The gray sky leaves a dismal feel in the air like something is going to happen. Like there’s something watching you, lurking just below you, watching your every move, waiting for the perfect prey to present itself.
Will we see the notorious fish of 10,000 casts today? Will we fool one into thinking that our fly is the perfect prey? Will we hold this elusive fish in our hands in victory? Or will we go home in defeat?
Day one
We’re excited and anxious. We’ve thought about this trip to northern Maine for weeks. We’re hoping to land one of Maine’s most elusive fish. The fish of 10,000 casts is in our crosshairs, and we’re ready to hold this predator in our hands, a muskie.
As we approach our target spot, we slow the boat and get rods ready. It doesn’t take long to see it was going to be a tough day of fishing. The wind is blowing and the skies are overcast and gray. The water is murky from the rain a few days earlier.
Not your typical ideal fishing conditions, but we’re talking muskie, which changes everything. Forget typical. Muskies are tough and unpredictable. We make a few casts and soon see the effect the new fly has on the muskie.
I was stripping in my fly fairly fast. It came into sight, and I could see a fish, well over 40 inches, following my fly, its nose almost touching the fly. I do my “figure 8” but no take. I look at my son Jax and tell him what just happened and show him my hands. They are shaking. There is nothing like it. We fish for several more hours with seven more follows but no eats. Day one goes to the muskie.
Day 2
We change it up a little and head to a lake. It’s an hour away, so we are on the road by 4 a.m.
We cross the lake and make our way deep into the back side of the lake where most can’t reach. We’re hoping to get to waters less fished. We fish the shore, then the middle of the lake, rotating every cast. We have some small fish follow but nothing big.
Cast, strip, figure 8, repeat. After a couple of strips Jax’s fly sinks into something. He thinks it’s a log, but his instincts are telling him to set the hook so he does. The log starts to move and a fight ensues. I soon realize my net is too small. The log turns out to be a muskie taping out at 37 inches. A 3-foot fish!
We end up with seven follows and one fish landed for day two. Not bad for a day of muskie fishing. With one day left Jax and I are tired and beat up.
Day 3
It’s 6 a.m. and overcast, the wind has picked up and a light rain has begun. We can feel the cold air slapping us in the face as we jet up the river.
I am sore and tired. Our fingers are cracked, so we wrap them in hope of saving them from further friction, each strip of the line a little more painful than the last.
I make my first cast and let my fly sink. As it disappears I wonder what may be waiting for it below. After a few strips I can faintly see what appears to be a flash of color coming at me. And I’m relieved that I can actually see the fly.
It isn’t until it is almost to the boat that I can see the olive and gold stripes of a muskie. I quickly go into the figure 8 in hopes the fish will take my fly. Instead I hit the fish in the head with my rod and then it is gone.
Jax has thrown in the towel and is laying in the boat trying to stay warm. I stand on the front of the boat letting the wind blow through me, wondering what I should do. I can’t leave without one last try.
I refocus, check my fly and shoot it out there. I wasn’t going home without a fish. With my renewed determination I wait for my fly to sink. I want to see what is down there, what is watching us.
Can I bring one of these stealthy predators up from the depths with some feathers and flash? I make a strip and I sink the fly into something solid. Not knowing whether it’s a fish or bottom, I set several times anyway.
It doesn’t really move but then I feel it! The weight is heavy, and it moves toward me. My heart is racing, and I forget how sore and tired I am. Fish on!
I yell for Jax to get the net. He is instantly warmed and jumps up. I tell him it’s a big fish. The anticipation is killing me. I want to see what is surfacing from the depths.
We finally get a look at it, and Jax instantly is nervous. We can see that it’s a bigger fish than his from the day before. The fish makes a few big runs before I can get it to the boat. Jax reaches out with the net and scoops it up.
The monster is so big its head and tail are hanging off each side of the net. Feeling like an elephant in the net, I have to help Jax lift it into the boat.
We are able to get it measured and photographed. Muskies are beautiful but have razor-sharp teeth that will split your skin without you even knowing it.
This massive beast tapes out at 42 inches. Not only is it my biggest muskie, it is my biggest fish ever.
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