Posts: 2024
| I've been at it with this craziness 3 years, about 2-3 weeks a year. I grew up in Virginia, MN and only fish Vermilion, unless it's with guides down south. First year I go out blind, fishing 4 days with no experience and without a depth finder/gps. See a nice one follow and I am hooked. I get to fish with a buddy after that, who guides and know Vermilion like the back of his hand. We get into some fish, but none will bite. Nothing like a hot follow that only needs to open it's mouth to swallow the bait. I go home and he hooks into several fish 3 nights later. So, I head back up to MN over my daughter's fall break. This time I have gps/depthfinder to help see where I'm at. 2nd spot I fish, nothing, so I throw on the same bulldawg that got a follow the last time I fished the spot. 3rd cast, yes I remember specifics, I feel a tick, think it's a weed, then realize it's a bite, and set the hook, but it's too late... Fast forward to the next summer. I'm heading up for a 2 week trip. 1st week was with my guide buddy trolling and we were going to fish 3 nights. He calls the night before and tells me his client cancelled and we can go out the next night, so 4 nights now. I go say Hi to mom, who luckily understands, and go fishing instead of staying with her. Nailed a 54 as my first fish that first night. Right at moonrise, with a front moving in, and after a distant lightning strike. I proceed to get a 42 then a 52 those 4 nights and he gets 3 as well, all trolling. What haunts me most is the last night of fishing with him we hear the reel scream on the last run. I grab the rod, since we were alternating who gets what fish, and the fish is going nuts. The head shakes were tremendous, ripping drag and jerking the rod around, and it was running toward the other line and my buddy wasn't ready with the net. I was playing the fish, waiting for him to get the net and was pumping the rod, which was not how I had played it before. I felt slack line and reeled as fast as could, to nothing. It was off... I had to leave a week early, due to a family emergency, but went up to the summer outing at Spring Bay to make up for the missed week. I fished with some great people and the 2nd night was with Jerome, TopH20 on here. Well, we troll out of a spot with a topwater on and then run to the next spot. Yep, you got it, I had loosened my drag a bit and started casting the next spot without tightening all the way back down when the water explodes. I set the hook, feel the drag slip, and try reeling in as fast as I can, but it throws the lure. Jerome, in his infinite wisdom and kindness, tells me it was a good one too. I'm claiming it was mid 30s... Then a nipper on the second to last day of the outing bites short on the spinnerbait I had on and tears off my trailer. Last day of the outing, a different buddy that doesn't fish much comes up to go out with me. I put him on a Topraider, he nails a 42 within an hour. Last spot for this summer trip, my favorite spot, where I had moved 3 fish the day before and where he had caught his. 2nd time though we hit the slop, feel a hit on my cowgirl, set the hook, and get my biggest smallmouth, from 4 feet of water, at least 22 inches. While reeling it in I was begging, "Please be a musky!", since I hadn't caught one casting, to his amusement. We go through the slop and then head back and I switch to my favorite topwater, the one I missed the one earlier in the week on. No more than 20 yards from where my buddy got his, the water explodes, I feel the pressure, set the hook, the rod snaps... I did manage to land my first casting musky, a nice 44, beating the rookie friend, but didn't fet to feel the fight. So, I feel redeemed a bit. Fast forward to fall break again. Me and my daughter head up to visit grandma and stay on Vermilion. The first day was too windy to run far, but I did catch a nice pike during the day. At sunset it;s still windy, so I fished a weedline close to Spring Bay. Again, the water explodes, right where I expect the hit to come from. I set the hook, and the rod stays in the same position, but my reeling hand comes away with a broken handle... I tried grabbing the line to hand-land it, but had to watch a very nice one surface and throw it back to me. So, I figure I may be cursed. Last summer I head up, land one the first night, no equipment failures and get another as well. I'll never forget the lost ones, especially the big head shaker, nor the image of the broken handle. But I will keep at it, because the hunt is just as good as catching one. |
