Scouting Trips

With the exception of a brief interruption this past weekend, we've had the longest stretch of sunny days that I can remember in all of my 36 Marches.  Thanks to my mom offering to have Luke overnight one night last week and Hayden overnight one night this week, I found myself with a couple of nice days where I only had 2 kids to tote around.  Since I can only fit 2 in the back of my Jeep with their car seats, I jumped on these opportunities to check out the lower end of the Grand River in neighboring Ottawa County.  My first trip took me along the north bank of the river, checking out launches on the side roads off of Leonard Street.  On my second trip I checked out the south bank and got a pretty good look at a couple of my prospective bayous.

I brought Hayden and Lincoln on my first outing.  From what we can tell so far, these two are just about exactly alike.  If they weren't my kids, I'd call them spazzy.  No, you know what?  They are my kids and I can't think of a word in the English language that better describes them.  Case in point; one of their favorite things to do together is scream back and forth.  They take turns yelling in one another's faces, getting louder and louder until I'm able to loosen my clenched jaw and yell, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!  KNOCK IT OFF!"  I'm a calm guy, but when these two are in full swing, they can really get the old man's right eye twitching.  So, with the terrible twins in the backseat and a lot of miles and time to be logged on the road, I knew that things might end up getting pretty hectic.  I promised them McDonald's after we checked out a couple of launches.  I also brought Hayden's Hannah Montana CD along to keep her entertained.

We left the driveway happily bobbing our heads to "Hoedown Throwdown," but by the time we got to "The Climb" we found ourselves stuck in a traffic jam in the middle of downtown Grand Rapids.  As I stared at the rusty bumper of the old Ford van in front of me, I got sucker punched in the back of the head.  "Gungy, Gawgy."  That's Linc-lish for "Hungry, Daddy."  Shoot!  I was in such a hurry to get going I threw the kids in the car without giving them their normal after nap snack.  I had also packed like a dad.  I chucked a couple of diapers and a box of wipes on the passenger seat.  Never gave food a passing thought.  "Hayden, try to distract Lincoln for me."  "I can't, I'm hungry too."  Oh boy.

After about 15 minutes in the parking lot on 131, we finally got rolling.  With the car  moving once again and some new scenery in front of them, the kids luckily forgot about food for the time being.  It was tough going on Leonard until we put a little space between ourselves and the city.  It eventually transformed into a winding 2 lane country road.  We could occasionally see the river down in the flooded valley to our left.  After about 25 minutes on Leonard, we found the first launch.  Deer Creek Park is just west of Lamont near Coopersville.  It's basically some green space, a parking lot, and a launch.  The whole park was under water.  We could only see the tops of the handicap parking signs.  The kids weren't even a little impressed.  Still, I had an idea of how long it would take to get there from my house and I'd now be able to find it in the dark if I decided to head out early one morning this spring.  This will be my spring channel cat spot.  Mort and I are hoping to get into some of those fish that push 20 pounds when they make their run up from Lake Michigan.

With the kids begging to go to McDonald's, I pushed west towards the bayous and let them know that it wouldn't be too much longer.  The drive to the next launch was quite a bit further than I had anticipated and I was starting to get a little tense.  Lincoln was absolutely starving and had fallen into repeatedly asking where Mommy went.  Hayden was done with Hannah Montana and fixated on getting a happy meal.  I finally found the launch that I will use to get me to Pottawattomie and Stearns bayous.  It turns out that it's very near the Nunica exit on I-96.  I'll go after pike and bass in these bayous and see if I can figure out walleye in the main river channel of this area.  The launch is upriver from the bayous which isn't ideal.  I generally like to fish upriver from where I launch in case I have problems with the motor.  If I'm upstream, I can always float back down to the launch.  Still, I'm looking forward to getting in our boat and exploring this section of the river.  I'm thinking an early April trip is in order.  Maybe I'll throw in a couple of rods, some crawlers, and a tub of dip bait.  I did finally get the kids to McDonald's and they once again returned to their happy, spunky selves.  Despite my dumb dad stuff, the trip went very well and I got one step closer to putting my spring fishing plan together.

I had a feeling that my outing with Luke and Lincoln would be relatively stress free.  I fed them before we left and I threw in water bottles and additional snacks for the road.  Luke is a big Four Seasons fan, so we traded Hayden's bubblegum pop for some oldies but goodies.  131 was cruel to us again.  Someone had dumped a load of empty plant flats in the left lane.  Even though these things are just about as thin as paper, people were almost coming to a complete stop as they weaved through them.  196 and Lake Michigan Drive were all clear.  When I got out past Grand Valley, I jogged over to a road that runs right along the river.  From east to west the name of the road changed from North Cedar Drive to Green Street to Mercury Drive.  I found a couple of nice parks with launches, but they were quite a ways up river from the bayous.  I eventually wandered over Stearns and then Pottawattomie bayous.  Looking at them on a map, I pictured them as isolated and surrounded by desolate wetlands.  Both have homes on them and are in a pretty populated area.  I won't be quite as alone as I'm used to on the river, but if the fishing is good I won't mind.  I'm curious to see what kind of boat traffic and fishing pressure this end of the river gets.

We hit a park on the way home.  It was pretty windy and cold, but the boys had fun walking a trail and then playing on the playground.  On the way home "Walk Like A Man" played.  When it was done Luke said, "Hey Dad, you need to walk like a man, okay?"  I chuckled and said I'd do what I could.  He said, "No, you really need to walk like a man."  More chuckling, "Okay, buddy."  After a little pause I said, "Hey, wait!  Why are you saying that?  You're being funny?"  He remained completely deadpan.  "No, Dad.  You walk like a girl."  Not long after, another song started and Luke joined in, "Pretty as a midsummer's morn, they called her . . . Dad!"  How did Luke get so smart and where did he get such a smart mouth?  I always thought with my general love for the outdoors and my tendency to shave maybe twice a week that I had a certain rugedness about me.  Apparently I have some work to do to toughen myself up in my boy's eyes.  He later told me that he "was just trying to be funny like you, Dad," so that made things better.  I've got to hand it to him, he kind of had me going.  I didn't know that he had the aptitude to kid like that.

Nothing is stress free when it involves a couple of preschool age kids, but my scouting trips went very well.  I have a better picture of this new section of river and I know right where to go to get on it.  Time will tell  if my efforts translate into fish.  I think they will.  I can't wait to make that first cast.

This New Passion

When I first started fishing for flatheads, I was completely consumed by them.  My appetite for any and all information on them was insatiable.  I read articles over and over, bought every catfish DVD I could find,  watched them repeatedly every night, and conducted endless research to learn what rod, reel, line, swivel, sinker, and hook to use.  Flathead catfish were just about all that I could think about.  I heard from other guys who fished the river that catching one was rare.  This only made them that much more special.  I held them in such reverence that catching one brought on absolute elation.  In the course of several years, I eventually developed to the point that I could catch them just about every trip out.  I don't think that I've arrived, but I've reached a certain level of proficiency.  The whole process was exceptional, a complete joy.

As I begin to turn my attention to the muskellunge, I am seeing a number of parallels with my flathead campaign.  I'm back at the beginning.  I find myself fixated on them.  I only have 2 muskie DVD's, but I've seen both of them 50 times.  I keep listening for any little tidbit of information that I might have missed or I study their techniques to get them down pat.  My evenings are spent perusing the internet looking at lures, rods, reels, nets, line, and anything else that I might need to fish for muskies.  I have my ideas about exactly what gear I want to get, but I like to see if I can find forums where other guys give their opinions about this stuff.  My friend from work also told me about MyOutDoorTV.com.  This site is gold.  I'm finding full episodes of the show, The Next Bite.  It focuses on pike, walleye, and muskies.  I catch an episode about every night.

Of course the most crucial step in this new journey is actually getting out there and seeing if this is going to turn into anything.  There's no guarantee that these fish won't live up to their reputation of being almost impossible to catch.  I'm fully aware that I'm not in Northern Minnesota where most of these DVD's and shows are filmed.  What I have going for me is that I'm driven to go to incredible lengths to figure the muskies out and hopefully get good at catching them.  I'll stay out there for hours and hours trying to get into a bite and will still have to force myself off of the water when it's time to go.  If it turns out that because of fishing pressure my best chances to encounter active fish is at night, then I'll fish at night.  If trolling gets them, I'll troll.  If casting produces fish, I'll cast.  If this pursuit does not pan out, it will be despite my efforts, not because of any lack of effort.  

I went 4 or 5 times late in the fall last year.  I bought a few oversized lures and put my old Corsair on a low end 6' 6" Fenwick rod that I used to use for channels.  Tom Hugglar included Thornapple Lake in his book on fishing destinations in Michigan.  He gave me some kind of idea about where to fish, but really the lake was a huge mystery and I had no confidence that I would even cross paths with a muskie.  I think I had at least one follow because there was a big swirl at the boat when I pulled the lure out of the water at the end of one of my retrieves.  I'm hoping that I will slowly solve the mystery of this lake as I spend more and more time out there.  Ideally I will have some follows and even catch some fish.  My confidence will go up as I figure out where to find the fish and what lures they seem to prefer.  Pretty soon the lake should look completely different to me.  It will transform from this strange enigma to something as familiar as my own backyard . . . ideally.

I may end up spending a season beating the water senseless with nothing to show for it but a pair of Popeye arms.  If I do run into this scenario, I might briefly go a little crazy.  It won't be the end of the world, though.  The grass is still pretty green on this side of the fence.  If I could only fish my little two mile section of the Grand River for the rest of my life, I'd die a happy man.  I just might die a little happier if I can notch my belt with a few of these ferocious freshwater baracudas.          

   

 

A Look Towards Spring

I spent a good part of this past Saturday getting my ice fishing gear stored away.  I took my time to make sure that everything was clean and dry, and then stored it all neatly away in my basement.  With ice fishing completely behind me, it's time to turn towards spring and start to make my plan.  I'm finding that, especially with my new passion for muskie fishing, I have a lot to figure out in the next 45 days.  If I want to be ready for the pike, muskies, walleye, and channel cats by the end of April, then I'd better get it in gear.

The good news is that as far as catfish, I'm pretty well set.  I can always update and upgrade, but I've got what I need and I could be ready to fish the river tonight if I wanted to.  I buy my cat hooks in bulk, so I still have plenty.  The same goes for swivels.  I still have quite a bit of line left to make my leaders.  As for the line on my reels, I loaded that 80 pound PowerPro on them last year and I think that it has plenty of life left in it.  I may decide to get fresh line later in the year, but I don't think it's a must before the season starts.  I have my eye on an Abu Garci Ambassadeur 7000 C3I reel, but that too can wait.  I'll stick with my two 6500's and my old Shimano Cordair for now.  I'm set for cats.

It's thinking about getting ready for muskies that makes me feel overwhelmed.  I'm finding that it's almost like a whole new sport if you want to get off to a good start.  Bass gear obviously won't handle throwing the big lures and especially won't hold up to fighting the savage fish.  I like the St. Croix Premier 7'6" MH power, fast action casting rod.  Gander Mountain has just one.  I know that I can order one if this one sells, but it will be nice to save on the shipping.  It will probably be my first big purchase.  I've been drooling over the Shimano Calcutta 400 reel for years now.  They make a B series that is over $100 cheaper than the TE.  I'm in the process of saving for this reel right now.  Of course, Michelle and I are working hard to Dave Ramsey our debt, so just about the only money that I am able to put towards fishing is the money that I get for giving plasma.  Not a complaint.  I just have to think things through and really decide what I need and what I can live without.

The rod and reel are already a huge set back, and then I have to think about building some kind of starter arsenal of lures.  Muskie lures are usually much bigger than the average lure and, therefore, much more expensive.  I found a couple of Super Shad Raps at Dick's that were on sale for about $10.  I grabbed a couple and will get a couple more after I donate tomorrow.  I still want to get some bucktail in-line and safety pin spinner baits.  I also want to pick up some big plastic baits like the Bull Dawg.  Who knows what else I'll end up with.  Lures are like candy to me.  I'm drawn to them anytime I'm in a sporting goods store and it's pretty easy to talk myself into getting a couple more in case I find myself in just the right situation for them.  I kicked around the idea of getting the Terminator titanium leaders.  They're more expensive and it looks like I'd have to order them.  They can wait, too.  I can get a decent steel leader in the store for relatively cheap.  The last thing that I'll need for rigging is 65 # PowerPro.  This is a must right off the bat.  My starter kit is getting expensive.

Besides rod, reel, and tackle there are other things that you should probably have if you're going to chase muskies.  I would like to eventually get a really nice oversized net.  I've noticed that when the guys on the shows catch muskies, they leave them in the net and in the water while they're getting the hooks out.  Modern nets are also made to be a lot easier on the fish.  Hopefully I can get a good net shortly into the season.  I've noticed that some of the time, they have to cut the hooks to get the lure back out of the muskies' mouths with the least amount of damage to them.  I'll have to get some good cutters.  If I'm going to be cutting the hooks off of my lures, I better come prepared with a supply of replacement hooks and rings.  I'm also going to need a split ring tool.  Finally, Lindy makes a really nice glove that protects hands from hooks and teeth.  At something like $30 per glove, I'll have to wait on those.  Mechanics' gloves will have to do for now.    Way down the line, I'd like to get one more muskie rod and Calcutta reel so that I can have a second rod in the boat ready with a different type of lure or for a partner to use if I bring someone with me.  I also want a trolling rod and reel with a line counter.  I like the Shimano Tekota.  These things will have to come after I get some experience and decide that I can have some success with muskies and I really want to make them a fish that I regularly pursue.  Man, there's something to be said for driving 5 minutes to the river and fishing a crawler on a hook and sinker.

Other than putting fresh monofilament on my spinning reels, I'm in pretty good shape for chasing all of the other fish.  I'm going to go after big pike in the Grand River bayous this May.  I can use my muskie gear for them.  This is a new adventure for me and I'm really looking forward to exploring that section of the river.  I'll probably throw the kids in the Jeep before then and take a scouting trip to check out some of the launches over there.  I want to know right where I'm going when the time comes.  I've heard that the walleye fishing can be good on that end of the river, too.  I want to try for them with Josh and Elijah.  Elijah is obsessed with walleye and I've become obsessed with getting him his first one.  I'm sure Mort will come out with me, too.  We can go after those huge channel cats that Dan Lipski put us on a couple of years ago.  I might kick off my year fishing for muskies and walleye on Thornapple Lake on the last Saturday in April.  We'll see.  I have a feeling it will be like trying to hunt state land on the opening day of gun season.  I'm not big on combat fishing.  I'll figure it out when the time gets closer.

I love this time of year.  It's a great feeling to know that the new season is right around the corner, full of big fish and memorable moments on the water.  I get antsy with the anticipation, but as I lose myself in the preparation, time is going to fly by and I'm going to be back in a boat before I know it.      

Walk-Off Home Run

When I pulled into the public access site at Campau Lake early yesterday morning, I knew that I was stepping up to the plate with 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th.  This was my last chance to put a muskie on the ice.  The area lakes are already covered in 3 inches of slush and we have a week's worth of warm weather ahead.  It's going to be topped off by a day of rain.  I won't be getting out anymore.

It wasn't hard to decide where to spend my last day of the season.  I was blessed with a lot of good fishing up at my in-laws' this year, but it was time to step back out of my comfort zone and go after this beast that was turning into the fish of 10,000 hours on the ice.  Even though success has eluded me all year, I had a certain amount of confidence because I had a plan.  For starters, I had just read a study in In-Fisherman on muskies in the chain of lakes where Michigan's state record was caught last year.  In the study, they put tracking devices in several muskies and found that they moved to the shallower lakes during the winter months.  I was going to switch from my spot off of the drop that falls into Kettle Lake and move into the shallow and weedy Campau Lake.  I picked out my spot on a topographical map of the lake.  It was straight out from the launch, just outside of a small cove.  I would be in 6 to 10 feet of water.  The general consensus of the locals is that bluegills are the bait of choice.  I would be hanging gills from my tip-ups.  Finally, I kept hearing how aggressive muskies get in the spring.  I was looking at a warm, sunny day.  It would be as close to a spring day as we've had yet.  I thought that this might get them going.

It was still dark when I got out there.  With my feet breaking through a thin crust of ice and into the 3 inches of slush, I felt like I was climbing a sand dune.  I only had to go about a hundred yards, but I was exhausted by the time I finally got to my new spot.  When my wind returned, I set a few tip-ups and waited for the sun to come up.  After about a half hour it rose above the trees and warmed things up just a little bit.  When it seemed light enough, I walked over to the channel that connects the lakes and quickly caught half a dozen silver dollar gills.  I put one on the first tip-up, but left shiners on the others.  I figured a shiner might get bit by a bass or a muskie and I was really hoping to get some flags.  I did eventually switch all of the baits out to gills.  The weather report was for a sunny day in the high 30's, but I found myself feeling pretty cold all morning.  There was a persistent wind out of the north and I hadn't dressed as warm as normal, thinking that 38 would feel like Key West.

By noon, the day finally started to live up to the weatherman's hype.  The wind had become quiet and I could feel the sun penetrating my bibs and coat.  I was glad to finally shake that chill.  Michelle called around that time and when she heard my report of no flags, she suggested that I head to another lake.  No, I was committed to sticking out my muskie hunt.  The heat caused a hatch of this mysterious bug that I started seeing all over the ice.  I was bored  so I decided to torture one.  I dropped a ball of slush on it, sending it under the icy water.  To my surprise, it continued crawling around under the freezing water like nothing ever happened.  These things are going to be here with the cockroaches after the bomb is dropped.  Remembering what I was there for, I looked up to scan my tip-ups.  To my surprise, the one directly in front of me was tripped.  The handle was turning at a steady pace.  My heart hopped up into my throat.  Babe Ruth was pointing over the center field wall.  Kirk Gibson was limping up to the plate.  I was going to get to play ball.

The handle stopped turning as I walked towards the tip-up, but the line inched off of the spool a little bit when I picked it up.  I grabbed the line and pulled it in, feeling for weight.  When the line tightened up, I gave it a yank.  I looked to the sky and whispered "Yes!" when it started peeling through my fingers.  This could only be a muskie.  I was talking to my fishing buddy at work about muskies just a few days ago and he was telling me how they are the pike's tougher big brother.  He called them pike on steroids.  He couldn't have been more right.  This monster of a fish made no fewer than a dozen long runs.  The hole turned into a jacuzzi anytime I drew her within a few feet of it.  I think it was the powerful strokes of that huge tail that were causing such a disturbance.  I've never had it happen with a pike, but I remember it happening once in my brief struggle with that muskie at the beginning of the season.  At one point I knocked a bunch of slush into the hole, making it impossible to see what was going on down there.  I took advantage of those long runs and used my free hand to frantically scoop out the hole.  I cleaned it out just in time to see that huge green head just below my egg sinker.  I figured out pretty soon that she didn't want anything to do with that hole.  I tried to line her up and guide her through, but she held her ground like a bulldog on a leash that doesn't want to come inside after a walk.  She would then turn and power back across the lake.  After we did this dance more times than I could keep track of, I finally got her head into the hole and pulled her out to the dry side of the ice.  The Babe was trotting around the bases.  Gibby was hobbling into home.

I wanted to soak in my achievement, but I was more worried about getting the muskie off of the hook, in front of the camera, and back into the water.  I ran to get my backpack.  There was one other fisherman out there, actually a fisherwoman, and she came over when she saw me pull the big fish up through the hole.  I was glad to see her, because I knew that I would get some good pictures.  The hook was right in the corner of the muskie's mouth and it came right out.  She completely mangled it.  I'm keeping it for a souvenir.  She measured in at 40 inches even.  I didn't weigh her, but she must have been between 15 and 20 pounds.  The icefisherlady said that she's been fishing the lake all year and mine was the first flag that she's seen.  She didn't know that she was talking to Babe Ruth.  There was no resuscitation necessary for this fish.  As soon as I slipped her back into the hole, she came to life like a funny car starting and roared away.

Yesterday was a Monday.  Most Mondays I'm sitting at a desk doing things like working on payroll and writing employee evaluations.  Yesterday was actually my 36th birthday.  Still, I was planning on going into work like any other day.  I ended up fishing only because my mom offered to watch my kids all day for me.  She inspired me to take the whole day off of work and go out one last time.  If it wasn't for her, I'd be writing about how you've still got to try even if things don't always pan out.  That might be true, but it's a lot more fun comparing myself to legendary ball players and recounting my battle with this underwater titan.  Thanks, Mom for always looking for ways to give to others, especially your family.

Yesterday was the perfect wrap to a great ice fishing season.  I fished a lot more this year than I have for a long time.  I'm usually feeling pretty depressed by the beginning of March.  Winter generally has me firmly in its dreary grasp by now.  Not this year.  I thoroughly enjoyed fishing and spending time with a lot of family and friends.  Some of them I hadn't seen for years and some of them I pretty much only see when I go ice fishing.  I spent some good Saturdays with these guys this year.  I should also thank Michelle, because all those hours that I was on the ice meant that she was at home trying to entertain 3 tasmanian devils.  It's a wonder she hasn't torn out all of her hair.

As good as this season was, I'm a little relieved to be free of the constant draw to fish.  I can now let my chapped lips and hands heal.  I can catch up on sleep.  I can start saving up for a rod and reel that can handle these beautiful monsters this spring.  I can start getting all of my gear ready to chase everything that swims in the rivers and lakes around us.  The ball park stands empty now, but the stadium lights will soon go back up to the sound of the ump's cry to "Play ball!"  The muskies better watch out, because I've tasted blood.