Road Trip Wisconsin - Muskie on the fly (with video)

During my second deployment in the Navy working a security detail, a FNG walked up and asked me where he could find a “bulkhead remover”?  Being completely serious, I explained that my department was out but I was sure the Damage Control (DC) department had some.  The DC department was located 10 floors down and on the opposite end of the ship.  

Camp at Moose Lake

In the Navy a “bulkhead” is another name for a wall.  Of course, this was the game that was played on each of us at some point during our early days on a ship and it was my duty to keep him on his quest.  

Changing the spools on 8-10 weights for the afternoon sessions 

View of the lake from camp

Bald Eagles were a daily seen.  Often flying right over my kayak. 

As painful as it is to admit, I’ve been fooled by another wild goose chase.  This time, chasing unicorns.  The elusive and cunning muskie, a fish of 10,000 casts.  I would like to believe they exist but I don’t know anyone that’s caught one.  In fact, I’ve never actually seen one in the water.  Sure, I’ve seen the pictures on Facebook and other social media sites.  I’ve stood in awe of the impressive wall mounts hanging from fly shops and tackle stores.  

St Croix River smallie

I’m convinced it’s a ruse to protect the trophy smallmouth fisheries.  More than likely, it’s purely entertainment purposes.  Like that time your father stuck you in a field to hunt snipe.  Imagine the joy those in the know get from watching you walk into a fly shop and ask for the musky area.  They point over to that one obscure corner of the room that seems completely out of place.  Traditional flies are created to match the hatch.  They appear more natural and resemble what you would find on the water. In contrast, the muskie section looks like it belongs in a store off Bourbon Street.   

Hanging from the ceiling and every nook are huge streamers made of the most obnoxious colors available.  If you’re feeling particularly adventurous, you can purchase your own bright and shiny materials to create your own modern art.  A far cry from matching the hatch and one I think has a more direct purpose, aside from the in-store humor of course! 

On the water, you’ll be the star of the show, clearly seen from a mile away punishing yourself while you wrestle a foot-long fly over your head with a 10 weight.  Over 4 days, I never saw another person throwing those huge Vegas Showgirl streamers.   I did run into several boats that asked me if the muskie were biting in a manner that suggested they already knew the answer.  Almost like I was on the outside of an inside joke.   That moment stuck with me.  Eventually, I figured out the joke.  It’s a myth created by anglers purely for entertainment purposes. 

Upper Mississippi River

High's in the 90's and lows in the 50's made for foggy mornings

If you ever find yourself on the water and you see a guy slinging a chicken that appears to have just participated in "The Color Run", do your part and be sure to continue the tradition.  When he asks, “if the muskie are biting”, show him a picture of a 52 incher, tell him it was taken just a few days ago and explain that the best area is over there while pointing to the other side of the lake.  At least a two-mile paddle away.  Once you’ve figured out the game it’s your responsibility to help others on their path to enlightenment.

For best results open the video on YouTube and watch in 1080/60

The Flash - The Fly Roadtrip part 3

Part 1 here: http://looknfishy.blogspot.com/2016/06/the-fly-roadtrip.html
Part 2 here: http://looknfishy.blogspot.com/2016/07/timing-fly-roadtrip-part-2-ozarks.html

Strip, strip, pause...yep that looks sexy.  The musky/pike fly my buddy handed me just before we left the Ozarks had some moves.  With the right twitch the streamer would dart from side to side.  The nose would swing back and nearly touch the toes.  That's enough practice, time to swim it for real.  Strip it back in real fast, BAM!  From the tanic colored water a dark flash of gold explodes right at the side of the kayak.  My heart almost stopped cold...

What had I gotten myself into?  A few hours before I was waking up to rain in the back of my truck.  I had driven 13 hours to the "Driftless" area in Northeast Iowa.  It was 2 am when I stopped at the Yellow River State Forest park and made a cot camp in the bed of my truck.  The rain started shortly after.

As long as there wasn't any lightening I was fishing.  Only problem was you can't see or get cell service in the ravines.  I could hear the faint rumble in the distance.  It seemed like a storm was moving in on me.  I kept fishing.  Then suddenly the distant rumble became a huge crackling and booming right on top of me.  The "Driftless" had hidden it from me until the last minute.  I'm out!  It wasn't my fastest mile but I feel like it was a respectable time.

      

How does a fish that big move in that fast without being seen?  That was the thought I had as the 30 inch pike vanished beside the kayak.  My next thought was, remember to breath or you'll pass out and be eaten by one of those toothy critters.

Hit the point.  Hit the island.  Hit the downed tree.  Strip, strip, pause, nothing.  Too fast, too slow, not enough movement?   Let it get some depth first.  I should have read more.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  Pick it up, put it down over a point with deep pocket on the back side.  Wait, 7 inches of feathers and fluff can barely be seen swimming across the top of the grass.  Yeah, that looks good.  Jerk the rod tip right, give it a 2 count and do it again.  Nose to toes, pause, the head pulsed.  A flash of gold interrupts the dance.  

I didn't sleep much the first night.  Partly due to the white flashes that lit up the night outside my tent.  Mostly because of the gold flashes that lit up my afternoon.  I guess it was 4 am when a 40 mph wind dropped the left side of my tent.  Thankfully it wasn't raining anymore.

My body was moving slower than usual the next morning.  My mind was on overdrive.  My cell phone tried, unsuccessfully, to distract me.  At some point it was locked by my carrier.  It would take a day to get fixed, but I kept fishing.  I worked it out when I was forced off the water by the numerous lines of storms that would pass throughout the day.  It was both, frustrating and exciting, all at once.

Even now I can't stop thinking about what I'd seen.  How pike suddenly appear from the shadows and attack with a vengeance.  It became hard to look away.  The flash is a rush.  It's addicting.  It's unlike any type of fishing I have done.  You don't see them but you know they're close.  Often appearing right beside the kayak as you pick up.  Then the flash that was unlike the others.  More copper with a hint of red.  It had been a musky and it was a short strike.  My time was over, time to start heading home.  I completely get why musky have such a masochistic following...one more cast, one more hour, one more anything for a chance at a musky!

I had rolled the dice on this part of the trip.  At some point during the chaos I became willing to deal with just about anything.  For 3 days, I dodged storms, paddled out only to return an hour later, threw the Recon 10 wt until my arms burned, got lost on and off the water and sheltered in my truck.  Nothing I owned was dry anymore.  In every sense of the word it, sucked!  Yet, it didn't suck...it was awesome!   I'd do it again tomorrow...or maybe next year if I'm lucky!

 

My 2 week journey on the fly

Here is the video.  I promise to get on here and do a full write up soon.  Looking forward to telling the full tale.  Just need more time to gather pictures!  Until then hope you enjoy these highlights.