If you’re from Wisconsin you get use to weather changing on a dime and seasons just as quickly. Today, Summer arrived. We had hot days prior but the nights remained cool – the kind of nights where you sleep with the windows open and the pellet stove kicks on. However I believe those nights may be gone for a while and the nights will now become progressively warmer.
Temperatures approached ninety degrees and and the local weather report called for a considerable front to move through today. For me and my brother, it meant a shot at our first good Muskie of the season. See, when the barometric pressure is dropping and a front is building these elusive predators turn in to that guy at Golden Corral who just cannot stop. When conditions are right, a Muskie fisherman must commit.
Being that it is a Friday I had to work and was forced to race the front afterwards while getting the boat ready for the excursion . Of course, if you know me it never goes as easily as it should and I realized my life jackets were left at our cabin a few weekends ago. So, had to swing by Mom’s and pick up the old school orange vests that we all know and love before hitting the road.
On the way to the lake my brother and I talked about fish and what it would mean to put a Ski in the boat that evening. Muskies are unique in that there is a sort of building of anticipation before hitting the lake to chase them. It must be what a guy that is a die-hard Whitetail hunter feels before entering the woods. At least I hope they feel what I do beforehand. It makes you feel very much alive while simultaneously making everything else in the world seem less important.
Our fourteen foot boat dubbed the “Pike Attacker” due to the graphics stuck on the side before we painted over them pulled behind us and even got a drink of gas on the way. All the while, I thought about the possibility of us not being able to actually fish due to conditions. Big Westerly winds do not provide ideal water for fourteen foot tin cans, but that does not mean you shouldn’t at least try. We got to the lake, and watched a much larger fiberglass boat struggle at the ramp while trying to load with waves crashing at the stern. We were outgunned. Shot down. No Muskies were being chased tonight by us. That That’s the trouble with Muskies and small boats. Just don’t try telling me that on my way to the cabin in a few weeks when I’m busy daydreaming about my fiance’s first Muskie, caught in our small boat.