My father, Max Senior, fished for Muskie from the 1920’s until 1958 when he finally caught his first. I had the “pleasure” of being with him when he caught it. I put the word in quotes for a reason. My father was stern and unbending, and one of the hardest men I have ever known. So while the experience on one hand was rewarding, at the same time it was also somewhat frightening.
It was my very first fishing trip to Canada. We were up on Obabikon Bay at Lake of the Woods in Ontario. Camp was on a small island just a hundred yards or so off of the Aulneau Peninsula. The shoreline, inlets, coves and swampy areas on the east shore of Obabikon Bay are prime Muskie and Northern waters. My brother, Dad and I had been fishing these waters for most of the week we were there. We had caught plenty of Northern, some Smallmouth, and Walleye, but had not seen a Muskie. But, this time it was just dad and me in the boat.
We went into a small narrow cove that wandered around and around for a mile or so. We had not fished this cove before and were having good luck as we caught a number of small Northern; “Hammer Handles” dad liked to call them. Eventually we reached then end of it and it was one of the prettier little places we had seen. A huge 30 foot square flat rock barred the end of it. There was a swampy area off to the right. On the left shore were 2 evenly spaced rows of 3 logs rising several feet straight out of the water. They had obviously been placed there for a dock or some other human use. There was about 30 yards of open water in the center of all of this.
I was rowing the boat and dad made one final cast right up against the flat faced rock. He let his spoon sink for a few seconds and began retrieving it when he got a dandy strike. This fish, whatever it was headed first for the logs and dad got his head turned back just in time. Then the fish took off for the swamp and once again dad managed to stop him. Meanwhile I was doing my best to keep the prow of the boat facing the fish so dad would be in the best position. Suddenly the fish swan right at and under the boat and again dad stopped him. But as he turned the fishes head he got a glimpse of it.
Dad turned as white as the shirts he always wore. He glanced at me with a malevolent look and turning back to the fish he said; “It’s a Muskie and it is your fault if it gets off!”
Oh my! What frightening words! But I was up to the task and now I was really paying attention. That fish made another 1/2 dozen runs trying to escape but eventually dad got him to the side of the boat, reached over and grabbed it and brought it in the boat. It was a dandy 42 inch Muskie. Not a trophy by any means but fantastic for a first Muskie.
I was delighted that dad had finally caught his first Muskie but I was even more delighted that I did not have to swim back to camp!
Now
Read about my first Muskie
Dustin’s Muskie
And
More about Lake of the Woods