Pike fishing is as popular in America as it is over here. But over there they have another pike species called the Muskellunge, or Muskie as it’s better known. Todd Whitesel tells us about muskie fever.
They say the muskellunge is the fish of 10,000 casts, requiring hour upon hour of pitch and retrieve coming up empty time and again. It’s just when you can no longer stand the thought of throwing that absurdly large bait into the water again that it happens. It may be a wake behind a bucktail or a sudden lunge from the depths at a jerkbait when the torpedo-like figure comes calling with jaws at the ready. It’s the beginning of muskie fever. 
I had the opportunity recently to fish with Wisconsin guide Chris Beeksma who runs “Get Bit Guide Service” out of Ashland for muskies and smallmouths. His operation is portable and he fishes many different lakes, keeping track of what’s hot and what’s not. He chose a small lake in the Chequamegon National Forest for our outing. Before we even started, I knew I’d like musky fishing. Reason? Instead of meeting somewhere at 5 in the morning we chose a more sensible 11 a.m. with the plan to fish through the afternoon and into the evening. Muskies, I learned are as likely to feed in mid-afternoon as anytime.
Our lake was a typical northwoods lake with plenty of pines and birch framing the shore and an island thrown in for good measure. With three in the boat, Chris started us with jerkbaits and brightly colored bucktail spinners. Then we started casting. In about 30 minutes, Chris was reeling his bucktail just below the surface when it happened. A swoosh through the water as a figure arced behind his bait, revealing a fish close to 3 feet long. Musky! The fish charged but missed and Chris immediately went into a figure eight with the rod and bait hoping to keep the fish interested and tease it into striking. His efforts were ignored however as the fish vanished. Still, I could not help but be impressed by the action. Here was a good-sized fish, in my book at least, that charged like a missile without warning and jumpstarted the hearts of all in the boat. I was pumped. Chris casually said there were bigger fish here. That was only a small one.
That did it. The fish of 10,000 casts had suddenly become real. If that fish was hungry, maybe more would be too so we kept casting, trying different colors and patterns in hopes of payola. It was after several hours of casting and no further action when I started to understand the mystique of the muskie. During these periods of inactivity I asked Beeksma for his take on muskie fishing. I learned that follows, not strikes are the norm. Sometimes the ratio is maddening, maybe ten follows for every one strike but its part of the game and why the figure eight is practiced on every cast in hopes of drawing a strike at the very end from a finicky follower.
Confidence is a major factor too. You have to believe you will catch a muskie, if not this cast then the next one or the next one. Another thing stressed was keeping lures moving constantly. This meant bucktails were to be cast and retrieved immediately and quickly to keep them riding over submerged vegetation. Jerkbaits needed to be set in action immediately too and kept in action all the way to the boat for the figure eight. 
We fished the weed edges looking for a combination of vegetation and depth. Eight feet and cabbage presented prime habitat and became our mantra through the day. It was in such water that my bucktail suddenly felt different. As I buzzed it just below the surface I felt resistance that offered up more of its own and I reared back not sure of what I had. Cabbage it wasn’t as I saw the body of a muskellunge smash the water’s surface and turned, swimming towards the boat. I reeled in slack and caught up with the fish as it drew near and I saw its white body striped in black before it ran under the boat. It was a nice fish, perhaps fifteen pounds. I struggled with the drag to give it line and finally managed to turn it when it shot out of the water, inches from the boat and suddenly my rod was no longer heavy. The fish had escaped and I was dejected but I was also struck with a hunger to cast again and I didn’t care how many times. I would keep at it until I boated a muskie. Was this it? Was I in the throes of muskie fever?
We fished hard that afternoon and into the evening and had several more follows but the fish would not strike. I was aggravated with myself for blowing my chance earlier but aggravation and an increasingly weary casting arm were not enough to put me away. We kept casting and I was impressed with Chris’s attitude. He constantly asserted we would get one. It’s only a matter of time. I believed him. When shadows began falling on the water we switched to surface baits. The lake had turned to glass and the stillness of the water interrupted only by the bulky blocks of wood sloshing across the top. We went back to a spot where we had raised a fish earlier in the day and finally met success when a small muskie busted the surface. This time the hooks held as Chris brought the fish in. It was no giant to be sure but I didn’t care. I was glad to get my first up close look at one of these toothy torpedoes and knew when the fish was released back into the water that something was different. A feeling I couldn’t shake. I’d be back. Oh, yes I’d be back. I had caught muskie fever.
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