Muskie Fever’s Got Me

Lake St. Clair muskie guide Steve Van Assche with a muskie weighting between 35 and 40 pounds.
photo courtesy Steve Van Assche

Muskies have been a preferred fishing species of mine for more years than I can remember, and in many states plus Ontario and Quebec, and it’s my strong belief they are the most unpredictable, ornery, cantankerous and frustrating fresh water game fish in North America.

They hit well one day, but may then go several days before they decide to hit again. Sometimes they will follow a lure to the boat, look it over and sink out of sight with total disdain.

The result can be a bit like a baseball game. No hits, no runs, no errors, but in this case, no fish either.
Muskies are born with a nasty disposition, and they never seem to lose it.

They are finicky to an extreme, and each day the angler fishes, he believes this will be the one day he has waited all his life for. Once the day ends without a muskie or a strike, most anglers become mildly dejected. Some even quit fishing.

That soon passes as fishermen assume the philosophy: Well, maybe they will hit tomorrow. Sometimes they do but more often than not, they do not.

Muskie Fever affects different people in oddly different ways. It’s difficult for non-fishermen to understand that year after year, muskie fans will return to their favorite waters with high expectations. All they want is one legal muskie, but unless one fishes Michigan’s Lake St. Clair, that can be as lofty a goal as hitting the Lotto jackpot.

Lake St. Clair, on the Michigan-Ontario border, is the lake of choice for many catch-and-release muskie anglers. Many of these fish are caught trolling, and that’s fine. However, some anglers will stand and cast crankbaits, jerkbaits and spinnerbaits until their arm wears out.
For this latter group, catching a legal muskellunge is one of fishing’s most difficult pursuits. It’s even more difficult to catch a legal fish, but Lake St. Clair is producing some 50-inch fish. Anyone who has fished for muskies more than once know that a fish that size doesn’t come
along very often.

Stand-up casting has been my forte for many years, and I enjoy pitching a big plug or spinnerbait out, time after time, and it’s important to note a following fish can be as meaningful to some anglers as catching one.

Trolling is a terrific way to catch Lake St. Clair muskies, and I’ve had days with Captain Steve VanAssche of Harrison Township (586-783-8985) where our crew has landed over 20 muskellunge in one day. Some are smaller than legal size, some are just legal, and on occasion a fish weighing 30 or more pounds is caught. Planning ahead for a big fish is a waste of time. Put in enough hours, and you may catch a 30-pounder. Fish more often, and a 40-pounder is conceivable, and on odd occasions, some lucky angler may land a larger trophy.

The trick with trolling is using planer boards, and three lines are legal in Michigan waters while only one line per angler can be used in Ontario. Put six people aboard a boat, and you have six or 12 lines out, depending on where you fish, and it increases the odds of hooking a nice fish.

Trolling produces more fish but large fish can be caught by casting.

Muskie lures are basically large, and small ones are six inches long while large lures can be nine to 12 inches or longer. Oddly enough, Lake St. Clair produces some good fishing from the Fourth of July through October and November, depending on weather conditions. I’ve been on the lake on several occasions in truly bad weather, and it isn’t any fun.

The lake is large and shallow, and eight-foot waves are not uncommon, and the waves tend to run close together. This can lead to slow and easy trips back to the dock. The International boundary runs basically down the middle of the lake, but fishing laws are vigorously enforced on both sides of the border. It’s wise to plug in the boundary on your GPS unless you have Michigan and Ontario licenses.

There are any number of good trolling lures. The Wyle us a good plug, as are Homer LeBlanc’s Swim Whiz and other similar lures like muskie sized Rapalas.

Noted muskie angler Larry Ramsell with a 43-pounf Great Lakes muskellunge from Munuscong Bay in the Upper Peninsula.
photo courtesy Larry Ramsell

Casting anglers have a wider choice of lures. They can buzz spinnerbaits or bucktails fast over the tops of weedbeds.

Depth Raiders, sinking Rapalas, muskie sized Rebels work well, and Dardevles and Red-Eyes produce, but there are many other lures that will work.

The stand-up-and-cast angler is a glutton for self-inflicted punishment. He or she will stand, hour after hour, and make one cast after another. If a following fish is seen but doesn’t hit, they try a different lure or different color. No hits, they return every two hours in hopes of raising the fish again. Do it often enough, and a fish may hit.

They do a Figure 8 or Letter J rod-tip movement with the underwater lure at the side of the boat at the end of every cast, and once in a great while this method will produce a strike. It’s been my experience that most muskies that hit near the boat are never seen until they arrow up from bottom and slam the bucktail or other lure. It can be pretty spectacular,

My best time for catching muskies is between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m.

There are numerous good muskie lakes in Michigan for the angler that prefers to cast. Budd Lake at Harrison is a good bet, as is Skegemog Lake near Traverse City. Other lakes near Skegemog that produce the occasional muskie include Elk, Intermediate and Torch.

Lac Vieux Desert on the Michigan-Wisconsin border is a great lake and noted for its big fish. Iron Lake in Iron County produces some big fish, and Munuscong Bay in Chippewa County is another steady producer.
Indian River between Burt and Mullet lakes produces some fish. Long Lake at Traverse City produces very few muskies but those that are caught here will weigh 30 pounds or more.

Muskie fishing can be an addiction. What anglers become addicted to is not the fish as much as that heart-stopping strike, the feeling of tremendous power as a big fish strips heavy line off the reel, and the effort required to pump that hooked fish off bottom.
Sometimes the muskie will come to the boat, open his mouth, and the big lure will fall out. The fish slowly sinks from sight, and that hooks the angler again. We fish muskies, not just for the fish but for the adrenalin rush that comes when we have a solid hook-up.

The only cure for this malady is to go fishing again and again. The more time an angler spend on the water, the greater his chance for success. Muskie, slimy and ugly, grab hold of our emotions and only death or infirmity rids us of this passion.

The fish that becomes and addiction

The

Dave Richey plays a big Lake St. Clair muskie.

Muskies have been a preferred species of mine for many years, in many states and the Provinces of Ontario and Quebec, and it’s my sincere belief they are the most unpredictable, ornery and cantankerous and unpredictable fresh water game fish in North America.

They may hit well one day, but may go several days before they decide to hit again. Sometimes they will follow a lure to the boat, look it over and sink out of sight with total disdain.

The result can be something like a baseball game. No hits, no runs, no errors, and no fish either.

There is very little about muskie fishing that is easy. Most of it is hard work.

Muskies are finicky, and each day the angler fishes, he just knows this will be the one he has waited for all his life. Once the day ends without a muskie or a strike, most anglers become mildly dejected.

That soon passes as fishermen assume the philosophy: Well, maybe they will hit tomorrow. Sometimes they do but more often than not, they won’t.

Muskie Fever affects different people in oddly different ways. It’s difficult for non-fishermen to understand, and year after year, muskie fans return to their favorite waters with high expectations. All they want is one legal muskie, but unless one fishes Lake St. Clair, that can be as lofty a goal as hitting the Lotto jackpot.

Lake St. Clair is the lake of choice for many catch-and-release muskie anglers. Many of the fish are caught trolling, and that’s fine. However, some anglers will stand and cast crankbaits, jerkbaits and spinnerbaits until their arm wears out.

For this latter group, catching a legal muskellunge is one of fishing’s most difficult pursuits. It’s even more difficult to catch a legal fish, but Lake St. Clair is producing some 50-inch fish but anyone who has fished for muskies before knows that a fish that size doesn’t come along very often.

Stand-up casting has been my forte for many years, and I enjoy pitching a big plug or spinnerbait out, time after time, and noting a following fish can be as meaningful as catching one.

Trolling with in-line planer boards is the best bet for Lake St. Clair muskies; here's Al Stewart with a 30-pounder.

Trolling is a terrific way to catch Lake St. Clair muskies, and I’ve had days with Captain Steve VanAssche of Harrison Township where our crew has landed over 20 muskellunge in one day. Some are smaller than legal size, some are just legal, and on occasion a fish weighing 30 or more pounds is caught.

The trick with trolling is using planer boards, and three lines are legal in Michigan waters while only one line per angler can be used in Ontario. Put six people aboard a boat, and you have six or 12 lines out, depending on where you fish, and it increases the odds of hooking fish.

The stand-up-and-cast angler is a glutton for punishment. He or she will stand, hour after hour, and make one cast after another. If a following fish is seen but doesn’t hit, they try a different lure or different color. No hits, they return every two hours in hopes of raising the fish again.

They do a Figure 8 or Letter J rod-tip movement with the lure at the side of the boat at the end of every cast, and once in a great while this method will produce a strike. It’s been my experience that most muskies that hit are never seen until they arrow up from bottom and slam the bucktail or other lure.

Michigan has many good muskie waters but Lake St. Clair is the nation’s best.

There are numerous good muskie lakes in this state for the angler that prefers to cast for them. Budd Lake at Harrison is a good bet, as is Skegemog Lake near Traverse City. Other lakes near Skegemog that produce the occasional muskie include Elk, Intermediate and Torch.

Lac Vieux Desert on the Michigan-Wisconsin border is a great lake and noted for its big fish. Iron Lake in Iron County produces some big fish, and Munuscong Bay in Chippewa County is another steady producer.

Indian between Burt and Mullett lakes produces some fish. Long Lake at Traverse City produces very few muskies but those that are landed often weigh 30 pounds or more.

Muskie fishing can be an addiction. What anglers become addicted to is not the fish as much as that heart-stopping strike, the feeling of power as a big fish strips heavy line off the reel, and the effort required to pump that hooked fish off bottom.

Sometimes that muskie will come to the boat, open his mouth, and the big lure will fall out. The fish slowly sinks from sight, and that hooks the angler again. We fish muskies, not just for the fish, but for the adrenalin rush that comes when we have a solid hook-up.

The only cure for this disease is to go fishing again. Muskie, slimy and ugly, grab hold of our emotions and only death or infirmity rids us of this malady.

A Platte Bay Reunion

The waterspout dipped down out of a nasty looking storm cloud over East Platte Bay  that day, and we watched the water-borne tornado for two minutes before it lifted off the water and disappeared back into the black clouds.

"Neat," said Jack Duffy of Leland. "I've seen a fair number of them while chartering out of Leland for lake trout and salmon, but I've never seen one on Platte Bay."

The waterspout was the spice that comes from spending time with a good friend, outdoors at a location that we both truly love, and we were there ostensibly to fish for steelhead off the Platte River mouth. Actually, fishing for steelhead was just an excuse for the two of us to get together to spend part of a day at a place that holds many dear memories for both of us. This episode happened two or three years ago, and I just remembered it.

Late-fall can be a good or bad time for steelhead off the Platte River.

Duffy and I have been friends for more than 40 years, and we pioneered brown trout fishing back in the late 1960s and early 1970s when he lived in Midland and I lived in Clio. We fished those brown trout hard, and caught hundreds of fish to 20 pounds at a time when no one knew they existed, and then one day Lady Luck smiled and he caught a 31 1/2-pound brown that set a state record.

He was the only guy I know who  has caught a coaster brook trout off the Platte River mouth, and it weighed about five pounds. We've seen the Platte Bay fishery rise and fall over all of these years, and whenever we return to fish, we are really returning to a place where some great fishing dreams once came true. Granted, that doesn't mean that new dreams can't be realized but the  fish simply are not there in heavy numbers as they once were.

Duffy had two lines out with spawnbags fished just off bottom in the river current. It's a technique we've used all these years to catch steelhead, but the fish seemed conspicuous by their absence. They lay out there drifting with the river current, and nothing bothered them. He was using an old Shakespeare rod that he used to catch his former state-record brown trout in an attempt to relive some of his old memories.

Casting small spoons sometimes pays off but not on this day.

I cast Devle Dogs in several colors by wading out into the lake and casting into deep water. Enough casts were made to make my shoulder sore, and there were no hits, no runs and I made no errors. The steelhead, if any were present, were not interested in our offerings.

We discussed the places we fished in Platte Bay for browns, and noted that the Lombardi poplars that once lined the shoreline of  East Platte Bay are mostly gone now. They provided great landmarks at a time when landmarks played an important role in fishing. Duffy, like me, has aged and those memories of long ago are important to both of us. We discussed, in depth, the many brown trout we'd caught trolling on the bay.

We'd wade  into the surf, and I'd cast my lures  while he checked his spawnbags and replaced them with a new one. My lures were switched, and fan-casting them and varying retrieval speeds and sinking times were tried. The steelhead ignored our offerings as if there wasn't a fish in the area.

Our stories were told, we caught up on each others families, and discussed his chartering business and my writing business,  and decided that we are both fortunate to have a vocation and avocation that is the same: fishing. Duffy pulled his first line, and we were wrapping things up. We had shared yet another precious memory from this hallowed spot by seeing the waterspout.

He grabbed the other rod, and felt a slight pull, and I heard that old familiar squeaky voice I remember from nearly four decades ago: "There's a fish  hitting this spawnbag," he squeaked, giving the fish a bit of line. "He's taking more line out. Watch out there when I set the hook."

The rod tip came back, and the fish was hooked. We then talked about how many last-minute fish he and I have caught while fishing together, and it's a large number. The fish ripped off a bunch of six-pound line, jumped twice, all bright silver and glittery in the pale sunlight. Again the fish jumped, and he began working the fish back only to have it take out more line.

Slowly, and gradually with a minimum of pressure, the mint-silver steelhead started to lose the battle. Duffy played the fish gently, and led the fish up to the beach to a gentle landing. It was a hen steelhead with a small head and bright silvery flanks, and little did she know but this fish was the climax to another in a long line of unforgettable days we've shared.

A typical Lake Michigan brown trout like this were common may years ago.

Really, what can top a morning of fishing the surf of Platte Bay, remembering my brother George getting hooked in the head by an angler who only knew how to cast sidearm. We removed the hooks, and the wound bled hard, but it finally stopped, and we continued fishing. We discussed the big browns we once caught like they were hatchery trout, and we recalled those days, like today, when we had the whole area to ourselves.

We recalled. with great relish, that there is much more to fishing than catching fish. That one steelhead was about six pounds but it was the capstone to a wonderful day filled with great camaraderie, grand memories of other earlier times, and one nice fish. Seeing the waterspout was simply a bonus.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors