Apr 5 2010 11:34 pm
Despite intermittent bickering, a muskie trip finally pays dividends. Dividends of mine tailings and agricultural runoff, the exigencies of erosion control and the resulting faux American prairie. A prairie sown of Eurasian grasses, invasive phragmites, the ranging dogs of Linton, and a hope and dread complete.
My brother and I went to this place to catch muskie. My idea was to paddle him around the lake while he hucked giant jerk baits and burned rattling shad along drop offs.
About 10am he landed a pig largemouth on one of the absurd jerk baits. I quite like calling this particular fish Slobby Don Milosevic but everyone else seems to think that's really fucking stupid. I caught a few small largemouth after that on the 6wt. We even saw a muskie cruising in the shallows. Ham sandwiches for lunch. Nice weather. Good day.
After lunch I waded and fished for bass on the edge of a narrow channel as the leading edge of a rather serious storm front blew hard at us with a steady wind. A muskie followed the fly to my feet.
I had grabbed the wiper rig this morning on my way out the door [good subtle idiom]. Maybe I'd get a shot at a muskie? I didn't really plan on it. It's an 8wt with an intermediate line and I didn't have any absurd muskie flies, just a bunch of big Clousers on big hooks, but it was the closest thing to hand so I threw it in the car.
As the muskie swam away I thought perhaps I should ditch the 6wt and 12lb tippet to rig up that 8wt and throw on a wire leader. So I did. On my tenth cast into that channel, I hooked up with my first muskie. You'll get yours soon Adam.