A Month(!) on the Lake

I spent the four weeks from August 9th to September 5th on Eagle Lake this year, fishing most days from dawn until dark. It was a tremendous privilege to be out there all that time and I experienced levels of peace and concentration that are all too rare in our anthill lives these days. The staff at Andy Myers Lodge took wonderful care of me, as always, while I was there. Julian set up the trip exactly according to my wishes, with me preparing my breakfast and lunch so I could go out as early as I wanted, and a fine dinner waiting for me in the kitchen when I came in at night. Everybody is enthusiastic and does everything they can to make the trip work out as hoped. The fishing was musky fishing, leaving us wondering some days if muskies had been canceled and nobody bothered to tell us. Then a bolt of lightning would happen and a big girl would eat the bait out or come to the boat ready to eat. When one member of the Wilderness group got a 55 incher in Danny's boat, all the guides and experienced anglers were in agreement that she must have eaten out and we were shocked to learn that she came up under the bucktail and inhaled it to the blades on the second turn at boatside. As Scott Munford said, "Somebody has to get lucky sometime." Other moments, the lake would turn on and there were fish everywhere for a brief period when the window was open. More on that later.

Maybe it is just because I was out there alone so long, or I am learning to read more into the behavior of these great fish, but I saw things this time that I had not perceived before. I found several spots that had wolf-packs of muskies on them. One small bar had eight fish that chased the bait, and when I went back with a topwater they all chased again. These follows had a different body language from normal follows, though. The fish were clearly chasing the bait away in a territorial fashion that seemed to be saying, "we are having a private meeting here, so get away." There was no sense at all that they would eat the bait...they were running it off. I did go back at last light twice and caught fish both times, but their behavior was totally different on those occasions. The second time I hooked the fish at boatside and it ran out and jumped completely out of the water just as an approaching storm flashed lightning behind. That is an image I will not soon forget, stored away with the flock of mergansers all standing up on the rocks with their red feet while the water over the weedbed in front of them was covered in floating feathers of a companion who got eaten by a big fish. I'll also remember the huge fish that chased and nipped my bait while I was out with Brad Jaeger. I told him I had a follow coming and he looked out at my bait forty feet away and simply saw the water glowing behind the lure. The monster grabbed the back hook and got stuck for just a second or two, enough time to rise up and shake her head with a giant bucket mouth wide open. The lure flew out and I burned it through the water while she chased it to the boat but refused to go into the turn. Brad, who grew up on the lake, called it the second largest fish he has ever seen hooked. I have to tell another Brad story: I caught a modest sized musky out of a weedbed and the scared fish defecated all over in the boat and in the net. Brad got a big wad of it on his hand unhooking the fish and then, unthinking, put his finger and a lot of white goo in his mouth. He was nearly retching in the boat when he suddenly brightened and said, "They have been eating whitefish." That's a musky angler for you.

It is probably going to be over very soon, but there was a good weed bite going on. They would come out of the juicy deep cabbage in 14 feet of water, like the one I got when I tossed out a Depth Raider on Johnson's point just to make sure I was still on the weedline. When I felt the expected tug I was sure it was the weeds until the thing tore off and I got a good fish. Those things are deadly if you can get them through the weeds. Many of the fish, though, were in the thickest slop, especially on hot, still days. That is intense fishing. Throw the bait beyond the weeds or into the biggest clear spot you can find, raise your rod tip and burn it over the tops, steering through the gaps. If you get snagged, keep reeling and snap the thing like a maniac to try to clear the weeds. These casts are the ones that trigger fish because you have ripped out a chunk of their habitat, so make the most of what you have done and clear the bait. It can easily be the difference between a big fish in the net and another of those stupid stories about a fish that followed and did not eat a bait fouled with four feet of weeds.

On the rocks, blades were working when the fish were moving and they were a great exercise in washing baits when they were not. Grandmas were good in the hands of experts who love them and customize them and impart more than just monotonous ripping to them. Dave Koshall and Danny caught seven one day, all on Dave's customized Grandma's, I believe. Danny had a thing going with Triple Ds, where he was getting hit often, but not staying stuck. Finally, he got one hooked and it ripped off drag, making us think he had a beast on the line. It was a 42 hooked in the side. When the next one he hooked seemed to be spiraling before it came off, we deduced that the fish were slapping at the bait and getting snagged, not really eating it. Another territorial thing. People were throwing Dogs occasionally and raising fish, but not catching many this early in the season. That time is coming.

Overall, I caught 38 muskies, including a few really big ones and a gorgeous 46" tiger. They came in bunches as you would expect. One day it poured rain in Vermilion Bay and I got hooks in five fish during the hour and thirty minutes of rain, landing three of them. On another stormy day I got four in the boat with Brad and went out alone in the evening and got another. And, on the last morning Eagle Lake gave me a marvelous gift. I awoke facing a 1,650 mile drive home, planning to just get up and say goodbye and leave, but I wanted to fish a spot or two and have a last moment alone on the lake, so I just threw on my fishing clothes and headed out at dawn. When I got on the lake I realized it wasn't going to be a mellow farewell. It was stormy, with a big west wind and rollers coming in. In the dim light the water was green and opaque. I decided to go for it and fish the windy side of Strawberry and as soon as I got set up a fish surprised me on the second cast. In the big rollers and poor visibility I missed her as she tried to eat on the first turn, so I kept the bait going and a bigger fish darted in and ate on the second turn. When I released her I set up again and got another on the third cast, both at the northwest end of the bar. Working my way along, I got another high forties fish off the rock between the jug and the visible reef and a fourth from the boulders at the end of the spot. Completely thrilled, I decided to go to the windy near side of Colonel's and give it a try and was rewarded with a big, golden fish off the corner of the island. Fishing down the south side, I was surprised not to see one off the rock with the jug, and even more surprised not to see one on the unmarked rock out from the shore there, but I rounded that part of the reef and headed out toward the rebar on the reef out in the center of the bay. At the western edge of that reef a big girl ate the bait out, giving me a wonderful show before coming to the net. I was well past time to be on the road and decided to call it there, with six fish in the net before the guests at the lodge had even come down to the dock yet. As I came in, I told the guides to get their guys and go, and while I was settling my bill with Julian, Brad texted from the lake that on his first spot he had a fifty coming to the boat when a 44 cut it off and ate. That is the kind of thing that we all dream of and it made my long drive home a lot more bearable to have ended on a grace note from the lake.
Bill Hedden

I have just returned from my 2015 month-long trip to Eagle Lake. Each year, the experience gets deeper and better for me. Frankly, the musky fishing was generally tough from mid-August to mid-September, with huge fronts that dropped water temps dramatically followed by rapid warming and then more fronts. The fish mostly seemed to go down to depths where things were more stable. On some days, about the only fish we saw were on the locator coming up off the bottom, following the boat briefly, and then sinking down again. We jigged these fish and some had success, though I didn't catch any that way. But over all, I find as I spend more time chasing these marvelous, quirky beasts, that whether I have a grand time or not depends less and less on catching fish and more on my approach to the entire experience. At one point in my obsessive 6 AM to 9 PM fishing somebody asked for my email address so they could send me something and I had to pause for some time to recall what it was. For a person whose work entails hundreds of emails each day, that was quite a blessing. One night I was far out in the Western Arm completely unaware that a serious storm was coming in. It had clobbered Kenora with 60 mph wind, golf-ball-sized hail and prodigious lightning. The forecasters were warning people in Vermilion Bay to go indoors and stay away from their windows. I fished as the dark deepened and the sky started to take on an ominous look with distant flashes of lightning, but it wasn't until the wolves began to howl back in the forest that I decided that maybe the time had come to head for the dock. I got back at full dark with the wind rising and people sitting out on their decks at the lodge watching the lightning show. The wolf chorus seemed to me like a very good way to get my weather news. I talk to loons and eagles and turtles and have a silent, physically demanding meditation all day every day. There is nothing else I have discovered like it. The people at Andy Myers Lodge make it possible for me to experience all this, providing great service at the dock, caring for my little cabin, doing my laundry, and leaving a dinner waiting for me in the kitchen. They are friends and as close as family and it is a blessing to know them. When I have guide days I get to spend time with incredible fishermen who love the whole thing as much as I do. And there were fish involved despite the tough fishing. I caught a couple of 51s and a whole bevy of 48-49 fish. The average size seemed bigger than in other years and really big fish seemed to show up as often as 40 inchers. On the one day during my stay when the fishing was hot people in camp boated 6 fish over 50 inches. I met Mikey and his crew in Temple Bay that day and they had gotten a 53 and several other big fish and missed many more. I had seen one fish to that point in the day and was beginning to wonder if I still knew how to musky fish, but the wind rose and I went to the west tip of West Long Island and hooked the fish of my dreams. The truly big ones always eat out away from the boat and this one was coming diagonally toward me at high speed when she ate the bait. She kept coming that way shaking her huge head, white gills flared and mouth open as I reeled frantically to keep up with her. Then she jumped completely clear of the water, still coming at me, and managed to throw the hooks. The most beautiful and awful thing I've ever seen musky fishing. There was also a 56 inch class beast that I raised five days in a row in a very small area. The night of the monster off West Long I had the clearest feeling that I was going to catch this lesser, but still enormous fish, so I went to her spot at last light and raised her exactly where she should have been. She came in energetically and went into the turn and caught the bait at the outside of the turn and then turned away within one inch of eating. So much for my intuitions. That's what keeps us coming back. My last evening Herbie asked me to go out with him and several friends from Wisconsin. I got a last benediction from the lake when two fish ate at the boat, letting me finish with a 45 and then a 48 on my last cast of the trip. I couldn't be more grateful.
Bill Hedden

Bill it was a pleasure to see you at camp again. I enjoyed getting to know you a little better this year. Your post really says it all about Muskie fishing and Andy Myers. I hope to see you again next year my friend.

Shawn Morse