An early September full moon, the calendar had been marked up with ink months in advance to signal the arriving muskie season. After a summer whirlwind of fishing and work gone by, there was hope enough fuel would remain for what is always the toughest physical and mental slogging fishing has to offer, that muskie grind! Two twelve day tours to Nipigon, a month of work and play in Nunavut and an Arctic Circle Lodge trip up on Great Bear Lake, there could be no complaining that 2025 was not full of amazing experiences which had included hundreds of hard fighting and enormous lake trout, beautiful arctic char, colorful brook trout, pike and even some walleye. Camping under the stars, ATV’ing across the tundra, boating the big blue zones and keeping in the company of family and friends, it was like I’d received an entire year worth of fishing before autumn muskie hunts would even begin.

Day one set the tone with a nice fuzzy rainbow and beautiful big blue water for them bigger ships. And then, within just a few short hours, hows about a broken rod and rod holder for one quick nut punch back to reality! Just a few hundred extra bucks to remind me this ain’t panfishing in Lollipop Land anymore, dem muskies are gonna hurt, wuss!
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Tail between the legs I left early that first day. Bad shit comes in threes and I hadn’t even yet noticed the eyelet ring came out off a trolling rod too. What is it with St.Croix and their eyelet rings?

Next day was mostly spent in a hammock under the tree until heading out at 4pm to get off the water by 730pm. Short and sweet and got’er done catching three skis, 47.5, 46.5 and a 45. Now that’s a better start! The 46.5″ was wild too because it was a fish that followed to boat side and stayed eyes glued to the lure on the figure eight. And I figure eighted, and eighted… and eighted… and… Did so many eights the back got sore all hunched over and so dropped down to one knee at the gunnel and kept eightin’er, and eighting some more. I figured eighted I figure about forty times and that muskie kept turning on that lure until finally I got fed up and just tripled the speed of the rod tip. SMASH!!! Fish On!

Now, full disclaimer… you’ll see the 47.5 incher in the first pic below, and I took photos of the other two as well but then after doing so decided no, I ain’t doing that to the muskies this season, and no more! Not photographing fish for myself under 50-inches. People have seen skis before, if you haven’t you’ll see only the biggest and best of mine here. Otherwise, family and friends who come aboard to catch muskies, well of course they get their souvenir pics with fish of any size catch they like. Considerably lucky to be able to even take that route on the big Larry and feel confident enough I’ll still have some pics to show.

After the first day headache and second day cure, I’d chip away alone and also with my friend Dan at some more skis throughout a week. Dan was bitten by the muskie bug a few years back and is doing alright for himself tuning into ‘em on mainly smaller waters around the valley.

During our time we got a couple, it was a 47 being the biggest. Then, Bren would arrive home from work up north come mid September. Enjoying a family weekend at the cottage, finally it’d come her turn to reel some in. With a banana in the boat or not, Bren generally brings us good luck. She’s patient, super helpful, a competent angler herself who’s always content to fish regardless of the catch. She’s the calm to any storm. And so the summer heat still strong we’d head out for short runs in the evenings only, usually launching around 4:00pm and getting off with the sunset. The first three outings we happily managed two a day for six muskies.
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We mixed it up both trolling and casting but it was actually an all troll bite! Found a one-two punch that worked, muskies falling for one lure or the other. Some good fishing for a first quarter moon that forecasted no spectacular odds.

When trolling I’ll most often offer Bren any and all rods that might fire. Her time is limited and it is important she enjoys herself; that satisfies me too. And I offered again this day, but as she often will she refuses to take my turn. I wish she hadn’t done that just this one time..!

When a Tekota screamed next the reel kept peeling. I slowed the boat to only idle-forward for some helpful pull-pressure head control while Bren cleared the second line. This fish kept going though, taking more off the counter along with a couple big hammer headshakes, it became obvious this one was a giant putting too much distance between us. That constant hard pressure is a must, trust your drag is right and as my buddy Chrish will say, “reel through the butter” and get it to the net quick as ya can! I don’t usually go that route myself and although I tried to on this fish a minute, it wasn’t having it. So, threw the tiller into reverse twice to pick up some line quick which is always a little risky should that ski turn and run towards ya. After gaining there was still fight in this one while it pulled, shook and circled below the boat. At one point it jumped too, smacking its head and leaving a small scar on the cowling of my Yamaha. Thought for sure then I was going to lose it. But, it swung around again port side and when finally there was enough control, when rod tip sweeping from stern towards bow, Bren managed the head and more than half the body into the Beckman before falling backwards nearly onto her ass while levering the handle on the gunnel to scoop the muskie inside. The flash net job was poetry in motion, I swear! The fish had one hook on the back treble remaing in some thickest jaw meat but FFS how it didn’t come off on that jump I just dunno? And had it not been chased after in reverse to gain line and time… well I dunno x2? The big girl was real close to a loss but she wasn’t! Well over a “legal” size I wondered then if I may just spend the rest of the fall settling for smaller ones but my God, this one truly gave me one of the best big muskie fights I’ve ever had. Absolute stunner pattern, long, good for summer girth and really, just a grand specimen!”
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After that true mega I hit a big time slump fishing 34 hours with only one measly 45-incher to show for it. A shitty new moon that totally darkened expectations!.. But, my daughter Leah had her birthday weekend with us and my mother’s 75th birthday party was held in Ottawa too. The weather did challenge a little as it was often too nice to actually get out of the hammock some days and put in more of the required effort on the water. Can’t say I was overly happy about the lousy bite but kept hope that the immensely hot and late summer weather would soon change and with it, thems damns muskies moods too.

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Last two days of September I was on the water when the phone dinged! My buddy Keith was texting to ask about the bite…
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Loaded up on a subtle bump to suddenly feel some heavy thumps from this plump chump! A clean fish that probably just recently rose up from the summer depths to begin probing the cooling autumn shallows. On a major, she was a sundown glistener!
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Shit photo though, fish angle makes it look shorter than it is. Wishing I’d squared up straight on this one because it was actually bigger than it looks here. Serious! Maybe instead of the Sony I should go back to phone pics on the 0.5 wide-angle so everything just looks massive..? Yeah sure whatever! Another ski well over 50!

Next day popped another good one on the major again but it was sadly two inches shy of photo worthy and my morals.

Well, call it laziness and maybe I’ll just smack ya! Age is becoming more of a factor and besides, holy shit didn’t I already tells yas about how much fishing and traveling I’d been doing for months up to this point!? To top it all off I’d had a wee health scare back in May and the Heart Institute told me to take it easy (which I did not) and put me on some meds that have fucked up me guts. Those meds require more meds that fuck up absorbing some nutrients, and losing out jsut makes me more tired and sore which sometimes leads to some more meds that fuck up my guts some more… and so on… and so on… and more meds! Add a little booze, gluten and sugars and I become a recipe for go-fuck-myself. The reality of it is I can’t wait to get back to work up north where I can work billions of hours a week, exercise regularly, eat right again, get off all the drugs and garbage convenience foods and actually get some rest from fishing! For the time being the actual muskie outings were short bursts of usually 3 to 4 hours, but I was in it for the long haul and those hours would bump up with friends coming in and the hot afternoons cooling down.

My daughter Summer stayed with Bren and I for nearly a week at the cottage. While here we played a lot of Catan when she wasn’t sleeping, and she did come out for a fish with her old man one afternoon. Packed along with her was a doozie of a sinus cold and cough which she kindly passed on to me… and then Keith arrived end of that week!

A lot more Catan in the evenings along with the drinks and late dinners, Keith, Bren and I kept almost as busy off the water as we did on. While here for his six days we managed to average a muskie a day but sorely struggled some on size. The day after the full moon by my calculation was predicted the best in the phase, and sure enough Keith that morning popped a nice one which bumped out over 50 inches but, a 1/4 inch shy of tying his personal best catch. Some happiness! Until a good fish is in the boat for anyone visiting, it’s often like this heavy, draining weight is on the shoulders. There’s constant wonder if with, what, how, when, where and all that is done is the right choice? They are the fish of 10,000 casts they say and often you’re left guessing until your number is called. But, I want to do and be better than that, every time! Because it can be done. Because there is more to this I have yet to learn. To be ever so mindful of muskies.

Anyways that’s kinda psychopathic muskie fever induced insanity talk right there but Keith is a total brain at fishing too. In fact, he’s one of the most rock solid, talented and seasoned minds for walleye fishing especially, but also many other fish as well. While visiting it was easy to tell he wanted it, wanted them muskies and was developing the same full moon lunacy that week which some of us others just repeat 24/7 right thru every full 28 day cycle. A beauty fish bud, well done! The gin was delicious and know this, you were the 2nd best Catan player that week but totally ruled by my #9’s.
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Keith would fly out the Friday before Thanksgiving while Bren and I would head home to feast with the family and take to some fall chores. Off the water awhile it was a pleasure to return with friend and Great Bear Lake legend, Harold Ball. If ever interested in learning more about Canada’s largest freshwater lake home to the world record lake trout, arctic char and arctic grayling, visit Harold’s website. Search – Great Bear Lake Outdoors.
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We were overdue Harold and I to do something like this. How we actually came to know one another neither of us can seemingly recall, but we just got to be buds! And this past summer I was fortunate enough to join his group with Plummer Lodges for the first time up on Great Bear. For Harold, it was his fortieth something annual trip. Other than owner Chummy Plummer himself, no one else comes close. Imagine that… imagine being present to forty plus years of Great Bear’s fishing legacy. That is a great angler life lived!

FISHING INTO GREAT GREYS AT PLUMMER’S ARCTIC CIRCLE LODGE
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There was not a minute pass that Harold and I weren’t sharing one story or another. Whether fishing, dining, driving or enjoying a scotch or three, it would seem like we were two old friends who’d lived a similar outdoors lifetime. Difference being, he was never nuts enough to sleep nights at any launches or road stops under the tonneau cover of a truck in October just to chase stupid muskies. Although, I do know some of the stops along Bear where he has camped and the huge, scary waters that lake can whip up, he’s got some nuts aplenty too! This trip he preferred better.
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Conditions were tougher and we narrowly missed a couple of lunar phases which might have bettered our chances but hey, we did it our way and enjoyed the time nonetheless.
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Harold left for home and poof, for the first time in weeks the cottage was empty. No Bren, no girls, no friends coming and going, and so I just slept round the clock. A next day fully energized I put in a totally rando Rambo ten hours fishing and didn’t catch a fawkin’ thing. That kinda got me bummed, being two skunks with Harold and now one alone too. But no need to fret, Capn’ Chrish was coming in for the weekend and together over two days something good was bound to happen..?

“The Warrior” arrived looking slim and trim, vital and vigorous. Happy to see the guy it’d been since spring we last fished together and that ended up with me in an ambulance. He has that effect on people who fish with him, he doesn’t seem to tire so you’ll be forced to die instead. Haha! Anyways, day one was a late start and late finish while the winds were good. We pushed towards a midnight major but didn’t quite make it, 10:00pm and called it a night. Next morning, got up earlier for a decent forecast, went fishing quick in the event we’d maybe need to skiddadle come an early afternoon blow.

Shit all! Moved several fish and I sharted a good boat side chance to eight one. Casting and trolling throughout, nothing much swimming had the giver and guts and for 16 hours we crop dusted poor Bambalam. Skunks! Ahhh ewwwwww!!! It happens.

Thankfully there was a big rain and heavy winds the day after Chrish left because that way I could sleep all day again and recover. Actually, did much of that but also cooked up some char and scallops for the neighbors while they offered delicious beef, greens, sausages, wine and later some excellent scotch. Got spoiled I did! And that evening I watched a ball game, the whole thing! Hadn’t done that since the Jays won the World Series back in 93 I think it was? Maybe 92? Anyhow, some Springer Dinger saved the day, advancing them to the finals. It was a great game.

Been searching through various podcasts and old notes for things looking for clues to help. Ugly Pike’s guest Danny Columby has some insightful stuff to say, John Anderson and elsewhere Laz too. Old online pal Pete Maina and I had a brief message sesh on IG that bumped my motivation a little. All-in-all I suppose a muskie nut has to often remind himself that not only do the fish change season-to-season with angling and environmental factors but, so to do the water systems. Weeds, levels, temperatures, winds, forage, all that and more! Remembered back to this one summer when over seven morning outings friends, family and I boated 250 lake trout in the span of little over a week. Quick morn trips of 4 to 5 hours tops, and it was just a constant slay! The next summer, same time, place and same conditions and I was lucky to catch three. Seasons change and so to does the fishing, but always do fish have to eat and there in the lies the challenge when the going gets tough. This year some big highs hit but the lows just dragged on.

Day of the new moon I made sure to be on the water for the morning major. Launching I watched as a legend went whizzing by in his big boat with guests. Loose ideas of a milk run to get started with, off I went too. The day was a mixed bag of winds, calm spots, sun and cloud. Trolled and cast over stuff I like but this year have had less overall confidence in. Eventually it happened while on a wig-wam-bam down in rubber land. All those hours of nothing but questions and this dwindling motivation to go on with it and then suddenly, BOOOM the payload! Here’s another five minutes of knee knocking, goose pimpling, gaspy, flushed-face-fishgasming happiness to make that past week of clinical depression seemingly worth while.
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Another tidal wave! Damn that one took a minute, and the high of it would push me off the shore and back onto the sea. Hey, “the earth is 80% water and I ain’t nobody’s floaty! I’m doing meeeee.” It’s just the way of them tides, ya gotta keep surfing.

And so I’m gliding over this one waypoint which almost to the day a year ago off the same spot I plucked this tank…

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And that’s when I hear the slightest little zip on the reel and nothing. Out of the chair, moving to the holder, zip-zip again and so I grab the rod.

Little zip zips it doesn’t feel like much and it’s reeling in easy until nearly under the boat and that’s when this thing starts folding my bamboo chute to the root. Nuthin’ but the heaviness of the earth now pulls from beneath and I can’t budge it. I mean, I… can’t… fawkin’… budge it! It’s not peeling and it’s not coming up either, this big ski only holds ground below until suddenly one big hard thump and the lure is floating up alone. Ughhhhhhh… that slip backwards stung.

After a couple of short four hour day outings trolling with Bren and a day away visiting my kiddo I launched into a bigger east wind that was blowing up the river pretty good. Fella at the launch asked, “you’re going out in that? A few other boats came in saying it was pretty rough.” “Yeah,” I says! “Well, hold onto your hat then,” he answers.

Wasn’t casting fifteen minutes when I got a bump. Fanned the area with other lures a minute and couldn’t catch a commitment so left awhile and kept working onward only to return and get another bump off that exact fish waypoint. No hitter it was a big one though that followed after the second nip right to the boat. Showing itself it only winked on the way by my figure eights. Asshole!

An hour or so later, still in the minor I hooked up with a good one about 47-48 inches that came unstuck at boatside. FFS! Finished that spot and went to another and raised three more muskies on slow follows, none wanting to take a chance. Soooo, I switched to trolling! Figured the fish are on enough to move now they’d have no choice but to commit. And it wasn’t twenty minutes later the line took one helluva rip! Quick to get on it the fish was heavy at first before running at the boat and then loading up boatside. Right there about twenty feet out and off the port side a big ski is thrashing on the surface then settled straight a minute just circling out. A decent one I’d say low 50 easy but a bit skinnier. When trying to turn the head and pull it in closer it dove down and then suddenly there was my lure coming back again without a fish. Ugghhhhhh… borderline despair.

Drove back to the cottage with a funny grin though. Two lost, two missed hooksets and three more I couldn’t entice enough to bite. These days do happen, sometimes it can be a dozen or more missed opportunities. At least there was some action.

A following two outings Bren came along. The first was a beautiful day without as much as sniff, sad nothing bit for we covered both a major and minor. The second outing came days later and it was forecasted to be cold and blowy. Backing up the trailer to park I spotted a black cat cross my path in the rearview…… ohhhh FFS should I even continue on with the rest..?

It sucked out there! Couldn’t turn follows into strikes, couldn’t hook short nippers and by late day couldn’t troll without the odd wave spray over the bow either. I’d dropped Bren off on shore to escape the big winds a half hour before Hell arrived then realized as I was pounding back out there getting soaked that maybe I too should have called it quits. But nope! Another nearly four hours of no-catchy muskie abuse and then it was finally time to go. Another zero for seven.

If it wasn’t for bad luck there’d be none.

A final run I took off for big fish waters and met up with a muskie man himself, FishChrish! We had the coldest day of the year yet to wash our lures through but, were up for the visit and highly hopeful for a monster rip! Ten hours of chin-wagging, steak munchin’, bait switching, ball freezing good times we ended up with two giants being two incidental walleyes, and an agreement we’d give it all another try sometime down the road.
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Sitting here this morning typing this up, November 12th in a cool, dingy hotel room in Iqaluit. Back to work! Fishing fun is over for another season and it’s just the memories… I’d say these past five years after writing “100 Larry Days of Muskies” have been very good to me. A couple hundred more autumn days; Septembers and Octobers, just on muskies alone. Nearly four dozen over 50″ caught by myself or others aboard the Lund. Incredible fish and to go along with doses of insanity and anti-inflammatories necessary for all those aches and pains fishing these beasts will ail ya with. 2025 was a tough test though, maybe the toughest of all..? Despite smashing some true brutes the pulse was a just bit more faint for it. The muskies are seemingly adapting more and more to newer and greater overall angling pressures and as well, the season’s weather and water conditions surely altered some fish patterns I’d gotten accustomed to. Usual numbers were lower overall. Ahhh well, until next year I guess, best to be ever more mindful of muskies cause it may just take even extra time and study for taking them on in those years ahead.

Thanks Bren, the girls, Nick, Dan, Mac, Keith, Harold and Chrish for coming aboard and thanks the rest of ya for reading here at Bunks!
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