The tiger muskie was positioned on a perfect ambush point. Most of its body was obscured by weeds, but I could detect the faint movement of fins and a few telltale stripes. I cast my swimbait so tight to the vegetation that the tail hook snagged a reed. \u201cLet it ride,\u201d I thought. \u201cI can probably pull it out of there and right into his strike zone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A twitch. The lure shook free and got his attention. Another twitch. He closed in. A third twitch, followed by the longest two seconds of my life. HE ATE IT!! FISH ON!!!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Let me back up. Catching a muskie has been a goal ever since my buddy Caleb got one on our maiden voyage<\/a> to Little Payette Lake. Helping land that fish was a thrill, but I wanted one of my own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Unfortunately, subsequent trips have yet to produce a muskie\u2014only smallmouth bass and pikeminnow have taken our oversized lures. So, this summer, Caleb and I decided to take our muskie hunt to the next level. Only about 30 fisheries in the state hold tiger muskie, and roughly half of those are mountain lakes,<\/a> where tigers are stocked by Fish & Game<\/a> to control brook trout populations. After tons of background research, we trekked into the backcountry to fish one such hidden gem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Muskie fishing<\/a> is best done from a boat. Shoreline access is often limited in good muskie habitat, and it would be a fiasco trying to land one from a float tube<\/a> (my usual go-to for alpine lakes). With no way to get a boat to our destination, we took small kayaks instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We arrived late-afternoon, set up camp and were on the water by 5 p.m. Within seconds of launching my kayak, I saw a big muskie swim by. They were here! But could we get one to bite?<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was clear this kayak experience would be tougher than our recent Lake Walcott trip<\/a>. We rolled in style that day, catching giant smallmouths out of souped-up Hobies provided by kayak champion Kyle Zemke<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n These kayaks were much smaller and wobblier. Caleb, a roofer by trade, was able to balance on his. He had several muskie follow his lure and hooked one that escaped. I had a hard time standing on my boat and mostly fished wading in waist-high water. I landed a few nice brook trout on flies and spinners, but ended the evening without any muskie action.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That night around the campfire, Caleb described watching muskies react to his lure. The high vantage point was critical, it seemed\u2014tomorrow, I would stand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We were up before the sun and paddling across the glass-calm lake. Within minutes, I had my first muskie follow. Then another. They didn\u2019t bite, but seeing the action gave me hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Staying atop that squirrely kayak was a battle. I even took a chilly, accidental swim, but I climbed back on and kept fishing. Several more muskies followed. None committed. When I needed a mental break, I fished for brookies and enjoyed the scenery. Then, back to the grind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I spotted my muskie hiding in the reeds at about 1 p.m.\u2014well outside \u201cpeak\u201d hours, according to lunar charts and other literature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Funny thing about muskies\u2014they don\u2019t read much. As my lure broke free from the reeds, the fish darted in and snapped it up. As I set the hook, he rocketed out of the water in one of the most jaw-dropping leaps I\u2019ve ever seen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m coming!\u201d Caleb hollered from across the lake.<\/p>\n\n\n\n