I was told by some knowledgeable fisherman that muskellunge have a dormant state Known as “torpor” that defines their behavior once the water temps dive below 40 degrees. I have often observed large fish “laid up” during extreme cold…fish that wouldn’t budge when a fly is teased in front of their face.
As I was lining up big plans for my 35th birthday weekend getaway, my hopes were dashed by photos of frozen banks and river channels littered by ice floes the size of semi trucks. Two straight weeks of Arctic air had turned every southeastern musky river into uninviting , frozen winter scenes suitable for an Ansel Adams calendar.
The weekend called for temps in the 40s and 50s, and my stubborn nature prevailed, and I set off with the Hog in tow to seek every hydro dam, warmwater discharge, and bubbling underwater spring I knew that may hold basking musky warmed up enough to strike. Launching the boat was a bit of an adventure.
I fished, then moved, relaunching where the ice would let me in. Kept the flies low, ticking the bottom, and snagging up often. No dice! My only glimmer of hope was the warming sun and 50 degree temps had several early black stoneflies dancing off the water’s surface. The sun set, I called it a day, and headed solo to enjoy a Birthday dinner and IPA.
That night, I booked a hotel, and my good friend Knox drove in with birthday tidings of a really good bourbon—Old Grandad. We sipped a few drinks and unpacked the bucktail and flash, and whipped together some last minute flies that needed a good cold swim. I’m sure the
housekeeping wondered why sparkly flash and trimmings of colorful hackle and deer hair were on a rural hotel floor.
Drying the day’s flies:
The next day was recon…use the poor conditions to discover new remote put-ins….trying not to get shot for trespassing as we drove down gravel farm roads. Most accesses would likely involve long dragging down railroad tracks with a sturdy Paddleboard…good findings for the coming warmer months.
The morning burned off , and we launched the crawdad down a couple of steep river banks…dodging the floating chunks of ice as they began to crack with the welcoming thaw. Seeing the new water was good, but 34 and 36 degree water had us feeling doubtful that we’d get a fish to move. As evening sank in and doubts of a bite were growing more steady…I could feel the soreness of 2 straight days of icy musky fishing sinking in.
Suddenly…the line gets tight and I’ve got headshakes on the line! You’ve got to be kidding me. “YESSSS! It can happen!” I quickly landed a nice 36” fish that fought very strong. A true victory that I thought I wasn’t possible. My trip was made.
We kept on our drift….About 10 minutes later, Knox Line gets tight…Fish On! From the swirls and bent rod, we could tell it was a good one. The fish appeared under my trolling motor, and I gave the typical “OH MY GOD, it’s a beast!” musky moment. Took a couple turns and dives to get this one in the net. This fish had some serious girth. Off to the bank for some hard earned pics of Knox’s new personal best fish. A very healthy 46.
Now it’s on…tension is building because we have a privileged dinner invite from some local friends’s family, and only about 30 minutes to load up the boat and not be late. The sun is fading over the hills, and the crescent moon is setting at the same time (the perfect musky moment). We motor back up to some timber, and I can’t even clear the line before Knox brings his fly by the boat on his first cast. Boatside…a gorgeous fish comes up…SCARF!!! Fish #2 for Knox is headthrashing then diving under the boat. In the middle of the fight Knox's rod comes apart, and we fight the fish with the butt section of the rod, and the rod tip rattling against the fly in the fish's mouth. Get him in the net, off to the bank, photos---a thick 41”, back on the water.
Now it’s utter chaos. It’s dark, and time to get off the water to meet our dinner hosts, but let’s give it one last try. The tension is building as we near the deep water. I wind up ready for a cast, anticipating a fish.
Knox snags a tree—“Sorry Dude, I’m hung up”
Work over to the water, and Knox frees his fly.
Motor back into position, ready more than ever to take a cast….”Sorry man, I’m snagged again”—Knox.
Back to the bank, unsnag the line. We motor back in the channel, and I’m ready to cast…..Knox snags up AGAIN!!!! Aagggh..You’re kidding me!!( I feel like Ralphy with the decoder pin, and I just can’t get Orphan Annie’s message translated).
We free the line, and I finally launch my first glorious cast into this great water after Knox’s 2 fish in 20 minutes……I freakin’ snag up…DAAAMMMMMNNNN IT!
As I’m trolling to get my fly unhung, I hear Knox shout…What the ____, You’ve got to be kidding me! He’s got a fish on his fly that was dragging behind the boat. We fight down and net a 40” fish at the last light of day. Photo was taken, now time to leave. Paddling down icy shoals in the dark.
The Glorious Musky Hour…the moment you’re trying to find in the countless days and hours you spend hunting these creatures. I can’t think of a more perfect ending to an almost hopeless heartache in the hours prior. A rare, hard-earned chaos encounter with a great friend--I am truly blessed to experience such a moment.
We fished different water on Day #3 without a sniff or follow…we kept exploring, found some great new places. On the drive home, and as I type, it started to sink in just how awesome it was when the dormant frozen river turned into a feeding frenzy. That night, our steak dinner and fellowship with newfound friends was amazing, and so worthwhile—I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. My only second thought is…What if?? What if we kept on fishing down to the next set of logjams into that night?…how many more fish were binge feeding on that sun/moonset? That’s what keeps me coming back. This weeks floods have the rivers thawed out…as soon as the water’s low and clear, I hope to find another window of solitude after these fish. Good Luck this Spring.
TW
Topic: 3 Days for 1 Hour (Read 6667 times)