Like most parents, I want my kids to like what I like, and if I bribe them to play along, does that make me a bad parent?  If so, better get CPS on the phone, because a day of fishing with dad is likely to end with a stop for ice cream.  But a camping trip was going to need an extra special level of bribery.

As it turns out, Savannah did go on a camping trip with me two summers ago.  It was touch and go for a while when a seriously bad storm rolled through our campsite on the shores of a remote lake.  It really was bad, but we made it through it OK, just a little soggy.  Savannah still gets nervous thinking about that storm.  On our way home, we stopped in Royalton at one of Minnesota’s best known tourist traps and I let her pick something off their crowded shelves of treasures.

We drive by this store every time we go to Grandma’s house, and Savannah will generally remind Skylar of how she got to stop there, how great it was inside there, and don’t you wish you could go there.  So my bait to get them to go camping included a stop at Treasure City.  It so happens that there is a nice campground on the river right there, so plans were made, and on a fine July morning we pulled into the Sportsman’s Club Campground.

Since this was midweek, I wasn’t too surprised to find a lot of empty campsites, so we chose a site right on the river near the boat launch.  A nice breeze coming off the river assured the mosquitos would stay away, and we had our tent set up in ten minutes.

My camping gear consists of a tent, sleeping bag, a lantern, a folding chair, and an axe, so I’m faring a little better than the folks on “Naked and Afraid”.  I don’t have any camp cooking stuff, most of what cook in camp involves either aluminum foil or a stick.  Hot dogs are far from being a favorite food, but I like to keep it simple, less time cooking = less time cleaning = more time doing other stuff, like fishing or relaxing around a campfire.

So camp is set, boat is launched, and we’re now heading upriver.  This is a section of the Mississippi I had only been on once before, my memory of it was good fishing, but shallow and pretty treacherous for a prop boat.  The other time I was here I ended up having to walk the boat up through a particularly shallow stretch around some islands, and after studying the area on Google Earth I decided that a different channel would allow for easier passage.  Wrong.  I have often been in the predicament of trying to get through too-shallow water, when faced with this I will have my boat partner get all the way up to the bow—this will raise the transom up, giving a little more clearance.  On this trip my boat partners weigh about a hundred pounds between them, so not much help there.  Ended up having to walk the boat up though about 100 yards of knee deep water again, and dinged my prop a few times when I was trying to push my luck.  They did offer words of encouragement as I muled the Jon boat up through the shallow riffle.                   

Besides catching smallmouth, we have one other activity:  this section of the Mississippi is one of a few places on the entire earth where a special kind of stone called a “staurolite” is found.  These are also called “Fairy Stones” or “Fairy Crosses” and you can bet I talked these up to the girls who are all about anything that has to do with fairies.  A perfect fairy stone [I’ve only seen pictures of a perfect one] looks somewhat like a Maltese cross. It’s no secret where to find these stones, and as we approached the area I had learned about I could see there were several people in the area, stooped over and intently studying the gravel.  I’m no geologist, but I couldn’t imagine why the stones would only be found on one side of the river, and since we had a boat we went straight across from the publicized spot.  We found plenty of stones, but I think that finding a fairy stone that looks anything like an actual cross is pretty rare. Our best fairy stones are pretty boring looking at a glance, but it is interesting how they have a diamond cross-section. We also found some nice mica pieces. 

Once our rock hunt was over it was time to fish.  We alternated between drifting and anchoring, and while the fishing wasn’t red hot, the girls each got a few fish.  I had come up with a points system where various fish captured would equal dollars to spend at Treasure City.  This did cause argument over who got to watch the night crawler rod while anchored, as the crawler was likely to produce fish other than smallmouth.  We spent an hour anchored at one spot where smallies were aggressively feeding on damselflies.  I have seen this a few times before on my home water, and usually have a few damsel fly patterns on board just in case.  I took them out last week while consolidating fly boxes, so we just went through the tackle box, trying this and that.  The biggest smallmouth ate a crawler, but most memorable was one Skylar caught on a crankbait she picked out of her tackle box.  It was the first time she caught a bass on a lure where she made the cast and set the hook herself, and it while it wasn’t very big, I’ve never been more proud.

As the sun got a little lower, the action picked up, but the girls were a little spent.  I fished some likely looking shorelines myself and put on a mini-clinic on how to catch smallies on soft plastics—caught about 5 fish and missed a few others before we had drifted back to camp.

When we got back to the ramp we met a gal who was about 3 weeks into a Lake Itasca to the Gulf of Mexico kayak trip.  She had the world’s smallest tent, but seemed to have everything she needed, including a pink flamingo for a mascot.  She looked just like someone I had met a few years ago doing the same thing, but when asked she replied “No one would do this twice!” A solar panel on the kayak kept her computer and phone charged.  The strange thing to me was that she is from California, and I didn’t get the vibe she had even been to Minnesota before.

Here she is just before I gave her a shove and on her way down stream

Our dinner that night was Easy Mac [turned out horrible, turns out you need a microwave for this kind of mac and cheese] and hot dogs.  I had foil and butter with in case a walleye or pike was foolish enough to end up in the boat, but our species this day included smallmouth bass, channel catfish, and redhorse sucker.  Skylar still can’t quite figure out why we eat some kinds of fish but not others.  After our nutritious dinner it was time for a Minnesota campfire classic– s’mores—I even ate one.  Finally the fire died down and it was time to turn in.  We soon found that a huge emergence of stoneflies was going on, and they were EVERYWHERE, including in the tent.  All of my explanations of how harmless they were fell on deaf ears, and the girls would not rest until all had met their demise by flip flop.  After my stories of sasquatches in these parts on the way up, it was decided that the safest place in the tent in the event of an attack would be in the middle.  Savannah [of course] claimed this spot for herself, and the girls watched a movie on their DVD player.  The night was uneventful, no sasquatches, no yetis, not even a woodchuck.

The following morning was the kind of morning we all hope for—a bit cool, but sunny and glorious in all ways.  The girls were delighted that I had hot chocolate fixins, so I made a batch and got the fire going again.  To keep the nutrition and chocolate theme going they had Cocoa Puffs for breakfast.  I made them wash the few dishes we had while I broke camp, and then it was time to get back on the water.  I backed the boat down to the ramp to let some water drain out, and a guy who was part of a party that had just launched a driftboat commented on how much water was coming out of my boat.  “Well this boat has seen a lot of use and yeah, it has a slow leak, and because of how I had it parked last night the water didn’t drain out yadda yadda…and it’s only a couple gallons yadda yadda…” was my response.  So I launch and tie up to the dock.  Then I notice that the driftboat that the three guys had just launched was about half full of water.  I pointed this out to the guy who had been so nice to point out how much water came out of my boat, and suggested he put the plug in.  Well it wasn’t his boat, it belonged to one of the guys doing the shuttle, and he didn’t know where the plug was, and the yeti cooler on the dock wasn’t going to be much help for bailing.  I had a spare drain plug, figured out where it went and grabbed a couple of buckets and we had it mostly bailed out in a few minutes.

By now, my girls were on the dock watching the show.  We all got aboard, shoved off and wished the guy good luck.  We headed off upriver to where we had caught fish the day before.  It was mostly a repeat of the day before, no crazy fast action, but enough to keep everyone interested.  They had a double header on at one point, the smallie Savannah had on was the biggest of the trip but it got away just as it got to the boat.  Skylar caught one that ate an errant cast that landed 5 five feet from the transom while we were anchored in pretty swift current.

Note the custom pink worm Beetle Spin thing we put together that it ate

I even broke out the fly rod and managed to get one on a craw pattern.

We were in the home stretch, maybe a half mile from the ramp.  The water was pretty clear, and I could see the bottom pretty well in five feet of water.  When the conditions are like this I enjoy drifting along, spotting different fish.  I was seeing a lot of fish that at first I thought were big redhorse, but I soon realized they were mostly catfish, and big ones at that.  There must have been 50 in one short section, most looked to be 5 to 10 lbs.  We were out of bait by this time, or we would have anchored up and exercised a few kitties.  Next time.

Back at the ramp I pulled the boat up on the gravel and told the girls they should make some casts just below the access, as I had spotted a couple smallies there the day before.  When I got to my vehicle, my buckets and drain plug were waiting for me, along with ten bucks—that was a nice gesture.  I pulled the boat out, and after I had it strapped down I went to check on the girls.  They were still casting, but hadn’t quite made it to the best spot, an area where there was a nice rock pile about 30 feet from shore.  I had a great vantage from up on the high bank, and when I walked just a bit downstream, sure enough, there was a nice smallie patrolling the rocks, on the hunt for a well-placed Beetle Spin.  I was just about to call the girls to the area when I spotted another fish out there—a muskie!  Looked to be in the low 30” range, and would be sure provide a large amount of excitement if it was at the end of a little girl’s line.  I had them take turns casting at it, they tried a Rapala and a wacky worm, but no luck, that muskie was having none of it and left for calmer waters.  Then Skylar had a smallie nose right up to her wacky worm, I said “leave it…leave it…now give it a little twitch!” and she proceeded to jerk it about 4 feet, and Mr. Smallmouth went the same direction the muskie went.

You can’t see it, but there is a muskie 30 feet in front of Skylar

So now we were left with only one more thing to do—the promised stop at Treasure City.  With all their fish they had each accrued $12 to spend, and they managed to spend most of it on knick-knacks.  If you’ve never been there, it really does deserve a stop, the amount of crap they have crammed in there is impressive. Less than two hours later we were home again, already making plans for next year.

I’m not 100% sure what has caused to uptick in the interest in chasing muskies with the fly rod [those guys in Northern Wisconsin run a great program and probably have A LOT to do with it].  But despite what social media postings may lead you to believe [hardly a day will pass this summer without a fly-caught muskie showing up on Facebook], catching a muskie on a fly is still one of the biggest challenges to fly rodders. No matter where you decide to flail, a typical day of fly casting for muskies involves many hours of flogging the waters with the heaviest fly rod you own, casting a fly the size of a squirrel.  At some point during the day a muskie will eat your fly, at which point you will probably be so surprised that you will either not react at all, or worse yet, raise your rod tip in a trout-style hook set.  Both of these are likely to result in bad words and no pictures.  Spending time on high percentage waters, like the fine rivers of northern Wisconsin will up the odds that you will get multiple shots per outing.

But did you know that there are high percentage waters right here in the Twin Cities?  It’s true, there are over a dozen lakes right here in the Metro that have strong, fishable populations of muskies. Lakes like Independence, Eagle, White Bear, Forest—these all have muskies— with good numbers AND size.  Every one of these lakes has produced many fish over 50 inches, and these fisheries compare favorably with any other muskie water anywhere.

Here  is a typical metro area muskie, this one ate a popper

There is lots more to muskie fishing than just catching fish, and if you are thinking of planning a muskie trip to the North Woods you should do so.  To smell the pines and the fresh air, to hear the loons but not the cars, to take in a North Country Sunset, these are all things you should do at least once a year.

But if you want to get a primer or a refresher course on muskie fishing, perhaps you want to see if you are up the many hours of flogging with the big rod, maybe you want to get tuned up for your big trip, here is what I am offering:  From now through ice up, muskies are available to flyrodders on several of my favorite lakes, and you and a friend can get in on the action for only $250!  This is a weeknight venture, I will meet you and your partner [you can fish alone, too] at a local lake at 5:00 and we will fish until dark.  All tackle will be provided, you just need to show up with a can-do attitude, and let me put you on the fish.  I have my favorite lakes, where we will fish will depend on conditions and where you are coming from.  It is likely that the boat launch will be 30 minutes or less from where you live or work.

I didn’t say it would be easy, but it is totally doable, and it is likely that we’ll have some good chances at muskies, and probably catch a few bass and pike along the way.  You’ll learn the water, learn the techniques, and be in great shape for your next adventure.

While I am promoting this primarily to fly rodders, anglers with all types of gear are welcome.  If you want to fly fish but want to split the trip with someone using gear, that’s just fine.  [Don’t worry, the guy with the fly rod will always get the front of the boat!]

Here is me with a bigger than average one from a favorite lake.  I didn’t measure it, let’s call it 49 3/4″.  You can see the tail of the fly in its mouth.

This is the fly I caught it on, I tied it in 5 minutes before I left to go fishing

These are more typical of what I use, not too big, but they move plenty of water.  Easy to cast on a 10 weight and the fish like to eat them !

MUSKIE FISHING WITH A FLY “TOP TEN LIST”

1.Fish water with a good population of fish

2.Fish when the conditions are right–wind is bad-bad for casting, boat control, and line management. Low light periods are key, especially during summer.  My perfect muskie fishing day would be light wind, overcast, maybe a little light rain.

3.Have the right equipment, a 10 weight rod [or heavier] with a line to match.

4.Use a short, heavy leader with wire bite tippet.

5.Strip the fly to within a few feet of your rod tip EVERY cast, watching for following fish.

6.Be an efficient caster [can you make a 50′ cast with one back cast?]

7.Use a big fly with a big sharp hook [at least a 4/0 or 5/0].  But don’t over do it–if your fly is too big, casting stops being fun

8.When a fish eats your fly, set the hook with a “strip set”.

9.Have good boat control.

10.Have realistic expectations–casting all day for one or two “eats” is standard.

About a dozen years ago I got a call from a local photographer friend named Jules.  It seems his office was working on a new muskie book, and they needed a good sized muskie to take pictures of.  “Sure, I can catch you one.  When do you need it by?”  I’m thinking I’ll have a month or at least a week to produce.  “We have a shoot on Friday”.  This was on a Wednesday.  “Uh, OK…I’ll see what I can do.”

On Thursday morning, Jules dropped off a huge cooler for me to use as a livewell, along with some permits that would allow me to transport the fish.  The livewell took up most of the floor in my jon boat.

I left work early that day, maybe around 2:00, and I pointed my truck towards a favorite lake.  At this point in time, this lake had a high and very catchable population of muskies, although they did run on the small side, lots of 30 – 40 inchers.  In those days it was rare for me to get blanked in a session out there.  I was quite confident I could catch a muskie there on any given day, the question was could I catch one big enough to suit their needs, they needed a fish 45 inches or bigger.

I had the boat floating by about 3:00, it then took about five minutes to get the coffin-sized livewell filled.  I buzzed over to a favorite shoreline and started casting one of my home made coyote bucktails.  It didn’t take long before I had a fish on—and then it was off just as fast.  No worries, I saw that it was in the low 30 inch class.  A good sign though, “At least the fish are active”, I thought.  After another ten minutes of casting I briefly messed around some docks checking for bass, but quickly realized that I’m not going to get my muskie that way.  By now I was at a prominent rocky point.   I picked my muskie rod back up and started casting my bucktail to the edge of the shallow weeds, then worked out farther to where the point dropped into deeper water.  I started thinking about a weedbed on the other end of the lake, and was contemplating a move when I got a jolting strike.  I reared back and buried the hooks into the big fish.  I knew right away this was the one I needed, so I took it a little easier than usual.  After a minute or so of head shaking and some short fast runs, the fish was tired out.   I waited until the fish stopped thrashing and quickly lifted it into the boat, one hand around the peduncle [the area in front of the tail], the other on a gill cover [I don’t net muskies, and I’ve hand landed HUNDREDS of muskies this way].  I swung the fish into the open cooler, quickly popped out the barbless hook, and then shut the lid and sat on it.  Victory was mine!  I was pretty excited, and was shaking a little [a lot] when I pulled up the trolling motor, started the outboard, and raced back to the access.  I had the boat back on the trailer in record time and headed towards Jules’s office.  A quick time check showed it was now 4:05.  I stopped at a convenience store and called Jules from a payphone [if you don’t remember, payphones were these things that you could use to call somebody when you weren’t at home or work.  They would be found in many public areas, any one could use them, and it cost a quarter to place a call.  You would actually have to know the persons number, and dial it manually, but they actually worked pretty well].

“I’ve got a fish, and I’m on my way!”  He was pretty excited and assured me they would have the big tank ready when I got there.  Thirty minutes later we were moving my fish into a BIG aquarium, and there was much congratulations and queries about the catch.  We were leaning on my boat, and I showed him the lure I caught the fish on.  He then noticed a bass rod with a jig and craw tied on—“WTF Chris, were you bass fishing too?”  I sheepishly explained that yeah, there were some good docks that often give up a big largemouth, and yeah, had I skipped that I may have had the boat back to the dock in 50 minutes instead of 60.  Good laughs were had all around, and he promised to buy me a beer.

That fish was prominently featured in the muskie book, and I recognized it in a few ads and magazine articles in the next couple of years after that.   When the photo shoot was done, the muskie was returned to the lake, probably very confused but relieved to be back home.

Jules gave me a copy of the old-timey picture at the top, featuring my fish.  This picture headed up a chapter on the history of muskie fishing.

“Nice fish!” Gunnar yelled from the back of the boat.  I  looked back to see a nice sized muskie closely tracking his spinnerbait.  “Why is he swimming sideways?” Gunnar asked as he went into a classic Gunnar figure -8 [too much line out, moving the lure too slowly (I never think anyone does it right though {I should talk, I can’t remember the last time I got one to eat on a figure – 8!})].  It was true, the muskie was tracking the lure off to the side instead of right behind it.  “I bet that fish only has one eye!” I said as I watched the curious behavior. Around one time on a figure-eight, and the around the back of the boat, the fish kept its left eye just inches from the lure. Eventually the fish grew weary of Gunnar’s boatside antics and sank back into the depth of the Lower Two Fish Hole.

It was another great day chasing river muskies. The stars had aligned perfectly for a mid-week outing, and Gunnar was as pumped as I was to get after them, as he was 20 minutes early getting to my house.  Last minute tackle wrangling ensued, but soon we were on our way.  When we arrived at the boat landing early that morning, we were greeted by water that was a little higher than I had expected.  Mind you, it was now at the PERFECT level, but it had jumped almost a foot overnight, and when combined with dropping water temps I was a little concerned that the fish might be in a funk.  My worries were unfounded though, as our first stop at the Big Cottonwood Hole had a hot fish behind my bait right away.  It’s always great to move a fish right away.

We had moved a couple of other fish in other spots before Gunnar’s weird follow, so things were looking promising.  After that follow, we fished down to the bottom of the hole.  I changed it up, and put on a Bulldog.  Bulldogs are a wildly popular muskie lure, but I rarely use one, and had never actually caught a muskie on one.  Working our way back up along the deep current seam, I pitched the Bulldog up and across, and allowed it to sink into the ten foot depths of the hole before beginning my retrieve.  They really look great in the water, and it is hard to imagine how a fish could resist one. Right when we got back to the spot where the unusual following fish had been sighted, my Bulldog got SLAMMED.  After a normal muskie battle–brief but spirited, I had the fish firmly by the gill cover.  A quick check of the fish’s face revealed that my theory was true–the fish’s right eye was glazed over.  I was glad the fish was still able to feed, and got it back in the river after a quick photo.  The fish doused me with a tail splash as it took off, giving me confidence that the fish was  none the worse for wear.   I hope someday One Eyed Willie and I will meet again.

We raised a couple more that day, and even came back to the follows with the Bulldog, which I was now sure was a sure-fire tactic.  It wasn’t to be, and the ran was increasing by the minute.  Our plans to end the day at a spot near the access was foiled by shore bound anglers huddled under an umbrella while they waited for a bite.  I’m not about to fish from my boat in front of shore bound anglers so we put it on the trailer.

Only one fish today, but anytime you are in the “plus” column at the end of a day of muskie fishing it was a good day!

I couldn’t take it any more, and decided to check a section of river I had not been on before.  Despite the low water, I convinced myself I could get up the river far enough from my chosen access to be worthwhile.  Just to cover all bases, I swapped out the good prop that was on my trusty 30 Yamaha to an old, beat up one.  I figured I would be doing more grinding through rocks than running at high speed anyway.  I also brought waders in case I had to walk the boat through any super shallow areas.  I have fished above and below this section, and was excited to be “connecting the dots” between a couple of access points.

I was really on a muskie mission, but this river section also boasts a nice smallie population, which can prove to be a major distraction when I supposed to be targeting something else.  I am convinced that the smallies that live in this part of the river are like a “subspecies”–they look different, and scrap like no other smallies–wild, red-eyed, hunchbacked, jumping freaks!

After about an hour of alternating between put-putting up the river at idle speed, and occasionally opening it up on deep bends [and once getting out to walk the boat through a very shallow section],I recognized a landmark and decided to start fishing.  Depending on the water, I alternated between casting for muskies and smallmouth.  It didn’t seem to matter what I threw or where I threw it, the resident pike were on fire and attacked everything. It was no surprise where the smallies were hanging–you smallie junkies know what I mean when I say “rocky shorelines with just the right size rocks and just the right depth and just the right speed”.  There was plenty of this water around, and wherever the shoreline was sand dominated, every logjam had either a brownie or a pike waiting to ambush something.  All water that was slower and deeper got flailed for muskies, and by the time it was raining hard enough to get me to quit, five nice muskies had shown themselves, no takers though.  That’s alright–I know where they live, and I’ll be back.

It was nice to see I still had it in me to do some exploring, and although I know I would have caught more fish had I spent the day on familiar water, I’m glad to have some new water to call my own.  It may look like all I have to show for the day is a couple more dings on an already beat up prop, but I do know where several 20 lb. plus muskies are living right now, and I do know a rock pile with a bunch of 15-20″ smallies on it, and maybe it’s just because I spend so much time fishing close to the metro, but I do know of a section of river that has far more eagles, deer, and otters than fishermen.