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This is an article written by Steve Brigman of the
Springfield News-Leader and This is just how the article appeared in the News-Leader For the article about Randy Click Here |
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Fishing for muskie could become latest obsession Friendly, family atmosphere of tournament at Pomme de Terre makes one want to do it again. For three or four years now, I have been planning to get up to one of the muskie tournaments on Pomme de Terre, but it always seems to get past me. But last weekend I finally got out there among the Missouri muskie nation and fished in their annual tournament. Now, as a newbie to the muskie game, this is probably still not something I would have likely taken on as the captain of a boat, but when muskie guide Earle Hammond called and invited me to join him, I went all in. I've done a bit of muskie fishing this fall, and have even caught two of the toothy critters. They are about the meanest thing pound-for-pound that doesn't live in Africa. They are downright scary when you get them in the boat. They never give up and always seem to be determined to bite the hand that hooked them. It's a little scary to show
up at the dock and see the nets these muskie guys tote around. You could fit
a small calf in Earle's. "It'll come in handy," he promised. I hoped so. I had survived enough close encounters to know that this whole muskie thing was something I could get used to. I'm sure there are a lot of you just like me out there; I'll get off on some tangent and be obsessed for awhile. Sometimes I never get over it. I'm suspecting this muskie obsession is here to stay. I've dropped a few bucks into equipment now and have a long list in my head of stuff I need. I bummed a few muskie magazines off Earle's coffee table and read myself to sleep with them one night. For me, the whole motivation for participating was simply to hook into another of these beasts. Having done a little competitive fishing, I will tell you in general that it is not my cup of tea. I mean that in the every-weekend-I-fish-a-different-lake kind of way. The occasional contest where there's little at stake is fun. I will admit though, once I am there, the competitive juices flow. These muskie tournaments are just a little different from others in which I have participated. First of all, the guys and gals sit around having breakfast together before the tournament telling each other where they caught their fish the day before and where they would be starting their day. They all seem to want each other to catch fish. It is sort of a family atmosphere. In fact, there were husband-and-wife teams, dad-and-daughter teams and brothers who were competing together. I am most impressed with the
whole catch-and-release format of the event. When a fish is caught, another
of the competing boats is summoned to witness the measurement, weighing and
releasing of the fish. The folks all seemed most willing to comply, acting
eager to see the catch. Can you see some guys fishing in a high-dollar bass
tournament leaving the point he is fishing on, in fear of losing it to a
competing team, to come witness another boat's catch? Muskies folks are quite sociable out on the water, often stopping to visit and share information. It's pretty laid back. Some even take time out at one of the eateries on the water for lunch. In the evenings, they all meet to celebrate their day on the water. Results are announced and there are raffles and drawings for door prizes. There are about enough of the prizes, mostly fishing lures, for about half the folks there to win. I am proud to say that I won something each of the three nights that there were such drawings: two muskie lures and a book of Missouri lake maps. If you haven't priced muskie baits, these are quite nice prizes to win, especially for a newbie trying to build a tackle box. There was a tournament on Friday and then another that ran Saturday and half of Sunday. Besides the competition for muskie points (four points for each fish and another point for each inch over 30), they also give awards for big bass and heaviest bass stringer. You can catch some pretty nice bass while muskie fishing. On Saturday night there is a banquet, where they raffle off things like a vacation package, a tackle box full of muskie lures and a St. Croix fishing rod. Mark Boone, head of the state's muskie program, was there to update the folks on the state of the muskie union, but you didn't need anybody to tell you that muskies are flourishing in Pomme. There were 33 caught on Friday alone. One boat landed six! The three-day tally was 58. Well, I let my team down by failing to hook a fish. Earle caught a 40-incher on Saturday. Just being on the boat when a fish like that is caught is amazing. And then some other guys reel up their lines to come verify your fish and are clearly happy to do it. Wow. It's the Pomme de Terre Chapter of Muskies Inc. that puts on the tournament. They only hold two contests a year, to protect the fishery. The group has an ongoing project to trying to introduce vegetation to the lake and offers the muskie-fishing experience to the uninitiated through a guide-for-day event. For a nominal fee, one of the club members takes out one or two folks, and the club throws in a steak dinner at the end of the day. The muskie nation eats well. I, for one, will be signing up for next fall's contest. This is my kind of competition: there's a chance to catch a muskie; you can win stuff without catching a fish; the newcomer is treated like family; and there is food. |
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This is an article written by Steve Brigman of the Springfield News-Leader and it is a very good article about Randy Murawski and fishing Fellows Lake This is just how the article appeared in the News-Leader |
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Fellows Lake's muskies plentiful, but not easy to catch What a glorious day. It was the sort of autumnal perfection that makes you want to throw a football around with the kids or sit in a tree in the woods. The cloudless sky warmed the brisk morning into a shirtsleeve afternoon. Out on the lake, a still morning finally gave in to a slight breeze. The woods around the banks were growing gold, with crimson highlights. On a small patch of bright, green park grass, four small bucks poked playfully at each other in a preview of fiercer battles ahead. It doesn't get any better than fall in the Ozarks. I had written a couple of pieces about Fellows Lake, but had never actually fished there. The motor on my boat doesn't comply with the 40-horsepower restriction. Being close to home is certainly one reason I wanted to get to know the lake, but the real kicker came when I accompanied biologists for a day of checking sampling nets. The number and size of the muskies, along with lots of really nice crappie, kept me up that night. Some of you may know that I
have been on something of a muskie kick lately, so when Randy Murawski
called t When I arrived, the high sky and lack of wind warned me of a tough day of fishing. Such conditions seem to affect other fish in our clear lakes, and I figured it would do so with the top of the food chain. And this fish of 10,000 casts provides a sort of needle-in-a-haystack experience even on a good day. I had been fortunate to catch a couple in my brief muskellunge career. For the guys I have been fishing with, it seems that the whole muskie deal breaks down into half casting and half trolling. I noticed at the tournament that some folks do one or the other exclusively. Now, I would rather cast than troll, but I would rather catch fish trolling than get blanked casting. The huge-bait casting part of the operation does wear on these ol' joints, so a cast-till-you're-tired-then-go-troll approach works well for me. Randy and I started our morning by casting jerk baits and in-line spinners (that's bucktails in muskellungese). I'm a pretty positive guy, but it just felt too much like one of those days when it was beautiful to be out, but the fish were snoozing on the couch. It wasn't long until we were easing along a steep bank, rods bent and feet up. The first ducks of the year had arrived and were taking to the air as the few boats on the lake disturbed them. The crappie anglers sat above their brush piles and a catfisherman drifted several lines behind his boat. We worked Randy's favorite banks for an hour or so when the breeze began to come up. The troll-till-you're-bored-then-go-cast urge took over and we headed to the eastern end of the lake where it was shallower with lots of coon-tail moss. One weird thing about Fellows is that they don't open the gates until 7 or so. You can't be on your spot at dark-thirty. I looked at these weed beds with lust, imagining that first cast of the dark morning. You also have to be off at dusk — no night fishing. They need to change that. I didn't have a lot of confidence that the fish would be hanging out in the shallow flats — that is, until a huge muskie jumped, its whole body clearing the water. You talk about a confidence boost. A few moments later, a 6-inch gizzard shad leapt twice and the muskie came completely out of the water. I presume it caught the shad, because it showed no signs of hunger when we cast our baits at it. This grew old, so we went trolling. Poor old Randy had never fished with an outdoor writer before, and I am sure he was unprepared for the yakking that could take place while trolling. We can't help it; we are born storytellers. You ought to hear it at our conferences. Randy and I were off in Alaska somewhere when his rod bent double. He stood and turned, and the bouncing rod tip assured us that this was no snag. The huge swell in the distance told us he had hooked a big one. I've become awfully good at netting. Unfortunately, that's because I get a lot of practice; the other guy in the boat is always the one catching the fish. I had been around these muskie lovers long enough to know to keep the fish in the water as we unhooked and measured it. Randy's fish went 38 inches and was unusually fat. He had caught about 25 of them in his life, but still seemed to be as excited as a guy catching his first. After gently releasing the fish, we went back to trolling. I had a mixed feeling of: now they are biting, and we've caught one; catching two is a long shot. The afternoon shadows reached out onto the water we were fishing while a foursome of turkeys played through on the sun-drenched bank across the lake. I finally made my lone catch late of the day: a rusty old spinning rod and reel. As the sun threatened the treetops, we decided to call it a day in order to make it home for the Cardinals game. At the ramp, we discussed the possibility of doing it again the next weekend. I was in. I figured next time it would be my turn to catch one. |
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