Fished a few hours Saturday and a few hours Sunday. Tough conditions both days, but I gave it a go anyway.
Saturday with only about two hours of run and gun casting, I boated a 37 on the same firetiger jerkbait that produced a 42 and 36 on the previous trip. It's been as if the fish only wanted one bait in my box. Ever have a day like that?
I love jerk bait fishing for muskies and I find it interesting to see fish rise up out of about 8 feet of water to blast a long stick of wood that looks in no way like a bait fish of any species. The strikes on a jerk bait are often particularly vicious. Two of the three fish I boated slammed the bait within a few feet of the boat. It is one of the odd anamolies of freshwater fishing. After nearly two and half decades of musky fishing, it is every bit as exciting as it was the first time it happened.
The bait favored in this case is one that runs particular shallow and does not follow textbook jerk bait protocol. No matter. When the want it, they want it.
I usually never go on the water without at least eight or nine jerk baits in my box. I build them for myself in a variety of patterns and colors and some of the run deep, while some run only a few inches below the surface. It seems that the deeper running baits are better when the light is strong and the shallow ones are better for overcast days. But...there are those days, when the norm is thrown out the window and everything you think you know is wrong.
Sunday they would follow but not strike. Now in fairness, the rain was relentless and as strong as it gets in Ohio.
How bad was it raining? Well, if I recall correctly, West Branch is about 2500 acres and a Sunday in May is usually crazy with jet skiers and pleasure boaters throwing wakes the size of the old Berlin Wall. (You younger guys will need to Google that for perspective). But yesterday, I no other boats at all until the rain slowed down after about two hours. After the rain, I saw only three others.
Later in the afternoon, I picked up Bulldawg at the dock and we tried casting various prime spots. We did a little trolling but not much. The follows stopped altogether and it was work to keep the confidence level where it needs to be when casting. No action. No fish were to be moved and I resorted to trying cranks and a full spectrum of jerk baits. Bulldawg threw his beautiful home made buck tails and little else.
The day came to an end and the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees as the light faded to a dim gray glow.
I began stowing the twenty or so baits that I had tried at various spots. As I was doing that, Bulldawg took the controls of the trolling motor at the helm and kept casting his favorite buck tail. "You never know," he said.
When all looked futile, when the light was pretty much gone, about the time I was latching down the lid of my primary tackle box, his buck tail came back to within three feet of the boat and a lower forties fish took a swing at it. I was about to start the boat and happened to be looking toward his bait at the moment it happened.
He wasn't ready and didn't set the hook. But...in a reaction that can only be summoned by an experienced musky guy, he flipped the wrist of the hand holding his rod and slapped the bait back down onto the surface almost on top of the fish.
You might think that would cause the fish to panic and exit the area with all dispatch. But if that's what you're thinking, you don't understand the nature of the species esox. I wish I could describe the speed at which the fish turned and slashed into his buck tail. To say it was instantaneous doesn't begin to paint the picture.
He leaned back and slammed the bait upward. Fish on!
The water exploded and just as fast as the fish ate that bait, it was off. His leader broke off at the point where it attaches to the 100 pound test snap.
It happens that way sometimes. If there is any weak point in your tackle system, a musky will display it for you.
And that was it for Sunday, after having endured the rain, the wind, and the cold. Five seconds of chaos and the day was over.
And you know what? We were both okay with that. If you musky fish, you understand what Bulldawg quietly stated as we headed for the dock in the dark...
"The muskies win again."