Circa Fall of 2022, My old man and I were on our annual autumn fishing trip on our favorite stretch of a northern Wisconsin River. We struggled a bit due to the wind and weather that trip, but Dad still managed to catch his personal best smallie on a lure he had never fished before.
This was also the trip we decided that as much fun as consistently putting smallmouth bass in the boat is, it was long past time to put some serious effort, and casts, in to catching a Musky.
We didn’t have much luck in that effort, but I wrote the following missed connection during that trip for some fellow anglers who were also setting out to do just that.
“You: Lime green Jeep with a Wisconsin “MR MUSKY” vanity plate parked at the state park boat landing of my favorite log and rock infested northern flowage. You had some sort of boat trouble when you tried to launch your boat the first time, and dad and I were only shit talking you a little bit as we were smashing fatty smallies on Heddon moss bosses along the opposite bank. We crossed paths later in the morning as we putted by each other in the narrows, and my old man told you about the fat 20” small jaw we hit that morning (in truth it was an 18” fish).
It wasn’t until I was back at the landing and noticed the aforementioned jeep and vanity plate, as well as your collection of bambam fly guy musky fly stickers on the back, that I realized you were the same kind of masochist I wish to be, chasing muskies on flies on a body of water that I’ve never seen a musky move on with conventional tackle.
If I had noticed your fly rods earlier as my dad had, I would have asked more questions or at least contributed more to the conversation than the awkward head nod and small wave as we motored by.
Hit me up, Mr. Miyagi, I must learn your ways.”
Muck Fusky,
w.c.junior
Ouisconsin Raconteur 