Copyright Bangor Daily News
As a kid, I used to watch my dad head out on annual fishing trips for trout and salmon with his buddies. I counted the days until I was old enough to join them. When I finally did, those trips became some of my best memories. But as time went on, work, relationships and the responsibilities of growing up pulled me away from that tradition. Eventually, when life settled down, I started the tradition again with my dad, his brother, cousins and friends. Then, as it always does, life changed again. Kids came along, and I began taking fishing trips with them. But as my guiding schedule got busier, even those annual family trips began to fade away. This past October, I decided to bring it back with a twist. I wanted to start a new tradition: an annual musky trip. This year, my oldest son Tait, and friends Zach Peirce and Matt Hornberger joined me. We planned for two days on the water. Zach fished with me the first day while Matt went solo. Tait was set to meet us Saturday night and fish Sunday. If you don’t know much about muskies, they are among the hardest fish to catch, and we were targeting them with fly rods. Maine isn’t known for musky fishing, but it is growing in popularity. Fort Kent even hosts a musky tournament that gives away thousands in prizes. Many guides and local business owners believe it should become a catch-and-release event to help build a trophy fishery. The muskies are here to stay. It is time to manage them wisely. We arrived at the water around 10 a.m. Zach and Matt had never landed a musky before, so excitement was high. I gave Matt a walkie-talkie since cell service was poor. Within ten minutes he radioed, “I got one.” It wasn’t huge, maybe 25 inches, but it was his first musky, and that is always a big deal. Two casts later, I hooked up but lost mine. Two hookups in the first 30 minutes is not bad for a species known as the fish of 10,000 casts. By the end of the day, Zach and I had around 20 follows. I landed two small muskies. Zach lost two, and Matt never saw another. A friend later told me, “That’s an epic day. Those are season-long numbers, not one-day numbers.” The next morning Tait joined me and Zach fished with Matt. With low water levels across the region, we decided to explore new spots. Not long in, Zach had a follow and even brought one to the net before losing it. Tait didn’t see a fish, and I had two follows but no hookups. After that tough day, I could see the disappointment. Zach still hadn’t landed his first musky, and Tait had driven four hours without even a follow. So I came up with a plan. “Let’s leave my house at 4 a.m. next Saturday,” I said. “Drive north, fish for musky until 3 and be home by 8 p.m.” By midweek, both were in. At 4:02 a.m., we hit the road. I’ve always loved the conversations that happen on those early drives: stories about scary roads, past trips and what’s ahead in life. Four hours passed quickly. Once on the water, we decided to take turns. Whoever landed a fish would switch with the next angler. Zach made just two casts before hooking up and lost it. That made four lost fish for him now. Moments later, Tait made three casts and had three separate follows. The fish were clearly active. Then it happened. Tait landed his first musky, about 26 inches long. On a fly rod, every musky is earned. These aren’t easy fish. Ten- to twelve-weight rods, big flies, heavy lines — musky fishing is physically demanding. But that day, effort was paying off. Later, I had one follow my fly right to the boat. I told Zach to cast in front of me with a different color fly. The fish darted toward his but didn’t commit. Back at one of our productive spots from the week before, Zach hooked up again and lost it again. Shortly after, we both hooked fish at the same time and both came unbuttoned. Around 1 p.m., I told Zach, “You’ve got two hours left to get your fish.” Seconds later he yelled, “I’ve got one.” He strip set hard and slid his first musky into the net. We yelled, high-fived and laughed. It felt like a team win. Earlier that day, I had seen a big fish roll near my fly, so I went back to that area. “Are you ready, Zach?” I said. “I’m about to catch a 30-incher.” I stripped the fly back toward the boat, and just twenty feet out, a musky appeared and inhaled it. Pure chaos. Moments later the fish was in the net. We celebrated like kids. We recorded a podcast throughout the day. As we were talking about my fish, Tait suddenly said, “There’s one following.” I spooked it mid-recording, so I shut the mic off at 1:36. On the very next cast, at 1:38, a musky ate right beside the boat. We scooped it into the net and turned the podcast back on, laughing in disbelief. In five and a half hours, we had 25 follows and landed four muskies, an incredible day in the musky world. If you don’t go, you’ll never know. Fly anglers looking to improve should fish everything, and maybe give the brook trout a break.
