It was the third year in a row that my wife Cindy, daughter Jodi, and I had spent at Jung’s Birch Lake “Tranquility Cottage”. Born of necessity to get-a-way in the middle of the pandemic of 2020, we now use the week to reconnect. Because Jodi’s been going to grad school in Texas this last year, she came back to join us Up North where we could spend time making some memories together.
The days quickly fell into a rhythm. Being familiar now with the lake and surrounding area, I typically headed out to fish in the morning and spent time at the cabin with the ladies in the afternoon. During that time we’d read, journal, take walks, fix and eat dinner, go for a drive, or go get ice cream. The weather was pleasant during the day (70° ’s) and cold at night (50° ’s); a refreshing change of pace from what Cindy and I had been experiencing back home and from the triple digits of central Texas for Jodi!
I’d caught some fish in this lake each of the last two years; not a lot of fish, but some big fish. So each cast this year was made with hopeful expectations. Gordon Lightfoot sang in his song of Lake Superior and the Edmund Fitzgerald, “she never gives up her dead.” Likewise, Birch Lake doesn’t always like to give up her fish, unless the fisherman has a lot of patience, some ideas of where to start, and a little knowhow on the lures of choice. Any knowledge that I’ve gained has primarily come through intuition, mistakes, and sometimes just plain, dumb luck. When she does give up her fish, they are downright memorable!
The first full day of the week (Sunday) was my 56th birthday. I fished for several hours that morning with absolutely no action; until there was. While retrieving a deep diving lure, a fish hit just below the aluminum boat. I saw the flash, and instantly felt the pull. What I eventually reeled in was a 23” walleye. Although I’ve fished a lot throughout my life, for some reason this was my first walleye; and probably one of the last of the main freshwater game fish I had yet to catch. We postponed my birthday dinner of tacos and had walleye, dipped in Shore Lunch, and fried in butter. It was a memorable happy birthday indeed!
I Used My Grand-Dad Fagerlund's Old Fillet Knife To Clean The Walleye.
On Monday morning the air was cool, and with hardly any breeze, the lake was like glass. I tried several different spots around our end of the lake, but didn’t catch anything until the sun began to heat things up. Using my Whopper Plopper lure, I caught a nice 18” smallmouth bass that exploded on it and jumped multiple times; all within sight of our cabin and dock. I released it and watched it swim quickly back under some nearby lily pads. It’s fun to catch a fish on that surface lure as I feel like Matt Nelson, the YouTube fisherman under the tagname of, “ndyakangler.” That evening Jodi and I fished together in a back bay for a while. I managed to catch a 20” pike; releasing it after a quick picture into the water from which it came.
Tuesday morning was slow going. I caught and released one small pike, but otherwise it was simply time in a boat; which was still worth every minute. Before heading in, I shared the last hour or so with a doe and her two fawns as they made their way along the shoreline.
On Wednesday morning I started the day by running the hills around the lake, jumping off the dock to rinse off, and eating breakfast. By that time I had formulated a bit of an adventure in my mind, so with the kayak that comes with our cabin, I set off with some of my fishing gear for a neighboring lake. It was like being the main character of an epic tale about a guy who trudges through Hell to get to a Heavenly secret lake. Indeed, it required a lot of grunt work, mud, slogging up and over beaver dams, and wallowing through a swamp, but it was well worth the struggle. Halfway to my destination I took a break to catch my breath, rest, and was actually able to get a connection so I could talk to my Dad on the phone. I told him he wouldn’t believe where I was (actually he could picture such a place because he knows me, has done that type of thing himself, and even looked up my location on a satellite image). The ensuing lake was choked with weeds, but I fished some of the sporadic open sections with a #5 silver Mepps. After an initial small pike, I managed to catch and wrestle in two twin northerns at a smidge over 25 inches. I elected to keep them as I truly do love the taste of pan fried pike. Before I headed back, I caught and released a couple of largemouth bass that were hanging out next to a beaver lodge. The final paddle across Birch Lake was against the wind, which of course had whipped up some small, rolling whitecaps by that time. I thought my arms were going to rip out of their sockets before I reached our cottage, but regardless, it was a classic way to end the day’s tale!
Thursday morning’s fishing expedition lasted no more than an hour. While fishing a small bay, a giant fish went airborne after hitting my Mepps. Spinner. It was hard to tell what it was exactly. All I really saw was a large body and a lot of water being thrashed about. It dove deep, but as I brought it close to the boat, after it had taken multiple runs, I could see that it was a muskie. I felt fortunate that I had my large, rubberized net. It’s safe for the fish, and a bit easier to handle them when they are in it. Make no mistake that with the combination of power, hook barbs, and fish teeth, it’s not what I would label as an easy task. It is, however, more manageable of a venture as it allows you to keep a fish in the water while using your multi-tool pliers to get the hook out. Actually, for this fish, which measured at 33 inches, I had to grab it under its jaw and lift it from the net. I find that it immobilizes them more than a gripper. This also allowed me to reach down into the muskie’s mouth to extract the treble hook while still holding it. I lifted it for a quick photograph and then eased it back into the lake, where with a flick of its tail, it disappeared. At that point, and after a fish like that, I quit for the morning. That fish was my fourth muskie in three summers, my second of the year, and although the smallest of all of them, I was more than satisfied with the experience!
My Plug Of Cedar With A Prayer Of Thankfulness For The Opportunity Before Each Fishing Adventure.
That afternoon I took the girls to a nearby bay where they caught panfish and perch. They had fun, laughed, and enjoyed being out on the lake. We kept 6 of them that we ate that evening along with one of the pike from the day before.
I closed out the week with a 25 ½ inch pike on a cold and early Friday morning. I took a selfie with the fish and then released it as I didn’t feel as though I needed to keep it (we were already bringing home one of the two pike that I had caught on Wednesday for a meal later this fall). The interesting story of that last fish was that I was able to see the wake it made as it charged out from some lily pads before it actually hit my spinner. Talk about short lived anticipation! Knowing that something was about to happen, I waited only a fraction of a second for the actual strike.
All in all our week together was fun, relaxing, and just what any doctor with half a mind would have ordered. Fishing was just a portion of what we did that week, but to that end, it was an important facet of the overall experience. Thankfully, Birch Lake, in its tranquility and serenity, shared some of its secrets and gave up her fish. Interestingly enough, the brochure for Jung’s Birch Lake Cottages states, “The natural beauty of this 180 acre lake offers you great fishing for Musky, Northern, Bass, Walleye, and Panfish…” Indeed it does, and indeed it did - on all accounts, with fish that were truly memorable!
We were on a final fling for the summer. A final fling to the Northwoods, and a final fling with our daughter before she headed to the southern side of this country for Grad School. The cabin we had rented was sitting in exactly the same place we had left it last year. It felt like home because we were now familiar with the owners (Don & Betty Jung), the place on the lake, and the surrounding area; as well as the fact that when we arrived to unpack, all of the windows were open to the screens as the air off the water was flowing freely.
The day we had arrived happened to be my birthday. Typically I push my limits on that day; running long miles, or fishing insurmountable bends and currents of a river. My only exertion that day, however, was driving North and carrying gear in from the Jeep to the cabin. That was an undertaking well worth any energy spent on the day I turned the “Double Nickel” (#55), because it was another chance to get-a-way in a summer already filled with various adventures. Following a dinner of baked spaghetti made with seasoned pork (one of my favorites), I escaped out onto the lake to cast a line from the kayak.
For the first several days my hours were spent fishing, running the Bearskin Trail, reading, and writing. Together we swam, took both boat and car rides, and of course went out for ice cream. In the evenings we relaxed and binge watched the final few episodes of the Longmire series that we had started watching earlier in the Spring.
On the evening of our 3rd day we had a big storm rumble through with rolling thunder and wicked lightning. With the lights from the cabin penetrating the darkness, you could see that the path to the lake had turned into a babbling brook. Eventually the power went out, but candles only added to the ambiance. As we got ready for bed, we saw a long bolt of lightning strike a point out further on the lake. The charged energy was a whitish-blue bolt that appeared to stand suspended above the large pines that it illuminated. Among the flashes in the distance, we saw that intense strike, seemingly up close and personal; not once, but twice.
The following morning I got up early and bailed water from the boat so I could go fishing. Instead of relying solely on the kayaks and canoe that come with the cabin, this year we decided to rent a motor for the cabin’s aluminum boat. It allowed me a little more time to fish as I moved to various spots around the lake. Since this was our second time at Jung's Birch Lake Cottages, I had begun to learn where I could find drop-offs, sand bars, and underwater structures where the fish hang out. In addition, I also had learned where eagles perch and the loons dive for small fish. With my telescoping camera I got some great pictures of wildlife.
Once the boat was dry and my gear was put in, I fished a small indent of a bay with a decent drop off. Just off the end of a dock I had a good sized bass hit my lure. It jumped and fought before finally throwing my lure as it approached the starboard side of the boat. After losing that fish I decided to relocate and work a shoreline that averaged five feet; hoping to catch a midmorning bass or pike cruising the shallows.
While the sun rose higher, and the temperatures climbed, I was beginning to consider heading back to the “Tranquility Cabin.” Other than the bass, I hadn’t caught a thing. I chose instead to fish a shallower area, choked full of weeds, hoping to entice a lurking fish in a last ditch effort to hook into something. I made a long cast with my favorite #5 silver spooned Mepps, when I became instantly snagged. It was held fast and wouldn’t budge; until it did. As I pulled back on my pole hoping to break free, the drag on my pole began to whine. I knew the feel, and this time there was no mistaking it. I was pretty certain what I was up against, and that lightning was about to strike twice. (See last year's blog entry entitled: A Rookie In Tight Quarters)
While I held the pole with my left hand, bracing it against my forearm, I used my right to pull up the anchor. With my knee holding each tug, I kept the anchor from slipping back down. I didn’t need an inadvertent tangle. I was the picture of mindfulness as I surveyed my surroundings, trying to figure out what I was going to do when I managed to get the muskie up to the boat.
At least I was in a boat. Last year I was side by side with teeth, barbs, and water in a kayak. This time I could stand and look down into the water as it came into view. Comparing it to the yellow measuring tape stuck to the inside of the boat, I muttered something about it being almost 50 inches while recording a quick video. In reality it was closer to 40 inches, but I hadn’t been sure how long the yellow measuring sticker actually was in the foreground of my sight.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF A
THE MUSKIE FINALLY COMING UP TO THE BOAT
To watch the video you may you may need to change the "view version" at the bottom of the page.
Once I took a few pictures, my mind snapped into action. I had previously removed one of the oars to avoid having it get in the way, so I used the remaining one still in the lock to “river-raft” myself towards the nearest shore. But after rowing back and forth once or twice I realized that it wasn’t going to work. The great fish was tiring so I took a chance and put the pole between my knees. I grabbed the loose oar and put it back in the lock before rowing as hard as I could 3 or 4 times to propel myself into the sandy shallows.
As we neared the shore, I threw the anchor out and jumped into the water. With my gripper in hand, I eased the muskie towards me. I could see the teeth protruding alongside it’s massive head with the hooks of my spinner solidly held in it’s hard bony jaw. Fortunately it was hooked in a way that would make for an easy extraction. It was the muskie’s eyes that held my attention though. They stared right through me. Without malice or ill-contempt they simply took me in. Have you ever looked into the eyes of a live muskellunge? I couldn’t see a distinct pupil, but what I saw was a huge, steely-gray button, like those of a shark. It was hauntingly memorable. I savored the moment.
On my first attempt to attach my gripper on it’s jaw, the giant fish simply pulled away and made a run, pulling my line and drag with it. On my second attempt I was firmly attached. Using a pair of needle nosed pliers from my multi-tool, I quickly removed the hook. I grabbed my phone from the seat of the boat and lifted the fish as high as I could. My face strained, and my mouth contorted, but I managed a picture. That was all I wanted, and all that I could get. It wasn’t pretty, but it sure was beautiful.
I noticed a small section of it’s gill that had slipped out from behind it’s gill cover and wondered what old war wound had once occurred. Imagine if a fish like this could share it’s experiences. What a story it would be! I released the gripper from the jaw of the muskie and held it in my arms while bending over knee-deep in the water. I worked it back and forth, forcing water and oxygen through its gills and sharing the moment; wishing someone would remind and help me to breathe. Gradually strengthened, the muskie slowly, but powerfully, pushed away. With its giant tail fin swishing back and forth it was a perfect contrast of reddish-brown against the sandy, graveled bottom of the lake.
As the fish disappeared into the depths below the sparkling surface of the water, I stood and breathed. Gentle waves lapped against the sides of the boat beside me. Unbelievable. It was simply unbelievable. I saw in my mind, as I had captured in the final seconds of the video that I had taken, the sun perfectly catching the colors and size of that muskie when it had turned beside the boat; its eyes looking up at me. While standing there in the water where I had released the fish, it was a memory I didn’t think that I’d probably ever forget.
I packed my loose gear away, lifted the anchor into the back of the boat, and pushed it out into deeper water before hopping up into the bow. As I motored back to the cabin, I’ll admit that I had a smile etched on my face, but only while shaking my head in belief. I couldn’t wait to tell Cindy and Jodi my story.
That afternoon I worked on a blog entry about a fishing trip that my cousins and I had taken a few weeks prior, and then we all headed into Minocqua. I needed a new reel, as the one I had been using had a cracked bail (and had already been fixed once by my Dad). I’m sure that the strain from the muskie had accentuated it. The guys at Kurt’s Island Sport Shop were helpful and talked me into a Piscifun Honor XT2000 Reel; one that I never even heard of before. I enjoyed talking to the gentleman helping me as I looked at the various reels, and showed him a picture of the muskie that I caught that morning.
The girls and I then went to Kilwin’s for ice cream and walked along the shoreline beside West Park Avenue. Ice cream helps make a vacation feel like a vacation, and we laughed as we talked.
Once we were home to the cabin I kept feeling like the morning’s catch was going to be difficult to repeat. I shrugged my shoulders though, grabbed my pole, and told Cindy & Jodi that I was going to cast off the dock a few times before calling it a day.
On my second or third cast I got a hold of a big bass. Once hooked, it consequently jumped four different times in succession. Each time I felt the line tension lessen, as it raced towards me, I reeled like crazy to keep the line taut. I knew when it was about to jump and try to throw the lure. Jodi and Cindy actually heard the splashing from up at the cabin and came out to see what was going on. What I caught was the biggest smallmouth bass I’ve ever caught at 19 ½ inches. With Jodi’s help, she snapped a couple of pictures of me holding the smallie and then I gently released the big bass off the end of the dock and back into the water.
I stood and shook my head again. What a day it had been on good ole Birch Lake. Two big fish? Are you kidding me? Lightning can indeed strike twice!
