First River Muskie: Fish Of 1,000 Casts From The Cuda 12

Stalking the fish of 1,000 casts took me on one of the most interesting, trying and tiring missions of my fishing career. The 2012 Jackson Dealer Summit brought me to middle Tennessee.  A sleepless night and a rude alarm clock prepped me for the four hour drive and the eight hour float. Jackson Kayak's James McBeath, Indian James, Fishing Team member Mark Wheeler met me in the parking lot and whisked me off to toast and eggs at Beano's and a winding, car chase on some back country roads.  At the launch, a scenario was laid out where simply sighting, much less catching, fish is considered a success.  A good musky day is “a few follows”, a great musky day is “a few follows and a blow up or two” and an INCREDIBLE musky day is “a few follows, a few blow ups and a fish on.”  A sharp departure from my normal river excursions, stealthy, river ghosts grow to exceptional sizes and pack some serious hardware.  We launched in the morning sun, a Jackson flotilla comprised of a Coosa, Cuda 14 and Cuda 12.

Bluff walls, clear water, and serenading song-birds painted a scene of mountain tranquility.  Heavy rods, steel leaders and the thunderous splashes of  heavy lead and steel lures were a stark contrast to the peaceful, serenity.  Throughout the eight hour float we saw  evidence of the ghosts we sought; elongated shadows emerging from the depths, stalking lures from the periphery.  Although my companions had numerous follows, I had yet to sight the first Muskie.  This is as physically demanding as fishing can get; constantly firing heavy lures into tight spaces and burning them back.  Real Muskie fishermen, according to James, develop a "Muskie muscle" from firing off those big baits.  Needing a change, I swapped out the monstrosity of a spinnerbait, likely weighing four ounces, for a lighter, inline spinner.  Soon after, I encountered my first Muskie.  Snapping a cast under a low-hanging bush, I dropped my lure in a shady pocket and stroked my rod tip to engage the spinner blade.  The black shadow materialized from thin air and smashed my lure.  With my rod tip high in the air I had no shot at slamming the hooks home and watched, dejected, as the Muskie vanished.  After collecting my thoughts,  I rallied and began firing accurate casts into the tight confines of log jams, dead-falls, and undercut banks.  Then, some twenty minutes above our takeout spot, I opted to hook on a Super Fluke soft-jerkbait for a trailer; giving the lure an exaggerated tail kicking motion. 

The stars and moons aligned and, after cast nine hundred ninety-nine,  a Tennessee river ghost, the fish of 1,000 casts, came barreling out of a shaded pocket; dorsal fin, back and tail completely out of the water.  Surging after my lure, it missed, I stalled, and it engulfed the big spinner.  I hammered the hooks home, twice, three times for good measure, and an all out river brawl ensued.  Pulling drag, beating the water to a froth, the huge Muskie pulled me to mid-river and back into the shaded bank.  When it launched itself completely out of the water I hammered the air with a fist pump and roar of exhilaration.  Needing more celebration, I switched hands and started fist pumping with the other.  I had done it.   Against all odds, I stalked and captured one of the most elusive fish of the Southeast.  At 40" this Muskie is a true trophy and one of my biggest freshwater catches.  There is something uniquely special about taking on a new challenge, going after a new species.  Don't be surprised if you see chasing river Muskie again in the near future.