Well .... It's a Musky

I have been inspired by many of the things I have witnessed on this blog of yours.
None more than the muskies from the great north.
I had committed myself this winter to getting one. New stick, lots of flies a new old boat and some dirt road miles were needed.

We were fishing a remote pond that I have digging around and gathering intel for about a year now.
I had fished it once in the fall with no luck.

Small pond with very little visible structure. Started with the inlet and outlet, no signs.
I will say the craigslist 5hp and 1955 new to me 12'er performed flawlessly.

Clouds and rain all day, the day after the full moon, not a soul for miles.... the odds were in our favor.

Investigating the shallow end of the lake we spotted one stump sticking up from the water. 10-12' depth surrounding it, it was the only break in the flat grey light. It was a sign.

Posted up and started probing, fly changes every twenty casts it wasn't long before I spotted our first follower, a hot fish tracking behind my fly like a WWI era submarine, I dove the rod tip under water and started my figure 8, the fish continued to track the feathers, along side the boat, parallel now, just inches under the water...... boooom.... she spooked and was back to the depths.

Argghhh.... that was enough to get my heart pumping. At least we knew we were near them. Over the next hour we continued to have 1o or 12 more follows, all fish in the 25-30" class interested but not committing to the bite.  It was both amazing to watch and intensely frustrating.

Finally out of the blue I had an eat, early in the retrieve no visual contact. First musky on  the board.
A beautiful spunky 25"er, I managed one shot of it in the cradle and it lost it's mind and flipped out of the net.

A lot of joy after a "scud" sized fish. He ate an articulated Redspot fly my friend Mike tied up. A hollow flat wing, with jungle cock eyes, a classly tie. I fished that fly and it's twin the rest of the day.

Afternoon was quickly dissolving and we had one more shot to land another fish before we needed to hit the dirt for 300 plus miles of road towards home. Shuffled down to the outlet again and could see a graveyard of old growth timber on the pond bottom. Methodically casting, retrieve and into the figure 8. One fish coming in hot on the tail, it's body pushing a wake of water near the surface, parallel to the boat now it's eyes breaking the surface, so intent on crushing it's prey. Lunging ahead, gills flared and totally missing the fly.... never to be seen again.

Great day on the water all around, the offer still stands for anyone interested in making the drive.
Live it up

High Country CO Archery Bull Moose Hunt

Tipping my hat to the fact this is a fishing blog, Old Man Wilkie has granted me rights to publish hunting photos and stories as well, so calm your pants. Okay, he hasn't formally, but I figured he would back me....especially this time.

My good buddy, Joe, drew a bull moose tag in Colorado for a fantastic unit just northeast of us. To provide context, this is truly a 'once-in-a-lifetime hunt'--once you draw it (successful in the field or not) you are not allowed to enter the draw for a CO bull moose for the rest of your life, period. Furthermore, you have to put in for 3 years to just be granted access to the lottery drawing. I know guys that have been putting in for over 20 years without success. Joe drew it on his second chance, year 5. Some ol' timers were salty, needless to say. Additionally, Joe reviewed all of the 9 total tags given for the geographically huge unit and noticed they all choose 'rifle' (method of take is up to the tag holder). Joe decided to switch his tag for achery, making him the only one on this planet with a bull moose tag in his pocket for 3 weeks early in September for hundreds of square miles. I was all in.

Joe had been scouting all summer long and taking good notes on bulls he has seen. I accompanied him 3 weeks ago on a scouting mission and in 2 hrs one evening and 2.5 hours the next morning we had spotted over 20 different moose, maybe 3 worthy of the tag.

Season opened this past Saturday. We headed in Thursday, setting up the canvas wall tent in the dark. Camp came together nice; solid tent, stove, cots, and covered outdoor kitchen....we did it up.

Friday morning hit and we headed out with our binos and soon spotted a nice bull.

We took note, watched him head off into the woods, and carried on scouting. Soon the sun was up high and temps rose so we decided to peel off in the woods and see if we could jump some blue grouse. I didn't walk 20 yards and then all of a sudden the grass in front of me erupted. We ended up shooting two of the bigger males with a single shot 20 gauge my old man gave me when I was 11 years old. The thing is so small you can fit it in a pant leg. Grouse and eggs more than satisfied our mid-day hunger.

Two more guys showed up in camp Friday afternoon. We all went out on our own scouting Friday evening, all returning with no major sightings. The season opened the next morning and Joe and I decided to go after the bull we had seen the previous morning. The bull was nowhere to be found, even amongst the 2 cows and 3 calves we watched graze in a large open park. We moved to another drainage and actually jumped a dandy of a bull in the woods unexpectedly. He pegged us at 30 years, forcing us to freeze as we stood. A chase ensued to no avail. Back at camp another group member told of seeing a shooter bull that morning in another giant park that was a few miles away. We all geared up and went in to that park at 5 pm. We dropped down a timbered hillside making our way to the park boundary. All of us walking nonchalantly, Joe all of a sudden froze in place looking to his left. A big ass bull moose stood 50 yards away, a smaller bull behind him. Joe put on a stalk but, damn, the bull knew something was up and remained 50-60 yards out in the park. We suddenly heard a loud grunt and noticed another giant bull had entered the park roughly 600 yards away. The third bull met up with the other two and we proceeded to watch them until the sun went down. Close, but no cigar.

Our minds made up, we headed back into that big park at first light. Sure enough, the original big bull and smaller friend were out in the middle eating away. Problem was they were 300 yards away and closer to woods on the far side.  We decided to be patient and watched their every move for 2 hours.  While doing so, we listened to bull elk bugling and watched the two moose start to spar each other, echoing the open value with sounds of colliding antler as the sun rose over the mountains.  I felt I was in some National Geographic video. 

Slowly they started to turn and head back to the north side of the park.  Joe made the executive decision to head back into the woods and flank them to the north.  Winds were not in our favor and the 3 of us broke away from Joe as he went into a clump of trees.  We pushed further around the point and soon saw the moose within 100 yards of where we expected Joe.  

However, the bulls decided to turn and headed straight towards us.  I told the guys we needed to move another 25 feet and hunker down.  The big bull was in my view now and I ranged him at 70 yards.  As soon as I did, Joe appears in the woods next to us with an arrow knocked and release loaded.  Head-nods were exchanged.  We watched them graze for another 5 minutes, listening to them sneeze and grunt.  Finally, Joe started walking and he didn’t stop until the big bull looked up.  28 yards.  THWAK!!! 

The big bull ran off wounded with Joe in hunt pursuit.  We looked at each other in awe, amazed at what just unfolded in front of us and now wondering why Joe was running at a 1,000 pound animal he just pissed off and was going to likely push further into the woods.  I guess out of instinct, he did not want that bull to go far and decided he was going to put another arrow in him.  He put 2 more in for good measure; the bull lying dead only a minute or two after being struck by the first.

Joe appeared out of the woods shaking like fat girl writing a love poem.  Euphoric is an understatement.  He dropped to the ground and we took it all in.

The bull is a stud Shiras Moose.  He was roughly 1,000 lbs.  It took all 4 or us 6.5 hours to skin, quarter, and haul him back out to the trucks.

We ended up with 4 giant igloo coolers packed to the brim (the hanging weight at the butcher was 452 lbs!).

 

Whiskey flowed that night like the Mississippi.  Joe fell asleep in mid speech as exhaustion set in.

Truly unforgettable.

Hex

I set up a drift boat trip on Sunday with a guide friend of ours. I had a favor to repay to my friend Nate and I could think of no better way than a day on the water.

We fished with Boz from Maine River Guides, if you are in the area you would be smart to call.

We floated the West Branch in the comfort of a custom Boulder Boatworks drifter and caught many salmonoids. I have photos of none of them. We had huge steaks and cold Budweisers for a shore lunch with not a photo to prove it. I do not have a photo of the dry fly dropper I was fishing that whilst trying to land a small salmon become lodged in my index finger. Nor does there exist a photo of our guide removing it.

The one photo I do have of the trip is below. You will have to take my word that it was an awesome day.

We were really just killing time.

Waiting for nightfall and a potential hatch of sailboat sized mayflys.

We drove north and left our custom boat behind for an old tin jobber stashed on the side of a lonely pond. The three of us climbed in and waited.

We did not have to wait long to see the signs of what was to come.



Soon we did a lot of this

I was three hours late to work on Monday.
Thank you ,

Now boarding.....

Well boys the skiff is done. As always there is a free seat to any Solidhookups / BFC member or hang around like myself. I hope that someone will take me up on that invite because this little skiff rips and loves every minute of it. Thank you to all who have donated stickers.... there are room for more.

I took my brother the spin fisherman out with my dog on Sunday, finally fished a spot I have been gazing upon for 12 years. It was not nearly as good as I dreamed but awesome to finally be there. There is a 30" brown just above the head of this island, he was electro shocked a few years ago..... might try again some day.

4 photos that represent fly fishing in Maine in the last 10 days

High heat.... low water

The boat that waits for Wilkie et all ......

My drakes are brown... and ugly

High heat ... low water = small fish
Live Life