning to blood and masses of crazed muskies chasing our lures, but I guess because it was cloudy, and visibility was further reduced by an abundance of rural leaf burning and woodsmoke, the muskies were unaware of their opportunities.  We raised no fish, but J is an accomplished muskie guy, and I enjoyed his company.  I was also pleased to see that my locations, lure choices and presentations were all in the ball-park.

*****

Here's to a prolonged fall.  After all, how else can I take advantage of all this, plus the newly opened access to my favorite home-town pike lake?

Low Expectations

Maintaining overly high expectations is a surefire path to disappointment. Even if you’re successful, you might not be as successful as you’d allowed yourself to imagine.   Conversely, entering a project with low expectations of success might lead to a pleasant surprise.

*****

I was feeling pretty good about my recent muskellunge exploits, having encountered three fish in the last trip, as I prepared to return to C Lake.  But I was going fishing out of convenience, and I knew lunar and weather conditions were probably against me.  It was simply too nice; brisk, calm and bright; with no major lunar events in my window of availability, for me to expect much in the way of actually catching a muskie on this particular day.

So I kept my anticipation in check, and simply enjoyed the process.  It was a beautiful day and not too crowded.  My electronics kept me positioned over green weeds and I had a smorgasbord of choices to offer the fish.  I was simply enjoying The Grind; the relentless, meticulous covering of water with long casts, employing varying lures and cadences, totally in tune with the feel of the lure and always watching for a shadow, flash, bulge or boil from a fish.

She materialized behind and under my bucktail about 30 feet away from the boat and she tracked it under my feet to Numenon’s port side.  She entered the first wide turn of my Figure 8, and then, as quickly as she appeared, she dissolved.  I continued my Figure 8 for several laps, hoping she’d return.  She didn’t, but the day had now exceeded my expectations.  I’d been close to real success again, and this fish was a tank!  She never appeared to be really fired up; I could accept that she was simply a looker and not an eater.  I hadn’t caught her, but she had revealed herself.  I added another waypoint to the GPS and burned her location into my memory; I was making progress.

Perhaps an hour later I detected a slight hesitation in the flutter of my bucktail’s blade.  Hook-sets are free, so I was swung hard, and was super-pleasantly surprised to have the rod buckle.  When I felt the first head shakes, I knew she was an Esox; and when she raced past the boat I could finally say (again) that I was hooked up to a muskie!

She wasn’t that big, and the fight, although violent, was brief.  When she was clearly subdued, it became very important to me to get her safely secured in the net and get a picture of her.  That would end my Mighty Slumpellunge!  It wasn’t easy or pretty, but the pieces all came together, and after an easy hook extraction and a very brief photo session, she vigorously swam away.

Finally, another muskie in the net.  A mini-muskie at 32 inches, but still a muskie!

She's still looking at the black Harasser.

One angry freshwater fish.

For perhaps the first time in this game, I had more than the beginnings of an effective pattern.  My black Harasser was raising fish, and these fish were on the inside weed edge in a specific corner of the lake.  The sun was going down fast, but I still had some day-light left.  And while I didn’t hook up again, I did have two more follows.  Each was a very respectable fish that I will be pleased to encounter again.

I was off the water before full sunset, so I might have missed another feeding window.  But I was pretty pleased to return home. I hadn’t expected much from this trip; but I’d gotten a lot from it.  Rarely has a “small” fish been so fulfilling.  Still, it’s not the actual fight and capture of this particular fish that will keep me going.  Instead, it’s the images of the Ghosts of Muskies Past (with their undocumented and so therefore virtually unlimited size) that will keep luring me out there.

Ebony and Ivory; a black Harasser and a white BPS double-bladed spinnerbait raised 7 fish in two days.  The Diawa Lexa 300 high-speed reel was an important part of this equation.

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.

Top-water Bulge

The clock is ticking and summer is quickly transitioning to fall.  My near-term schedule is filling to capacity, and my longer-term horizon includes swim season finals, lots of wind, Black Friday, holidays and likely holiday travel.  It’s been too long since I’ve last touched a muskie, and so it was a no-brainer for me to take a recent Friday off work, squeeze in a trip and give Thornapple Lake a try.

West Michigan doesn’t have a whole lot of choices for muskies, but Thornapple is probably the most well-known.  It serves as the brood-stock lake for the MDNR muskie program, and it has a 50-inch possession limit.  It is managed for, and is known to produce, big fish.  It has lots of structure, cover, nooks and crannies, and it is famous for shallow fish.  It’s potentially an interesting place to fish.

But Thornapple’s also three times farther away than other choices, and (in my opinion) suffers from overdevelopment, weeds and water clarity/quality issues.  In my previous visit to the lake (Summer of 2013), it provided a less-than-satisfactory experience.  It was simply too crowded, busy, hot and buggy, with too many boats, and an astronomical amount of smoke from the various encampments and cottages around the lake.  There was nothing relaxing about that trip, and I came home skunked.

I hopefully anticipated a different experience on a post-Labor Day weekday, and Murray Lake hasn’t exactly been overly generous this season.  So I was fairly optimistic as I drove to the lake.  With the entire day ahead of me, I wasn’t exactly in a hurry.  And yet I still felt like I was a little bit late as I launched Numenon at about 7:30 AM.  Still, I was first to the ramp, and there was only one other boat out (as far as I could tell.)  Amazingly, we both seemed to be going to the same point, and so I deferred, and approached my second choice for a starting point; a current-swept shoreline at the head of the lake.

What a beautiful morning!

It was a beautiful morning!  I had still waters, low light, an undeveloped shoreline and various waterfowl to observe.  I also had my favorite muskie top-water lure, a hypnotizing black Pacemaker, clipped on.  On perhaps my tenth or fifteenth cast, I thought I observed a bulging wake appear behind my lure.  This wake stayed so precisely the same distance behind the lure during the retrieve that I started to question whether it was, indeed, a fish tracking my bait.  As the Pacemaker approached the boat, it was running out of real estate; something had to give.  Just as I entered my Figure 8, the fish clearly materialized a couple of inches behind the bait; she was a beautifully large muskellunge.  And just as quickly, she exploded away and was simply gone.

This day's "hot" set-up.

Nothing worth mentioning happened for the rest of the fishing day.

So I was close; but once again I failed to seal the deal.  Who knows what turned her off; too aggressive of an entry into the 8?  Noise from the trolling motor?  A ping from the sonar?  A glint of sunlight off my glasses?  While I postulated that slowing my retrieve would have force-fed her, further discussions with my muskie mentors indicated that it would be better to speed up; to utilize a large oval instead of the 8; and to keep the lure underwater during the turns.  Oh well, maybe I’m now better prepared for my next opportunity.  In the meantime I’ll take my satisfaction in simply having noticed her, catching a glimpse of her, and having experienced the impressive push of water as she bolted.  These are inspiring fish.

September Saturday

One Day Mini-Vacation Offers Glimpse of Future?

I was super-fortunate to recently share the day with my longest-tenured Michigan friend and fishing buddy.  “D” was a couple of years ahead of me when I arrived in Michigan for grad school and had actually moved on to other  endeavors by the time I got here, but his outdoor/fishing connections to my remaining contemporaries got us together.  We were primary fishing partners for many years.   Our kids bracket each other and we’ve navigated the local school system together.  We’re so compatible in the boat and afield that we’re still together*, and on this particular day, we made hay from his new digs; a retirement home on a lake with his Lund on a lift in the backyard.

As the day’s plans gelled, I had actually been a little bit nervous.  Our session was jammed into a typically busy week, between a couple of shifts at C’s, and we were confronted with pretty strong and wet cold-front conditions.  My tackle prep was lacking, my tackle selection was limited, and I wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence as I drove north.  I felt so out of synch that I was actually hung up on what to wear**, for gosh’ sake.

But D and his wife” J” are gracious hosts, and after a quick tour of the new property (I don’t remember how many beds or baths, but I do recall 5 garage stalls and a boat with lift on each side of the dock!), the tackle was loaded*** and we were plying the weed line just off-shore for bass and pike.  There was still a pretty brisk wind from the northwest, but conditions were drying out, warming a bit (to a high still in the 50s), and clearing.  Conditions were very fishable, but I still expected a tough bite.

We were on a very highly pressured, over-developed, public access lake.  But with the weather, the date, and with salmon staging at various Great Lakes ports and some college football on TV, there was nobody else bass fishing!  There were a few pan-fishers encountered throughout the day, but the bass and pike were ours for the taking, and without the usual distraction and bother of water-skiers, jet skis and such.   The one blessing of a Michigan Winter is the promise of Fall; and this day turned out to be a beautiful start to the season.

We approached our bass fishing as a team; and when D selected to crank the deep weed-line from the front of the boat, I sought a presentation to complement his from the back and maybe find larger, “kicker” bass.  So as he cranked the edge, I plumbed the depths with jigs, worms, swim-baits and slow-rolled spinner-baits.   In the first couple of hours, I got touched as couple of times, but the bites were half-hearted and I didn’t hook up.  D caught several smallish bass at first, but when he caught a couple of solid “keeper” bass between 15 and 17 inches, as well as a fat, 28-inch pike on and just off the edge, I started to think about other presentations. When he continued the catching, I had to switch; and I started fan-casting over the weeds.  What was probably a nice pike snipped of my blue ClatterRap almost immediately, but that first “real” bite provided some info; and soon I was in a rhythm of long casts over the weeds with a lipless KVD Red Eye Shad.  I found the correct cadence for the day, and I started to catch some fish, too.  We continued until late-lunch time, having contacted several groups of fish and with a virtual tournament catch of four legal bass weighing about 10 pounds, total, so far.  We’d each lost bigger fish that would have helped our total, but all in all, with the action from smaller bass and bonus pike considered, the day’s fishing (and conditions) so far had exceeded my expectations.

After a quick and easy lunch (brats!), D and I were out and back on another weed line.  D continued with his Rapala DT10 (natural bluegill pattern), but after a couple more small bass, I switched to a crank bait classic.  My selected Bomber Model A (Larry Nixon pro crawdad pattern), when presented properly (slowly and just ticking the deep weed wedge,) did pretty well for the rest of the day, catching several keepers and allowing us to “cull up” to over 13 hypothetical pounds for our five bass “limit.”

For the day, D had out-fished me; but I’d caught some contributing bass and ten or so others.  He’d caught at least a dozen and a half bass as well as five or six pike.  We’d patiently ground out a nice catch under what had turned out to be a very pleasant and comfortable day.  We’d re-connected and enjoyed each other’s company.  I’d certainly enjoyed his food, hospitality and access to his boat.  Nice day, eh?

Just so I can have a picture - this day's hot setups.

But as satisfying as the fishing turned out to be, this isn’t about the fishing.  “A” had arrived during the afternoon’s session for a visit and a shared dinner, and as we relaxed, recounted and rehydrated, we further realized the beauty and advantage of lakeside living.  A and I have similar aspirations for ourselves, probably back in New England.  We probably don’t care so much about the house, but the location, quality of the fishery, and the ease of access to the water will be important to us.  My dream includes Numenon docked on a lift, ready to go at a moment’s notice. D’s been living this dream for the last few months, and he’s averaging about 6 days a week with some time on the water.  He’s caught some nice fish, can avoid crowds or take advantage of windows of opportunity, and generally seems pretty content with this set-up.

Before dinner, we all took a tour of the lake on D’s new (obligatory?) tritoon boat.  That was pleasant enough, but when D punched the throttle to return to the dock, A’s spontaneous giggles touched me.  They were the uncontrolled giggles of an innocent child, a familiar laughter that I had not heard from her in quite a while, and somehow I knew that there was probably a pontoon boat in our future.  And I’m okay with that idea; it will give us a chance to share our enjoyment of our situation; and it provides the basis for a more complete picture of what might be.  Does this help explain (perhaps and just in part), why I continue at C’s?  Each shift might just be another bite off the elephant, but maybe I’m incrementally working toward something truly worthwhile.

After this One Day Vacation, I returned for a full Sunday shift at C’s.  Despite the seasonal insanity of our salmon-delusional customers, I had another really fine day.  Things are making a little more sense.  Much like D and I ground out a more-than-respectable catch, A and I are probably grinding out a more-than-respectable future.

Thank you, D.  Thank you, A.

*Although I have to be clear, it’s been a couple of years since we’ve actually fished together.  Work and family schedules, as well as his passion for hunting in the fall can make joint trips difficult to arrange.  However, this hiatus probably made this trip all the more meaningful to me.

**Here I am referring to the choice of appropriate outer-wear for the day’s conditions.  My StormR Typhoon jacket took care of all these concerns.

***Dave is a hellova C’s customer and has good taste in tackle!  His selections will help me benchmark certain rods and reels for future clients.

South Haven Generations

(This was has been languishing (seasoning?) a while...maybe it's still appropriate.)

Another Fathers’ Day just passed, and I had a very satisfactory one.  The day was low-key and relaxed, I spent some time with my local girls (while keeping in touch with my East Coaster), I fished, and I even caught a couple of decent bass.   I had a pair of muskies tracking my glide bait, and when my muskie lake got too crowded for my taste, I transferred my boat and attentions to my favorite local lake.   I was pleased to find that the construction situation there has been a blessing in disguise, in that it seems to have actually limited the overall use of the lake.  So I was able to stay out and enjoy myself later than usual without too much marine traffic; and when I got home, there was my trusty dog, a cold beverage, a spaghetti dinner, a new baseball book and a thoughtful, hand-written Fathers’ Day note!  Please let me re-phrase; it was a truly satisfactory day.

Moreover, it was a day off work and I had some time to think!  The best part about parenting or a Parent’s Special Day is the realization that your children are doing well; indeed, that they’re flourishing.  Both kids are embarking upon interesting, productive summers that have the potential for shaping their lives, and they’re both doing so with the necessary confidence and tools to get the most out of their experiences.   So, on this day, I felt contentment, and overall pretty confident that I’ve done a good parenting job (so far); and I had few distractions from these thoughts.

But what distractions I did have simply provided reinforcement for my line of thinking.  There have been a few recent health issues affecting family, friends and co-workers.  But extra visiting and mobile support systems kicked in (seemingly automatically, although I know that everybody sacrifices in these situations), all seem to be in good hands currently, and we generally seem to have the collective resources and ability to handle situations as they arise.  I know we can’t necessarily control outcomes, but we can certainly manage the process to the best of our abilities.  Simply knowing this is empowering, and I admire the grace so routinely exhibited by others in our everyday lives.

But, back to Fathers’ Day; in fact, back to Mothers’ Day.  My mom doesn’t especially enjoy Mothers’ Day, and so I’ve learned to down-play this occasion.  This year, I probably down-played it too much, though, and that didn’t feel right.  So I had decided to make it a point to acknowledge her on Fathers’ Day, for surely I wouldn’t be the father I am without her guidance and efforts; and since my dad has passed, why shouldn’t I acknowledge her at this time?  Of course, on this day she was travelling to care for another; she was hot and tired, and our conversation was rushed; and these words were left largely unspoken.  Crap and shith; I missed the opportunity.

About the same time as all this, my work environment had experienced the loss of a long-time leader; it was especially rough on a good friend of mine, from who I’ve learned a lot.  I was able to spontaneously share these thoughts.  Based on their spontaneity, I think they’re genuine:

“My closest experience with this was with my Dad.  In the end he left my Mom in good shape and his pain was gone.  I’ve not a single bad thought about him, and while I miss him; he’s not in pain.  He’s more alive in my memories than he was physically able to be for many years.  All is good with me and my Dad.”

So, regardless of whether you are a mother, father, son or daughter; I hope you are fortunate enough to distill your most meaningful relationships down to their foundations of pure trust, respect and love.

What’s this got to do with South Haven?  I recently took this particular friend’s wife, daughter and father-in-law out for a morning of salmon fishing out of this small Lake Michigan port.  Three generations, on my boat at the same time.  Because I’m the youngest of the youngest, this has rarely happened for me.  It was a beautiful day with a few beautiful fish, and I’d be hard pressed to say who (aboard Numenon) enjoyed it the most.  All I can say is that I had a great day.  It was a high-light in a season that so far has featured some really nice fish! And while I’d have loved to share it with my parent(s) and child(ren), I can’t help but realize that they’ve all prepared me to share, and to recognize, such fine moments. 

“Thanks!”

Kings captured by the youngster; photo by the grandfather.