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Created by Scott McKee Oct 31, 2018 at 1:09pm. Last updated by Scott McKee Oct 31, 2018.

Thank you, Jay!

This site is sponsored by NMA Member Jay Nannen.

A little time on the water.

My opener was delayed, for reasons beyond my control. I think only the second opener I’ve missed since 1980. Once I was on a vacation.  But I finally got out yesterday for a day (well, a morning) on the water.

My main goal was simply to make sure everything worked right. Only had the boat out once this year. Back in April.  Hopefully the motors still start.

Got up when I awoke at 5am. Checked the weather forecast (hot and sunny) and made my coffee (very important). Pulled the boat out of the garage and hitched it to my Ford Escape. No problems with that. Laid down some muskie rods and lure boxes which I had placed in the boat a few weeks ago in anticipation of fishing this year, but never organized them like I should. Grabbed a few bottles of water, a box of granola bars, my phone, and my keys. Don’t need much else.  Oh, I almost forgot the muskie net. Hopefully, I’ll need it. Started the car, checked the trailer lights, and off I went.

I live only three miles from the foot of Sheridan, where I have a season’s launching pass. I get a senior citizen’s discount. Don’t really feel like a senior, but do have some aches and pains and other paraphernalia I didn’t have when I was younger. When I pulled into the Sheridan Boat Launch parking lot there was only one other boat trailer there. It was about 6am, and I was surprised there weren’t more on such a beautiful morning – sunny with a few high clouds and light westerly winds.  Undid my boat straps, unplugged the trailer lights, screwed in the boat plug, and pulled the boat to the ramp. No problem backing the trailer into the water just enough for the boat to lift slightly off the trailer. Jumped out of the car, reached for the boat’s dock ropes, pulled it the rest of the way off the trailer, and tied it to the dock. I prefer the dock farther down current and away from the wall, it always has less weeds. Drove the trailer out of the ramp, parked it, and returned to the boat.

By the time I returned to the boat another trailer pulled up. Another lone angler, older fellow, but spry with gray hair and beard. Vaguely familiar boat, I thought. He said “Morning”, and I responded in kind as I stepped into my boat and started to organize my gear. “Nobody fishes anymore”, he said, referencing the lack of trailers in the lot. “That is true”, I said, “When I fished back in the 70s and 80s there were a lot more fishermen”.  “Same thing with hunting”, he added.

“What are you fishing for this morning?” the angler asked. “Muskies” I replied. “I know the weather isn’t the best for it today, but I haven’t been out much this year, so I thought I’d give it a try”.

His eyes lit up a bit when I said “muskies”. “Back in the eighties I used to catch lots of muskies jigging” motioning towards the triangle. Yes, of course, I thought but didn’t say. I used to see you jigging all the time in the triangle back then. A bit ironic, I thought. But I only said “Yeah, I’ll probably do some jigging today; I’m loaded with big tubes”.

As he started backing his boat from the dock, “Back in the eighties Muskie Inc. tagged over 600 muskies in the river” he said. Yes I know, I thought but did not say, you were its President. ”And the real surprising thing was that two of them were re-caught in the lower river”, he continued. I tried to appear slightly impressed, but I’ve known these things for a long time. I’ve known of this man a long time. He led the local catch and release effort back in the 1970s and early 1980s. I have great respect for him. We corresponded many years ago. I’m familiar with the history of the local Muskies, Inc. Disbanded because they believed that back then too many anglers wanted to learn how to catch muskies but weren’t really interested in releasing them. “A little knowledge was a dangerous thing”, I was told (or “loose lips sinks ships”), way too often.

Good luck, I said as he pulled his boat away. He never said what he would be fishing for.

I put my key in the ignition and cranked it once, twice, three times. No luck. A couple more times holding it longer. Finally the joy of power – the motor still starts. I let the engine run while I organized my gear. Wouldn’t need those bass rods, so I put them in the rod locker. Don’t want the temptation. This will be exclusively a muskie day.  Stood four muskie rods, two casting and two trolling, in the stand I have at the front of the boat. Found room for the lure boxes in various storage areas. Backed the boat from the ramp, shifted forward, and gradually accelerated.  Everything was working fine.

Ran the boat to the Frenchman’s area, where I stopped and started drifting. First order of protocol was to call CamPass. Have the number on my phone’s quick dial. After selecting “English” as my language, I was quickly routed to an officer. A pleasant female voice asked for my boat registration. After providing the number, “You are Anthony?” she asked. “Yes” I replied. Anyone else with you?” she asked. “No, I’m alone”. She proceeded to ask a litany of questions about firearms, goods, money, tobacco, money, etc. all of which I answered in the negative. She never asked for my passport number. I assume because they already have it either from last year or more recent land crossings into Canada. She provided me an identification number and “Have a good day”.  “Thankyou”, I said.

Now I was ready to fish. Positioned the boat off of Frenchman’s and started to drift. Grabbed a nine-foot Shimano trolling rod I rigged for drifting with a Calcutta reel. I would start with a black ninja tube. If it was good enough for Marc Arena it was good enough for me. And I am of the belief that color is mostly irrelevant.

I drifted for a while with nothing happening. But it didn’t really matter, I thought. It was just good to be on the water on this beautiful morning. It was good to absorb the warmth, the sun, the breeze.  As I drift, reverie tends to become overwhelming. So much time I’ve spent here, on this river. With so many friends, family, and my dog Charlie (who fished with me for over 14 years).  Some gone forever, others moved far away. Drifting on the river, muskie fishing especially, so much a metaphor for me. Like Tom Sawyer’s Mississippi. Without it, I don’t think I would bother. Drifting the trials and tribulations. The long periods of tedium. The hard fruitless work. The brief moments of ecstasy.  Where will the drift take me next? The exploration. The storms. The calm. I love the rain, the wind, the cold. I love the calm, sunny days. It’s good to breath the river air. It’s so good to be alive, if only so briefly in the midst of the eons of time, infinite space. It’s good to be here. A spec, where, but it’s our spec. Our special place never to be again. Unique. So who needs to catch a fish?

But it’s been an hour with nary a nibble. So it’s time to move and to try another drift.  

A long drift through the triangle. I look around. The river is almost empty. Little signs of human life. The distance hum of a boat motor.  Again, nothing doing. Time to move again.

I run up to Thompsons Hole. A few boats fishing the back eddy. They look like bass anglers. I start a down current drift. A few minutes into the drift I feel a bite. I set the hook. I have a fish on. It comes off. Damn, I think. I reel in to make sure. Yes, slashes adorn the previously virginal tube. Keep drifting. Bad snag. Need to use the boat cleat to dislodge it. Check the hooks. Sharpen the front hook and bend it back down, flattening the barb. Continue the drift. Another take. Set the hook. Keep a bend in the rod. Crank down pull up crank down pull up. The fish is staying on and seems to have weight. Turn on the GoPro. Crank down and pull up. Keep the bend in the rod. This fish has weight.  POP. It’s gone. The ecstasy and the agony. Comes all so quickly in muskie fishing. Should have left the GoPro alone. God I suck. Should put a small treble at the top front of the tube. I knew that. But I feared it would collect too much moss. And this section of the river was mossy. Damn, sometimes I hate this sport. But I know that if I keep drifting good things will come. Or so I believe.

But the only thing that came on this drift was another’s line with a new walleye rig and a load full of moss. Which stunk.  Literally.  And figuratively.

Time to move. Start a drift mid-river across from the Black Rock Lock towards Strawberry Island.  As I near the island another bite! Not too big, but big enough. A small muskie? I see it. Maybe 30 inches. Oh, no. Thirty inches, yes. But not a muskie. A Walleye. I hate this sport.

Good thing I like being on the water, I think. Muskie fishing gives me an excuse for being on the water. I need to be on the water.

My body seemed to be tiring. Or maybe my spirit. I need to relax. A nice long troll, I think would help.  I haven’t trolled since last November, and only once in almost 12 months. Need to give my kicker a little work.

I run up to the Black Rock Lock area. Pull at the kicker. After a few attempts it starts. Start a down current troll. Two rods. One pulling a Mr. Toothy in bumblebee. The other a Legend Perchbait, Tennessee Shad.  The troll from here to the former Holiday Inn on Grand Island usually produces a fish or two. I troll past Strawberry. Troll past Motor. Occasionally reeling in the lures to clean them of weeds and moss, which aren’t really that bad. Troll past a buoy. A rod starts singing that wonderful song: zzz, zzz, zzzzzzzz. I grab the rod. FISH ON! Not real big, but not too small. I stop the motor. Fight the fish to the boat. Low to mid-30s. But it makes me happy. The fish is hooked well. But badly. Three hooks in the soft flesh in the throat area below the jaw. Cut all those hooks and one in the upper jaw. The fish swims away. Only eyeball measurement.  Still concerned about the hooks in the fleshy area, but I think all the remnants came out. But took longer than an easy hook-out.

But honestly, it was good to catch a muskie. Especially after losing two earlier. Trolled to the former  Holiday Inn without further ado. Then a tube drift above and below the Grand Island Bridge. Things are quiet. It’s around noon, but nary a boat on this warm, sunny Thursday. I like it.

Wind is picking up. Seems like one of those days where you might be able to catch a fish sporadically throughout the day. But I must leave. At the boat launch there were only three trailers in the lot. Strangely empty.

Plan to return.

Because I need to be on the water.  I love this sport.

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Great day on the water brother.
Great report.
Made my work day a lot better.
I also feel the need and the love of the river.
She has been calling me.
I must get out this week, the best part of our club tourney.
It makes me make time!
Good luck to all this week.
Can't wait for some more awesome
Reports.
Alabalabala jojoout

Dammm, Tony.  It makes me want to pack up the boat right now & get on the water.  When my sons were young, I used to tell them that going fishing isn't about catching fish, especially when we got skunked.  Now that they're on their own & I fish without them, I found out that the old man was right all along.  It really isn't about catching fish.

And sunrises on the water?  Hope you got to see it that day.  Nothing better than watching it peak up over the tree line.

Tony, if I handed out a prize for fishing report of the year (maybe I should) this post would be in the lead. Did you fall asleep reading Moby Dick before this trip? As a small stakeholder in your boat spending about 80 hours a year on it up north, you had me riveted during the whole motor ignition process. Wonderful report.
Fantastic report!

Absolutely fantastic post Tony.  Thanks for sharing with us.  This is the kind of post that will keep us all going during the cold winter months.  You have a wonderful gift...please keep sharing.

“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. 
I am haunted by waters.” 
― Norman MacleanA River Runs Through It and Other Stories

Great read

A real nice post.  Wish I had a cup of coffee to go along with reading it.  I went out Saturday 7/9 and got cleared by that pleasant gal at Canpass.  Drifted with tubes at Thompsons and down stream.  Moss not too bad.  Got hung up for an instant but reeled in to clean some moss off when I noticed a bunch of slashes on a brand new tube. Guess I was asleep at the switch and missed one. What's new??? 0 for 1 is better than 0 for 0. I'll pay more attention next time. Out.

Frank...are you sure you (and Lenny(?)) weren't in the middle of splitting a pickled egg or a bag of oatmeal/raisin cookies?

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