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| Bobzilla with a 51.5-inch Dryberry muskie. |
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IT ONLY TAKES ONE
by Bob Chochola
MUSKIE Magazine (December 2005 issue)
“Muskie: the fish of ten thousand casts.”
This ominous statement is the credo muskie hunters have lived by for a very long time and is as threatening as it sounds to newcomer and veteran alike. The words suggest that if you pursue the elusive beast, you’d best be prepared for much work and little reward.
To some degree the muskie is indeed a mysterious creature. Unlike other species, the adult muskie sits atop the food chain an unchallenged Queen among commoners, a master of her domain, and a predator amidst her prey. A musky is fearless, because there are no natural enemies found lurking the deep; no hungry foes hiding in the rocks and weeds on her journey. A muskie moves freely and without hesitation for she is the stalker, while anything else that swims, treads water, or splashes about on the surface above, represents nothing more to her than a potential meal.
“Muskie: other fish are just bait.”
There is more truth in this popular product slogan than in the entire advertising world put together. A muskie is an eating machine and will do little in her lifetime to disprove the theory. She swims, eats, and makes babies and that’s pretty much the end of it.
These are the characteristics that make muskie fishing seem complex and simple all at the same time. If she’s an eating machine striking anything that moves without fear, then forget the “ten thousand casts” thing, for all one has to do is drop a lure in front of her and have the camera ready, right? Wrong! Being the ultimate predator has its advantages and it is the unsuspecting angler who is more often than not at the mercy of this magnificent toothy critter.
So, which is it going be for you? Will it really take thousands of casts to catch a muskie, or is there a way to tap-into the feeding frenzy and boost your success rate right now? Let me tell you my story first, because it may very well be that you will find your way to a very rewarding experience because of it.
I started fishing at a very young age. I can remember my Dad taking me on trips to The Fox River in Algonquin, IL when I was no more than five years old. It was a great place to get inducted into the sport of fishing because there was no shortage of action during hot summer days in the swirling current below the dam. After all, it was the same place he learned to fish with his Dad and he knew I would find action there.
Once in a while Dad would pack-up his gear and head to the dam for an all night fish and some private time. I remember how badly I wanted to go along and how excited I was to see him come home with his catch – usually a stringer full of channel catfish.
Oh, don’t worry, I finally got my wish and started tagging along with Dad for the all-nighters too. I turned out to be a pretty savvy bank fisherman because of those early experiences and to this day remain fairly well schooled at shoreline fishing, even though my travels have brought me down to the state of Texas, where public access (aka bank fishing) is at a premium.
In spite of cutting my teeth on the rough species found in the murky water of The Fox during the 1960’s, I began to branch out as I got older fishing lakes and ponds throughout the western suburbs of Chicago. I was still a bank fisherman and that is all I really knew for a long time, until as a teen I began taking deep-sea charter trips out of Miami Beach, Florida with my Parents. I had to be one of the few kids my age with that kind of experience, especially after I caught an eight-and-a-half-foot hammerhead shark a month prior to my sixteenth birthday. I still get ribbed about the big catch picture because I was wearing plaid pants and a “Fonzie” t-shirt at the time (stop laughing).
By the time I hit my mid-twenties I was a rabid angler. I met a group of guys who shared my passion AND were also very familiar with fishing The Fox River. The Fox became a regular haunt for us in those days with its giant carp, catfish, and an assortment of nice game fish like pike and small mouth bass. We would also enjoy the fine art of salmon and trout fishing on Lake Michigan once in a while and then hit the harbors on that Great Lake for jumbo perch. It was during this time I was introduced to muskie fishing by several of the guys who had already done it – and were hooked.
Pat and Mike invited me on a trip to The Chippewa Flowage in Heyward, WI one summer. This was back in the day when “muskie” wasn’t exactly a household word and finding information on how to fish for one was to say the least limited – not that I was looking. I was just like so many new inductees to muskie hunting that I would encounter in the years to come. I thought, “Heck, I catch 30-pound carp… how much different can it be?”
This was my mindset and off to the woods I went with my spinning rigs expecting to do battle with the beast using medium action poles and 17-pound mono line. I had no idea what I was doing. Of course, I thought I knew it all and was about to be taken to school.
I had nothing to show for my first ten days on the prime muskie water of The Chip. No hook-ups, no strikes, no follows, no runs, hits, or errors either – I got skunked. I did have fun doing battle with lures that really put my light tackle to the test. A Texan would say, “That’s what I get for bringing a knife to a gunfight.” If I would have actually hooked-up with even a mid-size muskie, I would have been doomed. I can hear the reel gears stripping and the whip-like rod snapping from here. It wasn’t until my second season that I would tote more appropriate gear and boat my first muskie – a 35-incher. Yes I’m pretty sure I made ten thousand casts before she finally hit.
Over the years I have found that just when I think I’m about to figure things out, the sly beast finds a way to send me back to the old drawing board. That’s the mystery of the mighty muskie and it keeps me coming back year after year. It’s what makes hunting the muskie cooler than fishing for any other species of fish in fresh water. The fact that we “hunt” for muskies and never use the word “fish” should tell you something about the intrigue behind it all.
My fishing partner and best friend, Pat, puts it best, “There are those who like to sit on the dock and wait for life to come to them, but there are still others who go out and hunt life down.” It wasn’t until I had been muskie hunting for a long time that I would come to understand what he was talking about. I am not a “sit on the dock and wait” kind of a guy – not anymore. I live for the hunt these days, for the explosive strike on a weed bed just before dark, for the bone-crushing jolt trolling a rock wall at three-o’clock in the afternoon, for the sight of those jaws appearing from out of nowhere to inhale my lure. Heck, these days even my bank fishing technique has a bit of the hunt in it – I like to go get ‘em.
Does it really take ten thousand casts to catch a muskie?
Sometimes it sure seems like it does, but those times I’m happy to report, are farther and fewer in between these days. I like to think that it only takes ONE cast – the next one – to put a muskie in my boat. This philosophy keeps me casting long after everyone else is back at camp coping Z’s. It’s all about the one famous saying that certainly rings true without any debate:
“You won’t catch a muskie if your bait isn’t in the water.”
How true.
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