The Skunk Monster

March 12, 2012

Excitement about the anticipation of catching fish peaks prior to a fishing trip for just about every angler.  In my case, I stay up late organizing tackle, sharpening hooks, checking line and changing it if need be, doing everything I can to get ready for my upcoming trip.  I look forward to each trip as if it's the trip of a lifetime.  After all that, I can't sleep as I lay there thinking about the the upcoming adventure.

When it comes to fishing, people do so for varying reasons.  Some anglers are just plain happy to get out, to relax, to be with friends.  Not me, although each trip worth the effort, and as the saying goes, it beats work, there's nothing like catching fish.  But when I venture out on my fishing trips, I plan to catch fish.  Don't get me wrong, I value everything there is about a fishing trip, the serenity and peace, fishing with friends, the beauty that God gave us, but catching fish is what's always on my mind.  It's an obsession.

So, what happens when things don't quite work out?  There are many factors that can influence the outcome of your fishing trip, weather, mechanical problems, personal problems, tackle problems, just about anything can turn the most well prepared fishing trip into a giant zero.  Getting blanked, not catching a single fish, striking out, what ever you call it, can happen to any angler.  I call it being attacked by the skunk monster.

For me, it happens so infrequently that when it does, I literally ache inside until my next trip.  That said, the same excitement and anticipation dominates my mind set prior to the next trip and the cycle begins anew.  I probably only get skunked about every five years or so.  My current streak of catching at least one fish lasted about five years, and that streak came to a screeching halt.

I was attacked brutally by the skunk monster.  The skunk monster has extreme powers, many claim that those powers are supernatural to humble even the most accomplished angler.  I don't consider myself in that category, but I still hate the monster.

A couple years ago, earlier in the week, as I put in for leave in advance of that fateful trip, and maybe before that when my good fishing friend, Bob, began planned that trip, the skunk monster was whipped up a whopper of a low pressure system and pushed it our way.  The day prior to our trip, several inches of rain dropped in a very short amount of time, leaving drivers stranded on local roads and causing just about every small stream to flood over their banks, dumping a gazillion gallons of water into the river causing it to flood, and sending the banks of all of the lakes in our area into the trees.

Bob and I had planned to fish for walleye and musky.  Mostly, I wanted to target musky and he was looking forward to mostly catching walleye.  The plan was to take his seven year old son, Carson, along and maybe give him his first chance at catching his first walleye.  Prior to the storm, the water was clear with temperatures rising slowly from our mild winter.  The musky and walleye most likely would be on a feeding binge.  Local fishing reports indicated that might be the case, so we were very excited.

Bob and Carson were after ol' marble eyes.  I had my sights on catching a musky.

Mr. skunk monster had other plans.  Not only did he dump a bunch of rain all around our region, he also whipped up some pretty stiff winds.  When we launched at one of our favorite spots, the water, surprisingly, was still in pretty good shape.  Water clarity wasn't all that bad, even still a bit green, but you could see the sediment building up from runoff.  After we launched and fished a little while, you could see the water level rising, submerging the bases of trees where it was dry just an hour earlier.

At the time of the launch, the winds weren't really all that bad.  You could easily fish a jig for walleye and control the boat.  But that didn't last.  Not even an hour after we launched, the skunk monster unleashed the power of his sustained 15 to 20 mile per hour winds with gusts well over 30.  He unleashed winds that ricocheting off the cliffs, leaving no place to hide, and making boat control nearly impossible much less giving the angler the ability to feel the bottom when jig fishing.

Such conditions make it tough to control the boat, and I have to give Bob a lot of credit on that trip, because he did everything in his power to keep me in a position to catch fish, while still trying to fish himself, and also give his son a chance to catch something.

Early on in the trip, Bob managed to hook up and land a decent beautifully colored walleye.  Not long after that, at our next spot, I had my only chance of the day.  I had a bite that I didn't convert.  It was the only bite that I would feel all day long.

My friend Bob with the only fish of the day, with his son Carson looking on all smiles.  Bob avoided the skunk monster, but Carson and I fell victim!

Let me tell you something about Bob's boy, Carson.  He did a fine job casting and working his lure.  Most kids at that age lose interest fast unless there's a lot of action, and even then sometimes they'd rather do something else.  Not Carson.  He fished the majority of the time knowing that he could catch his first walleye ever, and he was determined.  He's going to be some kind of angler when he gets older.  He's very analytical.  He watches, listens, and learns.

Early in the trip, I was casting a huge musky lure, a soft plastic bait called a Bulldawg while Carson looked on.  Like most musky anglers, I worked my "Dawg" back to the boat until I had about a foot and a half of line out, plunged my rod tip a foot or two under the water, and directed the lure in a large wide figure eight pattern hoping that a musky had followed it or was lurking under the boat as they often do.  Sometimes musky will strike in that situation, and you never know when.  I pulled out my lure only to see Carson working his four inch twister tail in a figure eight pattern.  You go boy!!!!

The water rose rapidly and soon changed from a green color with about a foot and a half visibility, to murky, to muddy, in a matter of a few hours.  The window of opportunity shrank rapidly for me.

Musky fishing has an inherent risk when it comes to the skunk monster.  The skunk monster thrives on the backs of musky anglers world wide.  They don't call musky the fish of ten thousand casts without a good reason.  And the skunk monster is to blame!  Or is he?

Fishing huge musky lures like these custom made gliders
won't chase away the skunk monster, but will give you a
much better chance at catching muskies than smaller baits.

It was my choice to only fish for muskies, and I knew the risk.  Musky fishing, as I noted in a previous post, is my newest fishing addiction.  Even in the best of conditions, fishing the best musky holding water, using the right lures and tackle, there's no guarantee that you'll get a musky to bite much less land one.  So, I have to be honest.  My skunk yesterday was mostly me.  And it's OK.

I'm learning about musky fishing, and to become good at it, I have to leave the tackle behind that would tempt me to fish for other more willing species.  I can expect the skunk monster to attack me more often in the future.  I can also expect that, if I stick with it, I'll also catch more musky than I have in all of my years of fishing combined this year.  Well, at least I hope so!