I pictured Jim Reynolds walking up stairs to a stage with Old Glory flying in the background filling my entire peripheral vision with red, white and blue as he gave Jojo and me our long distance musky pep talk this evening. Can you see it? General Jim S. Reynolds wearing a shiny silver helmet, a Gore-Tex uniform festooned with musky medals, an ivory handled pair of Knipex in a hip holster and a scowl that would make hardened men wet themselves a little. "No dumb bastard ever caught a musky by sitting on their couch..."
Jojo and I pounded the living snot out of Strawberry tonight from 5:30pm to 1:00am. We hit every hump a couple of hundred times. We covered every inch of every flat, twice.
Despite General Reynolds checking in on us periodically in the guise of advice and words of encouragement, we didn't manage to catch any muskies.
While working a flat in heavier current my drag briefly ripped. When I grabbed the rod I felt some decent weight. I cranked my drag as I reeled and eventually surfed in whatever had hit my 10" sucker Believer. When Jojo saw the glowing marbles he said "walleye" as he put the net away in disgust.
The swimming fish fry was 30".
Wind, wind and more wind is on the way. See you in the mud next week. Good luck everyone.