Slide show:
http://s140.photobucket.com/albums/r22/traviswiles/?action=view¤t=8c0c195d.pbwHere's the story I emailed to my friends and family. I hope you guys enjoy. I definitely lived one of the best times on the water that I've ever experienced.
The day was originally planned for trout, flyfishing on the Clinch River in East TN. When my friend, Mike called and said we'd have to change plans due to schedule conflicts....my true preference, Muskie fishing, was the chosen back up plan. As I made my way up Interstate 81 , adrenaline pumping....my caffiene charged mind was filled with the thoughts of an aggressive toothy fish slamming my bait. The wind blasted rain into my windshield and with each passing 18-wheeler there was a blinding spray.
After a quick stop at Gander Mountain outdoor store, my bag was filled with over-sized lures....one in particular just felt like "The One".....an 8 inch yellow/orange tiger striped plug. Now I felt ready to face the elusive demon fish that I had dreamt of catching since childhood. In two more hours of driving, I'd get my chance to cast to these fish on a perfect, nasty rainy day.
I met my buddies Mike and Jarrod at the remote boat ramp in the upper Caney Fork river system; We were all pumped as we rigged our 30lb flouro lines and wire with baits that resembled those used for Marlin. Giant Fly rods and 2 "cheater" rods (mine with the Tiger plug) were our arsenal for battle.
The river flowed with a nice stain, as the steady rain poured numerous fountains of fresh runoff from the steep banks. Dodging the limbs and occaisional floating log...we made our way up river to some promising stretches of deep muddy banked pools--- where the big fish lurked.
After a couple of hours of steady casting, we were beginning to realize that maybe we were too late. The water was getting more and more muddy, and each cast was fouling our lures with litter from the rainswept forest floors. Jarrod and Mike stuck true to their craft, and persistently cast their large flies to the fishy pools. I, on the other hand, kept throwing my $15 plug...shakily anticipating a crashing beast to devour it.
Our boat floated down Mid channel and sarcastically Jarrod muttered, " There ain't no damn fish in this river." The smirk on his face revealed that he sensed another 0 fish day.
With the gentle roar of showering rain, I reeled the last few cranks to prepare for another cast......Then the line stopped with a dead SOLID THUNK!!!!!!!!
Before I could react, my rod began shaking with large swooping head shakes tethered to the 5 yards of line stretching downstream. Immediately, the fish showed it's head with a couple of nasty thrashes that churned the muddy water into foam. It was almost surreal seeing such a large fish sinking back into the depths with my trembling hands trying to feed out line to let her run. I felt like everything was in slow motion, and I could barely move. The next five minutes was filled with pauses, dives under the boat, and the dread as the fish neared the right side bank as she swam upstream toward the numerous submerged logs. Jarrod was immediately on the fish like a hawk, ready to swoosh the large net if she gave the opportunity. Feeling like she was tiring, I told Jarrod to get ready. Then, the fish spun into some gator rolls, coiling up in the line then diving deep. After unwinding, she surfaced and spread her wide jaws, and I watched almost every hook come unbuttoned as the plug dangled out of her jaws...I just Knew it was over!
Jarrod then spoke, "It's now or never. That fish is about to get off."
I knew he was right...and I said, "Just do the best you can."
With an assertive plunge of the net, Jarrod tried to scoop up the toothy beast.....There was only one problem....Every one of those large treble hooks fouled in the net, and this made it impossible to cradle the giant fish. My heart sank as I knew it was now definitely over. One head thrash would free this awesome fish.
Jarrod then did the only thing he could...He pressed then net firm and pinned the fish's head to the boat, holding steady--and the fish stayed surprisingly calm.
As I stared down into the water at those gaping jaws and treble hooks, I knew the only thing I could do was put my hands at risk and grab the fish by the jaws. I clamped her jaws shut, and cautiously avoided the sharp hooks; all the while, ready to release if she started shaking. With two handfuls of muskie lip, I hoisted the fish into the boat ( along with the tethered net) and unhooked the plug....and I thought the battle was over.
As Mike cranked the motor and jetted up to a nearby sandbar, the fish started flopping and thrashing, almost clearing the sides of the boat. I jumped down on all fours, straddling the fish. Jarrod and Mike were yelling, "Watch out for those teeth!" As the fish's thumping head slammed against my sternum.
Luckily, we neared the shallow calm water quite fast, and with a boga grip, I was soon walking my leashed muskie in the water like a pet dog. Mike and Jarrod helped me get some photos before I revived the fish back into the muddy currents.
Later as we drifted down, casting with high hopes of another battle, Jarrod shared his rare $50 Cuban cigars. As I coughed on the occaisional overdrawn plume of smoke (cause I didn't bite the end off right), I relished the moment, taking it all in.
What an encounter this was! It's always been a restless dream of mine to tangle with one of these fish. And this was an experience where a perfect plan came together.....
I'll never forget it.
Travis
