Local Lake

TP and I hit a local lake.  It was time to fish out of the Aluminum Falcon and see if there might be a musky or bass or something willing to eat.

The evening was perfect, and so thought everyone else.  Mush to our chagrin, the lake was pretty chopped up from props and milfoil.

Despite the outlook, the boat ran great and the evening was spent hucking 10 weights to pockets of open water.

A beer or two may have been extracted from Mr T's cooler which gave us a small bit of solace for not getting a grab.

Inspired

It was at the garage gathering a few weeks ago that JH showed up with a mitt full of musky flies.  Beautiful ties...all of them.  After 25 years of tying I've never really sat down to tie a musky fly.

I'll say this, you aren't going to tie a dozen in an hour.  I'll also mention that materials that I've had on hand for decades were depleted in just a couple of flies.  Nothing like burning through the inventory.

Thanks for the nudge JH.

Go...

If you are ever the guy that gets a call for the "guides day off" trip and you don't go...you are out of your ever-loving-mind.

Mr T, wanted to take a "pre-client run" and asked me to go along with him and his buddy CS.

Boy am I ever glad I am not out of my "ever-loving mind".

Winter Steelheading on a Trout Crick

Do you know what the difference is between yesterday's trout fishing and winter steelheading?

Nothing.

The morning unfolded and after baby chickens and cased pork like product was consumed I shot MK a message and asked him about the day.

He said he was going....I said I was going.

We met at the creek and peered into 6-8" of visibility and promptly decided to throw (in MK's vernacular) "Junk".

Quarter down, mend up, swing, strip retrieve, repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.

On a stream where the best option most days is tied on a size 18 hook, the 4" long marabou string leech I was throwing was indeed looking like "Junk".  MK's pattern of choice was directly out of Kelly Galloup's play book and I am certain that we were both sending 8" fish fleeing in fright.

We worked upstream, leapfrogging to the heads of runs and then fishing back down.
Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.

After a numbing two hours, I pitched across a shallow gravel bar, threw a mend and waited for the line to come tight for yet another swing.  The line came tight in a long downstream belly and when I lifted the rod tip to free the fly from the shallow gravel where I assumed it got hung up, the rod bucked, the water frothed and I got a sneak peak at a nice 16"-17" brown before it came unpinned and I stood there looking (and feeling) like a complete stupe.

1 shot.
1 fail.

It's a good thing I have been practicing this sort of think for 24 years and that I spent the entire winter dreaming of this opportunity so that I could be on my "A" game when I finally got the chance.

Or Not.

The temps continued to drop and I wished that I had thrown on the other jacket under my rain jacket.
At least I had the brains to bring the rain jacket.

Because it started to rain.
Cold rain.

I stood, in the cold rain, swinging junk catching nothing and blowing the only shot I had.
Which is just like winter steelheading.

Before it was all over I'd missed 3 more fish, landed a small one and also hooked and landed a decent fish.

The good fish instantly warmed my fingers and my soul.

Just like winter steelheading.

Invitation Accepted

Just to Clarify:
When a buddy asks if you want to go out and fish Muskies in his boat while he rows...Say yes.

If you offer to take the sticks for awhile and he says "no, I'm good, keep fishing", just turn around and keep casting. 

But know that you will owe him some beer eventually.

If the same guy accidentally bumps the anchor lock and rows for 30 minutes dragging the rock, while he pretends that the rowing doesn't absolutely suck...
...keep casting because you can get at least 3 shots at the good looking spots. 

But NEVER, NEVER, EVER tell anybody it happened or post it in your blog or you will risk never getting invited on board again.

Special Thanks to MK for taking me out in his Clacka and letting me cast.  We attracted (but didn't land) a few crazy bass that took on our 10" flies and otherwise had a great time trying to convince a musky to eat, chase or follow...with no success. 

A finer fishless evening couldn't have been had.

MK, I hope you feel the same.

Bonk Mentality....in the house.

MK on the sticks...all night.

No size 16's in here....

Heave...

...Ho

Musky on the fly

And so it came to pass that despite being certain that I didn't have the time to attend the fall pilgrimage to the Brule for fall Steelhead, I did get sold on a fall Musky trip to the same neck of the woods.  I drove all night after walking the trick or treat beat with my terribly cute daughters in search of processed sugar items.  I arrived under the roof of none other than Shox McSteel at midnight.  He offered up a fridge cold Hamm's and I obliged.  In bed by 1, alarm set for 6:30.   His basement guestroom sleeps well.  Here is what else happened: