Monday, August 18

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring raingear,” I said. “If you don’t bring rain gear, it automatically will rain. That’s Murphy’s Law.” The first day of our fishing trip feels more like October than mid-August – cold, clammy, and wet. At least, I thought, the abrupt change from 95-degree weather might wake up the fish. I waited at the dock while Tony went to Mike Nielsen’s place to borrow rain gear. We then spent the day checking shoreline cover with shallow-running crankbaits to see if Merwin’s tiger muskies were using this cover. We came up with a pair of juveniles, a 29 ½” by Tony followed by a 31” by me. That was our total catch for the day, and I hadn’t expected any different. This first day was merely a reconnaissance mission, a probe, a patrol sent out to find the adversary.

Tuesday, August 19

My game plan today is to work deep cover to see if the larger fish are in the 20 to 25-foot zone. Overnight, the surface water temperature has dropped from 74 to 70 degrees, and visibility is only 12 feet. I’m unsure whether this will bring the fish up or push them deeper. Around 4 p.m., Tony sees and feels a 40-incher grab and spit his crankbait next to a downed tree on a shallow flat. I’m still unsure; one fish doesn’t prove much. I’m looking for a pattern, but this will be the only fish we see all day. At 6 p.m. it begins raining heavily, and we take shelter under an “umbrella tree.” Over the years we’ve picked out a number of large maples overhanging the water, where a boat can slip under the branches and stay reasonably dry during a downpour. We smoke cigars and drink a beer apiece while waiting it out. It never quits, and at 7 p.m. we give up and motor back to the boat launch with spray and slanting sheets of rain pounding our faces. A gauzy mist settles over the lake and looks like it’ll stay a while. Distant points and shorelines disappear, and it’s like swirling in a mess of wet cotton candy, the silver wake behind the boat tracing our course.

Wednesday, August 20

Another gooey day, raining off-and-on all day. We see two tiger muskies swimming side-by-side, about 3 feet apart, on a shallow flat. They look like they’re going somewhere. They’re not real big, maybe 36 to 38 inches. We raise a pair of nice fish today; my follower is about 40”, Tony’s is 41” to 42”. Seeing them warms us up a little and gets our juices flowing again.

Thursday, August 21

The rain finally quits, but it’s cloudy all day except for a few fleeting sunbreaks in late afternoon. A small tiger follows my lure several times but won’t bite. Tony points to three ospreys circling overhead. Are they two parents and a young one? Or two males courting a female? We don’t know. Perhaps the best show of the day is a low-level fly-by from a bald eagle. He flies in a straight line, and looks like he’s going somewhere.

Friday, August 22

The weather finally clears. We slather on sunblock and strip down to t-shirts. There is moderately heavy boating traffic and we’re frequently rocked by wakes. The sun brings the fish up; I see 5 tiger muskies today, and get a follow from a fish in the upper 30s. tony gets follows from 2 small fish. He and I take turns trying to catch a 40-incher that followed our lures a total of 4 times, but he isn’t buying our merchandise. We move to another area and work a series of downed trees floating over deep water. Suddenly, there she is. Tony, excited, points into the murky water directly below the boat. The fish sinks out of sight before I spot it. Tony has caught big fish out here in the past, including a 47-incher that went about 26 lbs., but he says this one was way bigger than that. He figures about 48” to 50” and well over 30 lbs. He got a good look and describes it as thick, chunky, deep bodied. We go back to our cabin in the woods with a plan for tomorrow.

Saturday, August 23

It’s another sunny, warm day – and there’s no longer any doubt the warmth is stirring the lake’s tiger muskies. Mike Nielsen is fishing with us today. I won’t say whether we went back to that 50-incher; you don’t give a fish like that away, and I wouldn’t go near that spot if other boats were in sight. We’ve been fishing all week, mostly in bad weather, and we’re tired; we throw bad casts and hang up all day, and at 3:15 p.m. when my lure stops near a thick tree limb my dull senses make me think I’m snagged again. Then there’s a hard pull and I see a flash in the water as the fish turns. This is a big one. It feels like a truck. I hit him really, really hard – and the line goes limp. I examine my line. It didn’t break; the end, where the knot was, is curled. The barrel knot pulled out when I set the hooks. I had changed leaders earlier in the day, and in my tired state, didn’t put enough turns in my barrel knot. Now I pay for it with a lost fish. Chalk it up to angler error. There’s no excuse for it; muskie fishing is the aquatic equivalent of big game hunting, and you’ve got to be in top form and think clearly all the time, even when you’re tired – especially then, because that’s when mistakes are most likely to occur. After all week on the water, alternately getting drenched by cold rain and baked by hot sun, we finish up with only the two little runts we caught on Monday to show for our efforts. I don’t regret it. The Merwin experience isn’t just about catching fish. You always see something interesting there, and every trip to Merwin is an adventure. I’ll be back, as soon as I can. You can take that to the bank.

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