The Waiting

So, how long are you willing to wait? How long can you go without catching a musky? What about our beloved fifty-incher? Just how many casts can you make with a positive mental attitude, not catch a fish and do it all over again the next day? My brother Steve has all but given up on Musky fishing. He’s gone thirty plus days on Georgian Bay, our yearly outing, without catching a musky. Another hunter buried in the musky graveyard. I know two brothers that fished their hearts out a few years ago trying to catch their first Musky. You guessed it, two beaten Musky soldiers never to try again. Frankly, not many people go weeks and months on the water without catching a musky. If this is you, you might be doing something wrong. Try the hatchery!

I suggest to you that it’s not the catching at all that gives us the Musky buzz. You know that giddy mental mush that overtakes us weeks and months before the big trophy hunt, or pulling up to the spot of all spots, or throwing back at the tanker that just swiped at your lure and missed. Why would my brother Steve throw a thousand casts a day for over thirty days? It’s not the catching! It’s the anticipation of the catch! What makes your grandmother sit for hours at the bingo table? Ask the recovered Alcoholic or Junky that amazingly feels relaxed and calm knowing that they are going to drink or use. Not once they get the payoff, that’s ruinous, but right before they use again. Why would the ordinary salesmen make the next call having not sold anything all day or all week? Have you ever played craps? It’s the anticipation of the payoff that’s the buzz, not the forty-dollar winnings. So where does that leave us Musky guys and gals?

A little perspective goes a long way. Pavlov called it “Variable Positive Reinforcement.” The moment will come when my bait will stop, or the trolling rod will scream. That one moment, galactic in scope, on the end of my rod crystallizes the anticipation; mainlining musky morphine straight to this addict’s brain. Calm… peaceful… serene at last! Get the net! Holy SH*#! She’s huge, gotta be over fifty. What a payoff! Nothing could be greater in the fresh water fishing world.

Picture an inmate, doing his time. What choice does he have? That out-date is coming, albeit years away. It will get here, obviously later than sooner. Funny thing though, once the marvelous day is upon him fear grips him tightly. Sound like a follow? You’re only going to hook the fish and release it after a couple pictures, why the knee knocking fear? Could it be the monumental build up? No, couldn’t be. Not the multitude of minutes spent in anticipation. Stevie, in roughly thirty days, has been on the edge of his mental seat for 43,200 minutes. That’s enough to drive a fella crazy, only to be told your out-date has been moved indefinitely. It’s virtual musky suicide!

I have three fish over fifty in my nine years of chasing, fifty-five being the biggest. It has happened for me and countless others but will it happen for you? You better believe it will, or start diggin’. Stevie’s got an open plot next to his.

So it is that I launch my boat, rods ready, hooks sharpened, mist in my face, the hum of the motor as I idle away from the dock. Joyous in God’s creation, assuming my position in nature all doped up and giddy on the best drug going, waiting to be blessed with that strike, but just how long can I wait… as long as it takes!

Moon River 53", Fishing with Jody Mills