Ice Ice Baby...

Turning the page from one season to the next is always exciting.  For me, it's the opportunity to chase different creatures under different circumstances.  For the next few months, this will happen under a layer of ice.  I'm cool with that, just like many of you.  But, before I get caught up in what's about to happen (tomorrow morning to be exact), I want to look back at what has already gone down.  I realize that it's been months since I've journaled.  To date, this has been my longest dry spell ever.  I'm sorry for that, and I appreciate your continued support in following and waiting.

To say that my life has been crazy would be an understatement.  When I say crazy, I mean crazy in a good way.  I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams.  Much of what has occured over the last few months is hard to wrap my head around in one journal entry.  I'll sum it up the best I know how - with photo's and stories.

As many of you know, my world is ever evolving.  While I am still a fishing guide, it's only one piece to my puzzle.  My career in television production has grown and taken me places far and wide.  I'm sure I'll look back on it some day and have a better grasp of it all, but for now it is almost a blur.  I take my camera with me in hopes of capturing epic moments.  The rest is available for you to view on the Outdoor Channel in the coming months. 

I spent a stint in West Virginia filming for one of our shows called, Destination Polaris.  We rode ATV's through the mountains and clouds - literally.  I took a white water rapid plunge and conquered one of the top 5 rapids in the world.  They score it a 5+ on a scale of 1 to 5.  Lets just say that taking a 15 foot waterfall is something everyone should experience.  Because I was feeling tough, I jumped out and took one of the rapids laying on my back - sorry mom.  I also let go of my fear of heights on that trip and took a zip line down a mountain.  Wearing a camera, all of this was recorded for your viewing pleasure (see my helmet above).

South Dakota is the obvious pheasant mecca.  I left civilization for 5 days and experienced my best pheasant shoot to date.  Not much needs to be said except for these 3 things.  Great friends, great hunting, and great time.

When I think of Cape Cod, hunting is the last thing that comes to mind.  Well, until a few weeks ago.  Now when I think of this place, I think of coyotes and a funny fella by the name of Brian Downs.  He's pictured on the far right, and he's the guy that almost washed our truck away.  This hunt will be tough to forget.  Here's the jist - deflate your tires and drive the beach.  Carrying an Ipad logged in to Google Earth, we stop when the screen shows an opening in the sand dunes.  Get out, climb a sand dune and try to call coyotes out of the brush and into the rolling sand hills.  All the while the waves crash the shore behind you.  Then, go back to the truck and repeat these steps over and again until a coyote comes running or mother nature raises the tide and threatens to wash you away.  Both of these things happened. 

Over the course of 3 months, I've spent time in 11 different states.  Some for periods longer than I would have liked, and others not long enough.  I will conclude this by saying that Midwest folk are normal.  Period.

Muskies and Mille Lacs are two things that consume my November every year.  I'd love to buy a place up there in November and spend every day fishing it.  This year I hit the big lake only 4 times.  It was time well spent, but not because of the muskies.  I caught my largest snot rocket to date, and blanked on the lunge.  Good weather, good friends and a few monster fish made it all worth the while.  Even when Roseanne grabbed my heart and with her fat belly she crushed it.

In between all the fun I have managed to bag 3 deer.  One with my bow and 2 with the gun.  In the process, I experienced an evening of bow hunting that Michael Waddell would be envious of.  Even though I didn't let the string fly, I'll never forget the moment of having 8 bucks in view, and two 160 class monsters within 20 yards at the same time.  To walk out of that field that night with a doe in hand seems odd, but the full story would require an entire journal entry.

I'll conclude with a season of Thanks.  The day before Thanksgiving I spent on the water with the president of Rapala and their marketing wiz Jack.  To catch a muskie is one thing, to catch it on a Rapala lure with the president of such company - incredible.  That was only the beginning.  Shortly after that fish swam away I became an uncle.  While the fish is a great memory, it has nothing on Kingston James Petersen.  He's special in more ways than I know how to describe.  It's now my goal to make him the youngest man to catch a 50 inch muskie. 

I realize that I am a very blessed man.  I've known this for quite some time.  The best part is that now I can share it with another.  Yep, that's right, I found a girl.  And, I'll be man enough to admit that she holds a very large spot in my heart.  Truth be told, I don't want it any other way.  I'm excited for the future and all that it holds.  But for now, I can't wait to see what bites under the ice in the morning.  Until next time, keep on livin' your dream!

Here Ya Go, Dad!

Last night my dad reminded me about my lack of recent updates.  He asked if I quit fishing and said that some of his friends were also wondering if I quit fishing.  I chuckled and apologized for the story void.  Funny thing is, about 20 minutes later he complained when I wanted to take his picture.  I said, "Dad, how the heck do you expect me to tell a story about you if you won't let me take your picture?  You do realize that nobody believes fish tales unless there is a picture attached to prove it, don't you?"  A few minutes later and a few more words of encouragement, and he finally held his dinner for a quick photo.  Sheesh, it was like I asked him for his retirement savings or something.

We spent the evening together sharing one of my favorite father son moments - we went walleye fishing.  My dad and I don't fish together as much as we'd like, but when we do, it usually revolves around something he can eat.  Truthfully, I think he likes eating them more than he does catching them.  He won't admit this, but I believe it to be true.  Still, this works out well for me because I just like to catch fish (as if you couldn't tell). 

We grabbed a scoop of minnows and hit the blustery waters.  The nice thing about fishing on lake Minnetonka is that there is always a place to duck out of the wind.  Tonight, this wind break happened to create a current break and the walleyes were stacked on it.  In less than two hours, we managed to land more than a dozen walleyes and lose almost as many boatside.  I guess you could say the walleye chop made a difference.  My dad kept a few for dinner, and we tossed the rest back to grow for another day.  In the end he let me take his picture, and I came home with a story to tell.  The best part?  His friends will actually believe him.  Thanks for the great time on the water, dad.  I will never forget how many of them flopped off by the boat, and your horrible net job!  Until the next fish strikes, keep on livin' your dream!

Muskie Porn...

If you call yourself a muskie dude, then you're probably addicted to muskie porn like me.  In my opinion, it's almost as fun as catching the fish.  We don't keep the darn things, so we may as well take something from that fish to remember it forever.  We could steal a scale or a tooth, but that just isn't very logical, nor is it friendly.  Instead, we steal their pictures.  We post them on the internet and we email them to our friends.  With today's modern technology, most of my clients and friends even steal a picture with their phone and immediately text it to their buddies.  If a muskie has been caught, odds are that 10 of your closest friends know about the fish before you even get off the lake.  However you dice it up, it's our version of porn and it's one of the reasons we spend hours busting our butts over a fish. 

I could stare at muskie porn all day.  I'm not proud of it, but its the truth.  In an effort to increase my viewing pleasure, I've been working on my photo quality and capturing the essence of the moment.  I've only begun to dabble with photography, and a few of my friends have done the same.  Last week my best muskie buddy, Mike Ernst, returned home from Nashville.  He brought his camera and we went on the muskie quest.  It didn't take long and we captured a few images for his lens.  Instead of snapping the photo's, I was lucky enough to be in them.  I believe muskie fishing is an emotional sport, and I think Mike nailed the action with his pics.  High quality porn if you will. 

To capture a good muskie shot is usually quite difficult.  It requires the right fish, the right holder and the right lighting.  Not to mention that 98% of my effort goes into making sure the muskie is handled correctly and released healthy.  I suspect that I usually take about 10 to 15 seconds to get the shot, then the fish returns to the water.  It's not easy, but I find it quite enjoyable when the quality turns out.  The right hold and the right angle of the fish can make or break the picture.  The fun part about being a guide is that I get to experience this chaotic moment with new people all of the time.  I bark orders and they look at me funny.  In in the end we laugh at the pics and share them with everyone we know.  Just another reason why I love my job.  Until the next muskie strikes, keep on livin' the dream!

Fall is in the Air!

Many consider Labor Day as the start of the fall season.  In my world, this means we are a few days closer to my favorite time on the water.  Giant fall muskies will soon be on the menu.  Monday morning, was a good example to the madness forthcoming.

Meeting at the ramp in the morning darkness, I told my clients, Adam and Jesse, that I didn't like our weather conditions.  The cold front had moved through, the wind laid down to zero and the temps were stuck at 45 degrees.  Did I mention there wasn't a cloud in the sky?  Not exactly ideal.  Still, the boys were eager and we hit the water hoping for the best.  This turned out to be a good move.  Less than an hour into our trip, Jesse hooked his first top water muskie ever.  This also happened to be his first over 50.  At 51 inches, the muskie slurped his bait like a bluegill eating a bug on the surface.  At first glance, we both said "bass."  As the fish cruised lazily left to right, I ran to the back of the boat for a better look, and was pleasantly surprised by the outcome.  That was about the same time the fish went wild.  Moments later we were hooting, howling and pumping fists.

Jesse's muskie marked the end to an 0 for 14 streak.  During the previous 4 trips, my clients had generated 14 strikes.  The conditions were prime and the muskies were chomping.  Sadly, they all managed to get off in one way or another.  I know that is why we fish them, but it was seriously getting out of hand.  Big fish, little fish and everything in between.  I watched them shake off boat side, fly across the surface like tarpon, and make good hook sets look poor.  I watched a high 40's eat a fly, only to break the line before the net.  I watched a young 12 year old battle her first muskie, only to break her heart.  One miss after another and another.  While the action was good, I was beginning to wonder when our luck would change.  Thanks to Jesse, I didn't have to wonder for very long.  Thankfully, he provided another spark and Labor day holiday to remember!  Here's to you and a great start to the fall muskie season.  I wish you all the best!  Until the next muskie strikes, keep on living the dream!

I'd Rather Be Lucky...

Make a long cast, grip the rod tight and work the bait erratic with an increase and decrease in speeds along the retrieve.  Once boat side, lower your rod tip into the water and power into the first turn in a downward motion followed by a rising motion coming out of that turn. Sound familiar?  Make another wide turn and bring the bait near the surface, then back down.  Repeat over and over then cast over and do it all again.  Don't stop this process for even a second or you won't catch anything today. 

Ah yes, this is muskie fishing.  A sport with so many rules that it seems painful to do.  After nearly 4 hours of perfect form, flawless figure 8's and precise boat control on prime structure, I was about to give in to the muskie God's.  I cranked the trolling motor on high and told the boys, "hang on, I am going to move us one last time for one more cast." Eric left his line hang out the back and I motored us across the area we just completed a solid 20 casts on.  With my headlamp shining on Eric, I watched his rod bend over.  "I think I have a fish," he said quietly.  "No, it's just weeds, never mind...wait, yes, yes it is a fish." I started laughing and expected to see a bass or a clump of milfoil.  To my surprise, the biggest muskie of Eric's life swam peacefully around the boat holding a bucktail in it's mouth.  That was the moment chaos broke loose.  But, it was already too late for that muskie.  This scenario proves that I would much rather be lucky than good.

The following morning I meet a couple muskie junkies at the boat landing.  The sun was still sleeping when I gave my usual muskie tutorial.  With proper casting form completed we moved on to the hook set and battle scenario's.  All things necessary to properly get started in muskie fishing.  It was during this time that a muskie grabbed my clients bait and took him for a ride.  If it wasn't the 6th cast of the day, it was his 7th.  That was a good start and the first muskie of Mark's life.  I can only chalk it up to luck!

That night I hooked up the boat and decided to fish the late shift.  My "lucky charm," Matt Hennen was eager and the conditions looked prime.  An hour into the wild goose chase, he hooked up on the figure 8.  I quickly reeled up my line and grabbed the net.  With pictures logged on my camera's SD card, we released the fish and head back for more.  But, there's a problem.  In a hurry, I failed to reel my bait completely into the boat.  Hanging over the side, the hook grabbed a weed during the drift and pulled the entire rig overboard.  Uh oh!  Upset at myself for the stupid move, I started adding up the dollars.  The Calcutta was only 5 days old, and counting up the rest of the rig just made me want to vomit. 

I shined my headlamp into the wind driven waves in hopes of finding the needle in the endless hay stack.  For 20 minutes we drug baits across the bottom hoping to snag something at all.  I zoomed tight on my GPS trail and followed as close as possible.  Then, out of nowhere I spotted it.  The bait held tight to the milfoil, but the cork end floated upward giving a sparkle when my light flashed across the Calcutta gold.  I almost wet my shorts with excitement.  Still laughing about it all, Matt re-hooked his favorite lure and tossed it back out.  In 5 short turns of the handle, he was hooked up again.  If I wasn't there, I probably wouldn't have believed it.  This proves again, that I'd rather be lucky than good.  In the muskie fishing world, I'll take what I can get.  This point marked the 7th consecutive trip with a fish in the boat and the first double.  Maintaining a streak is something I am always proud of.  Will it continue?  Until the next muskie strikes keep on living your dream!