On July 18, 2002, Ted and I were fishing for muskies as usual on Chautauqua Lake, NY in our old 25 year old 14 ft. aluminum boat with bench seats that was difficult to move around in, even if it hadn't been crammed with necessary stuff: two big musky lure boxes, a huge drop-style net, an oar if we got stuck in the shallows or the old motor gave out, a big battery for the trolling motor, a big gas tank for the outboard, plus jackets, the day's lunch and water, and extra rods. All of these items were in the middle section of the boat, almost as a boundary between us, which was fine when both of us were busy fishing. If one of us actually got a bite, though, a little extra space was more a necessity than a luxury.
After fishing from dawn until about 2:00 under a hot, July sun, we were about ready to go home. It's not unusual to go without catching a musky, and it looked like this was going to be another of those days. In fact, this was my second summer of musky fishing and I hadn't caught my first one yet. Keep my novice status in mind, because what happened next opened our eyes to that old boy scout motto, "be prepared."
Ted cast out his favorite lure of 2002, a Bagley crankbait, calling out "Last cast, unless I get weeds," as he always says. But I must say about Ted, that he thinks he will get a bite on every cast and is seldom caught off guard. He likes to cast into the wind because he gets good resistance and speed on the retrieve, and he retrieved this one with the same confidence that he always has. Just as the lure came near the boat and he was about to turn into the figure eight that ends every cast, a musky came up out of nowhere and grabbed it hard. Ted was excited, knowing it was a big fish, and I was anxious to know what to do, when he called out the now famous command, "Get the net."
I had never--let me repeat that--I had never handled a fish in a net. I mean any kind of net, not one of those teabag sized nets used for tropical fish, not the kind you see hanging from fly fishing anglers in streams, not a mid-sized net for scooping up large bass. Nope, I had never handled a net, and a musky drop net is as big as I am, if not bigger. The hoops on such nets can be as wide as 44" and the depth of the net bag can be as long as 64". I am only 62" tall in comparison. Our net has a teardrop-shaped hoop size of 34" x 40" and a bag depth of 48" which was apparently bigger than I could handle, at least without practice.
The specifics are a little fuzzy, as there is a lot of drama in a boat when you have a big fish online, and everything happens very quickly. Still, there are other moments that run over and over again in slow motion. I had crawled over all our belongings to the center section of the boat, and I know Ted was telling me what to do, to put the net in the water so it would go under the fish, and I remember doing that. After all, I had seen people scoop up goldfish and such many times. I did have a picture in my mind of what it looks like for a fish to go in a net; this time it would just be on a bigger scale, I thought. Ted was then supposed to lead the fish into the net, and I guess I could say that he didn't do that correctly, but the truth is that I didn't have the net at the right angle and I was not prepared for the weight of a 51" musky.
As Ted guided the fish into the net, I think I tried to lift it a little or to get a good grip on it, but the weight of the fish just seemed to drag the net down and I couldn't bring it up. Ted has a better recollection here of the fish flopping over the side of the net and of at least one of the lure's treble hooks stuck in the net. Then everything happened so clear and so quick that we both saw what would happen but couldn't stop it. Ted knew the fish, the biggest fish he had ever caught, was about to shake free, so he thrust his left arm down between the net and the fish and grabbed her
by the operculum without damaging the gills. As fate would have it, she shook her head and jammed two hooks of a treble hook into Ted's arm, so there was nothing to do but bring up fish net and lure in one tangled mess. Blood was running everywhere and I tried to help out, although Ted's biggest concern was that I get good pictures for the record. First I took the hook out of the fish's jaw, which enabled Ted to take the fish in his right hand. If you can stop looking at the beautiful fish in the photo, you can see the lure and net dangling from Ted's arm.
After a short photo session and a safe release of the fish, I proceeded to release Ted. I cut the net to get the weight off his arm. Then I tried to cut the hook off the lure with our old bolt cutters, but I wasn't strong enough, so Ted did it, but the bolt cutters weren't really made for musky hooks, and we vowed right then to get a bigger better pair. I think the last time we used them was when a nice bass shook a hook into his thumb, but the difference in hook size is considerable and we should have been prepared. The day ended with a trip to the local hospital to have the rest of the treble hook removed by a shaky emergency room doctor.
That day taught us a lot about what we did and didn't know, and about what we needed to do before another such fish came our way. I lobbied for a bigger boat and about a month later we got one that was not too big, but that was more open and had storage space for all our necessities. A boat upgrade is a big expense, though, and if it hadn't been possible, we would have had to think seriously about some organization on our little boat. Did I say that one of the hooks got tangled in my jacket lining and I cut that, too, in the excitement?
But the issues that took priority were those of having the correct tools and knowing in advance how to use them. First, the net. We patched the spot I had to cut, and worked out a plan of action for the next fish. Until I could do some strength training, we decided that whenever a fish was played out enough to be handled and released, I would take the rod (or keep it if it was my catch) and Ted would get the net. This worked out great, but we also did some research into other tools to use in addition to or even in place of the net.
There is another popular net, the cradle style, for taking big fish. The cradle is a long strip of netting hung between two long poles, so that you slide the net under the fish holding on to the poles, keeping the fish lying in the water next to the boat. You can, as with the hoop nets bring the fish into the boat with this net.
In the chance that even with Ted handling the net, he might still get his arm close to the fish's mouth and hooks, we bought Ted one Lindy fish handling glove made of SuperFabric®. In sporting goods stores, those gloves only come in large, but women or men with smaller hands can find the same gloves on the SuperFabric® website, advertised as gardening gloves and in green instead of orange. I purchased a pair of those, so we have plenty of hand protection.
We did buy some heavy duty bolt cutters that have come in handy, and we also purchased, in addition to our regular pliers which are often sufficient, a hook remover with a long nose that keeps one's fingers far from those teeth and hooks.
The best big-fish handling tool we've ever had is the BogaGrip™ (on the left in the photo). This tool locks around the fish's lower jaw while your hands are further up the handle, and weighs the fish as you lift it. We have found the BogaGrip™ to be superior to a net, not only because there is no chance of the hooks getting tangled, but also because less of the fish's slime coat is removed, making it more likely that it will survive well after release. After a while, we even stopped taking our net, but we are thinking about getting a cradle net as a back up. There are other tools similar to the BogaGrip™ made by Rapala and Berkeley, for example, but I cannot attest to their quality; you might want to check them out, as there is quite a difference in price among them. These gripping tools are useful for picking up all kinds of fish, such as the walleyes and bass that are often bold enough to eat our big musky lures. As you can see in the photo of my nice 39" musky, the BogaGrip™ keeps my hand away from the fish's mouth and I can weigh it before taking the lower body with my left hand.
Ted and I have a pretty solid routine now, and a lot more fish under our belts. Ted usually catches more than twenty muskies a summer. I caught my first four last summer, and this year I'm up to nine, with five of those over 40". Whoever gets one online focuses on not losing it and bringing it up to the boat, when it's ready. The other one gets the camera ready, grabs the pliers and BogaGrip™ and tries to watch the fun of playing it in. Then I take the rod if it's Ted's fish, and Ted grips it, takes out the hook, and lifts the fish up into the boat. If it's my fish, I take the BogaGrip™ in one hand and the lower body in my other hand. We snap the necessary pictures, put the fish in the water to get a measurement with our floating measuring stick, then hold the fish until it's ready to go.
That's the way you should bring in a big fish. Now, we can end our days with dinner and a story, instead of a visit to the emergency room.
