Muskie Madness

“Fish such as these can propel anglers toward muskie madness.  In freshwater, perhaps only a muskie is capable of creating a life-altering experience without actually being caught.” {from the May 2013 edition of In-Fisherman magazine}

Well, I’m a little disappointed in their use of the “freshwater” qualifier, because that implies that saltwater offerings include other, equal or more powerful options.  Mako sharks come immediately to mind, and I’m sure that legions have been haunted by various billfish, tuna, shark, tarpon and grouper encounters.  Maybe muskies aren’t the Ultimate Fish.  But I’m here in Michigan 99% of the time, so I’ll content myself with what’s at hand.

As an approximate 9-year-old, my life was first irrevocably altered by the appearance of a fish.  It was a huge, bucket-mouth bass that somehow ended up in my possession.  I can still see that fish, and feel the pride associated with hoisting it up for others to see.  But it was simply a dream.  I don’t know what spurred the dream, and I don’t know what brought me to share it with my Dad.  But what do you know, that night we were procuring bait and tackle for our first fishing trip together.  While it took me some time to get to hoist my trophy, that dream bass (and my Dad's subsequent actions) altered my life's course.  In a positive direction, I might add.

But don’t forget the Amazon Basin's Candiru.  This little freshwater fish will change your life by swimming up your urethra.  Need I say more?

Candiru; i.e., Toothpick Fish.  Beware!

From the Web!

Candiru; those barbs are designed to get in and hold!

In general, I’m in current, total agreement with the opening statement.  You’d think the "First" or the "Biggest" or even the "Next" would be the "Best".  You might even think that landing a fish would be better than simply encountering one… but I’m haunted and driven by the fish I missed.  The lingering image of the cubicle-sized explosion of frothy, thrashed water, the memory of the power of the couple of head shakes during which we were connected, and the pure savagery exhibited by the strike, all supplemented by the near-constant reminders from the store’s various trophy mounts, dominate my fishing thoughts.  I’ve subsequently given up a lot of bass, pike and salmon fishing this season, in exchange for empty days on the water in pursuit of muskies.  Giving up on bass, pike and salmon; a sure sign of my madness. 

A life altering encounter?  Maybe not, and in the end it probably doesn’t matter which fish I’ve chosen to pursue or how I waste my time.  But the muskie has been a near-constant companion for the last 6 months, and I don’t see her being displaced by any local candidates any time soon.  Maybe I’ll even be able to whittle down that “without actually being caught” part of the quote.  In the meantime, I'll have to remain satisfied with the memory of yesterday's muskie tracking down my bucktail and following it for a few turns in my figure 8 before she disappeared.  She's given me more to think about!

2nd Half-Century

I just crossed the threshold into my 2^nd Half-Century, and while most of the recent public talk has been about the 50^th Anniversary of MLK Jr.’s March on Washington, I’d like to point out that he’s not the only one to have a dream.  Mine are more limited in scope, for sure, and many are just budding for me.  They are less well-articulated, but they are close to my heart, and I hope that my pursuit of them accomplishes some good along the way.

I, of course, dream of the best for my girls, even though I probably can’t define what “best” for them might be.  The providence of genetics and nurturing is largely complete, but I still have a role in enabling Stability and Opportunity in their lives.  I simply wish for their happiness as productive adults, surrounded by loving companions.  I wish for a future filled with interesting pursuits that provide for their growth in a safe, healthy environment.  I hope to remain their friend.

Not just my girls, but all my younger relatives and friends and their cohorts should have the opportunity to prosper.  At some point we need to get away from our collective short-sightedness and self-centered interests and decide to build a stable future that provides some real opportunities.   Here in Michigan, we should be preparing to build George Jetson’s car instead of fumbling along like Oliver Wendell Douglas in Green Acres.  We should be able to look slightly past the opportunities provided by the use of sticks and twigs as fuel and demolition of blight as a growth industry, and focus our attention and resources on education, service, and quality of life issues.

Mostly, I dream of A’s companionship and the fun to be had.  I dream of a boat in the water, an amenable nap schedule, some good meals and books, and lots of exploration and poking around.

On a fun but somewhat unnecessary note, some occasional blue water excitement (including occasional calm seas, warmth and a few new species?) would be nice.  This actually seems possible, given my efforts in retailing and outfitting for the past 7 months.  Maybe I even dream of these efforts spreading into other areas, getting out of my cubicle, and enjoying a future that involves some more time on the water.

Enough of dreams; here’s some reality.  I started off my 2nd Half-Century with an unlikely, quasi-spontaneous trip to Florida with my youngest daughter.  We’d talked for years about various Father-Daughter Trips, but we’d never actually executed one.   I knew we’d be alone this Labor Day Weekend (my other girls were in Maine), and a quick review of the Venn Diagram of Our Interests showed an intersection dominated by roller coasters and snorkeling.  So, supported in large part by funds from my second, fun job, we flew off on my 50^th birthday to Orlando for 3 Days, 5 Parks and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea!

It was generally awesome to share time alone with her, and this trip was a very well-earned reward for her general goodness and strength of effort.  I felt stupid for even thinking about traveling to Florida at the height of Hurricane Season, but in the end, all logistics worked out perfectly, crowds weren’t so bad, we did everything we wanted, and most of all it was FUN!  The best part of each experience was the sound of her laughter and the sight of her smile, and I was able to enjoy these things even more because the trip was focused on our companionship.  Not much else mattered, and the typical distractions and pressures of other trips (such as driving, fishing logistics and expectations, juggling multiple schedules, etc.) were minimized.  In addition to being fun, this trip was relaxing; and somehow I came back home rested and recharged.  I should remember this formula!

M in typical Florida mood and ready to go!

Underwater Selfie!

We took a break to visit the aviary and were visited by these two Sunny Conures.

Sharks!  Just Nurse Sharks, but still Sharks!

A typical encounter in crystal clear water; Cow-nose Ray, Look-down Jack and a Blue Surgeon.

• Three days
• Five parks
• Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Well, I can’t quite check off this last item.  But Marie and I did spend half an hour or more underwater with 70-pound aerated helmets on a Sea Adventure, walking around on the “ocean” floor while viewing hundreds of fish (bony and cartilaginous!) and various invertebrates.  I’ve been a huge fan of Jules Verne since I discovered reading, and while this experience wasn’t 100% Authentic (safety, oversight and boundaries did, after all, rule over flat-out adventure and collecting our dinner), it was a cool experience that I shouldn’t have waited 50 years for.  And I might have swum 20,000 leagues in my full day of snorkeling; at least that’s what my body is telling me.

Underwater with a Photo-Hogfish

Hogfish and Porkfish, with Jacks and Grunts in the background.

A beautiful Perth Mint Surgeon.

Worst-to-First!

It's late August and the Sox are still in First Place.  I'm starting to contemplate the growing of a 2013 Playoff Beard (so successful in 2004 and 2007) to help their quest from last year's Worst Place finish to this year's targeted First Place finish. Good luck to all involved!

I've been back from our New Hampshire/Maine vacation for a few weeks now, and I've been either too busy or too brain-dead to report on it.  But I was reminded of Worst-to-First turnarounds while fishing.

Maine has been very generous to me over the last decade-plus of striper fishing, and so when I received negative reports for the season from my local contacts upon arrival, I wasn't all that worried.  I've always caught some stripers.  I know from experience that I may have to suffer through a few consecutive slow tides, but sooner or later, the stripers and I will intersect.  But conditions felt inexplicably dead for the first few sessions, and with vacation time dwindling, I started to wonder if it would be my Worst Season Ever.  This was a short-term vacation and probably my only chance for the season; I was on the verge of blanking, and I knew it.

The only sign of a striper (or even suitable bait) in three days had been the mid-day sighting of a single (but very sizable) striper swimming under the dock.  With the belief that a chance at such a fish was better than throwing in the towel, I tried some pleasant, relaxed, sun-lit, tide-centered fishing one afternoon.  Mackerel made a sudden appearance to break up a slow start.  Since the first one landed was too large to free-line, I chunked it and set it on the bottom.  I was soon surprised by a confident take and run by what turned out to be a fine, 31-inch striper.  The skunk was out of the box, and to be honest, Striper Quest 2013 was a success!

Rarely have I been more pleased to catch a fish... a long-anticipated 2013 Striper!

Soon thereafter, another chunked bait (this time the mackerel's head) zipped out and I was tight to what I knew to be a very nice bass. She turned out to be 37 inches long, the biggest one I've ever taken from shore! In just a short time, I'd averted my worst striper season with a best-ever catch.

37 inches of bulldogging stubbornness...my largest ever shore-bound striper.

The good fishing held up through the evening.  Marie joined me for a bit the next day and took care of the first fish all by herself.  Her techniques were a little rusty, but losing the fish was worth it, just to experience her reaction to a fresh mackerel head being unexpectedly tossed at her face.

Fish on for Marie!

Head-shake!

The bait is thrown...

...and narrowly misses Marie!

What a face!

The evening continued with more opportunities, but few landed fish.  The fish were simply too big and too wily to land from my shore-bound location on my light tackle of choice.  While the season's final tally of fish landed was unusually low, their size made up for the lack of action.  And I'll never complain about Personal Bests.

But perhaps the most memorable fishing of the week took place with my oldest daughter on the Connecticut River, while my other girls canoed nearby.  Again, the fishing wasn't great, but I was able to share some fine memories and experiences.  We also got a good view of what should have been my largest Connecticut River largemouth bass ever (over five pounds, easily), just before it threw my popper at the side of the canoe.  The best part; I'd just told her the tale of my largest Connecticut River largemouth bass; caught 30 years ago or so, probably from within 10 feet from where I'd just encountered this lost fish.  Ahhhhhh, fishing!

My next cast produced an acrobatic smallie.  It was big enough to interesting, caught on a top-water from one of favorite bodies of water, with all my favorite girls.  Giant Bass, Personal Bests and so forth are nice, but it doesn't really take too much to make me truly happy.  And I'm glad I can recognize that.

Air-borne smallie!

Boat-side antics!

Numenon in hand; in many ways.

The Learning Curve

I’d like to think that I can claim to be a life-long learner.  I’ve taken a hiatus or two, but otherwise I’ve always been pretty busy at functioning at a generally acceptably high level, reading worthwhile stuff, collecting skills, increasing self-awareness, and seeking general self-improvement.  Without doubt, many of these efforts have probably been misdirected, and in some cases, fruitless.  But I’m no slacker, and my utility to friends, family and society has probably increased over the years.   Along the way I’ve accumulated a diverse array of experiences and memories, some of which might even make me occasionally helpful or interesting to others.  

One of the great things about fishing is that it offers unlimited potential for improvement.  Whether it’s new waters, new habitats, new species of fish, more fish, bigger fish, new tactics and tackle,  or competing in tournaments, there’s always a broad horizon of opportunities and challenges to take on.

Most of the discretionary part of my youth was spent acquiring the knowledge, skills and tackle to become a competent bass fisherman.  Those pursuits took me into my thirties, but I reached a point where, given the amount of time I had available for the pursuit, I wasn’t getting much better at it.  I kind of knew what to expect from any given bass outing, and one season was pretty much seeming like the last.  I wasn’t exactly bored with my fishing efforts (I do love bass fishing), but I have to admit that golf held a strange attraction for me at the time.

Unlike my teenaged Rhode Island, West Michigan has diverse, quality fishing opportunities.  I'd always enjoyed my occassional walleye, brown trout and shore-bound pier/river salmon excursions that spiced up my fishing, but it wasn’t until I mounted a single down-rigger on Mrs. Paul and tried my hand at Lake Michigan salmon fishing that my passion for fishing re-ignited.  I’m willing to bet that the salmon fishing in August of 1995 was worthy of “Best Ever” status, because week after week, despite limited tackle and knowledge, I was getting enough action and enjoying enough success on the lake to think about little else (in terms of recreational pursuits.)  Fishing mostly by myself, and pretty much blind (without a GPS, speed indicator, temperature probe, or even a depth sounder capable of reaching the bottom), I encountered good numbers of fish of impressive size.  And these fish pulled drag!

I don't think I was obsessed, but most other types of fishing fell off to the wayside over the next few years.  More and more time and money got spent on the pursuit of Great Lakes Trolling Excellence.  I added many new presentation options to my repertoire, and I soon out-grew Mrs. Paul.  Along came Numenon, with more space, new electronics and longer range.  With all these new toys, tips and tricks at my disposal, plus the fact that I continued to learn from just about every trip, if not every fish, I was motivated enough to equate "Fishing" with "Great Lakes Trolling".

At about the same time, I was able to seasonally access and learn a viable striped bass fishery.  These quickly taught me that many of my freshwater skills and tactics weren't quite up to snuff.  Combined, I was now catching (and expecting) more, larger, stronger, meaner fish with a variety of tactics.  Instead of knowing what to expect, there were constant surprises and choices to be made.  Fishing had become something beyond the act itself; there was endless balancing, exploration, learning and application; it was more than the simple sum of skills, tackle and time.  Fishing had become much more than a past time, it was an avid pursuit, it was now a true avocation.

I was exposed to an early theory in ecological studies that became known as the “Optimal Foraging Theorem.”  (Before I go any further, let me apologize to any of my former professors or ecological cohorts for any miss-statement I might make here.)  Optimal Foraging basically stated that, in heterogeneous environments with varying resource availability, an individual spending only enough time gathering food in place so as to exceed the average foraging success rate would ultimately come out ahead.  The individual could sample different environments, get a sense of rates of return, and focus only in those areas of good (i.e., better than average) returns.  The benefit is in staying “ahead of the curve” and therefore assuring better than average performance.  All cannot be above average all of the time, but there’s nothing to say that we can't be smart about our choices.  

Science!  It takes time to have initial success, but then you learn quickly.  But don't stick  with the same tactics, because your returns will diminish!

And so for many of the last few years, I’ve focused my efforts on the best available quality bite at a given time.  This has been my version of my Optimal Fishing Theorem, and by fishing for the "hot" species at the "right" time, I can stay with above-average opportunities all year round.  My fishing always at least has a chance of being above average.

Another ecological concept in my approach to fishing is sustaining a maximum return for my efforts.  As we master an activity, our rate of improvement diminishes; by constantly trying new species and tactics, I may have missed out on overall mastery of one approach; but I'm constantly learning new applications and being exposed to new experiences.  No more Same Old/Same Old, but rather each trip has the potential for offering something new.

Science!

And now there’s musky fishing.  I can’t really claim that these efforts are in any logical way, optimizing my chances of success.  But I will say that I've recently learned more and taken greater/quicker  strides towards competency than in other fishing effoerts.  So I’ll hang on to the steepest part of my Learning Curve (Return vs. Effort) as hard as I can.  Simple calculus indicates that this is where the fruits of my efforts are “optimum”.

I’m not really sure what my relationship with Rates of Return says about me.   After all, ”When the going gets tough, the Tough get going,” and it kind of seems like I’m more interested in improvement that in actual total performance.  Given recent political interest in metrics, and my sincere belief that this is a dangerous and misleading lesson when applied to school performance, future opportunity, etc., I'm not really proud to say I'd rather enjoy improving as opposed to being awesome.  But I am enjoying this most recent ascent of The Learning Curve.  Thinking back on my recent musky exploits, it simply makes me smile.

Smile!  Numenon's first legal, targeted muskellunge.