We tried. The trip started out with a text or maybe it was a phone call. “David. Bobby here. We need to go find water that’s not 16″ thick.” I responded in the affirmative. What else are you to do? Say no? Fuck no. Then came another text or call. Another Dave was added to the roster. Not thinking about the mathematical significance of names squared,I texted a friend and invited him. It became Indiana Dave and Andrew and Michigan Dave and Andrew. (Though if truth be told both Andrew’s are Hoosiers). That’s new math and it should have worked. Stupid fish don’t even understand math.

We called off, called in, or just disappeared from the work scene and headed south to warmer climes. Warmer is really subjective here. What’s Michigan and Indiana warm is Tennessee cold. We were pretty warm and happy in 30 degree weather when at home it’s in the negatives. Stupid winter.




We rolled into town and found our cabin at an awesome little out of the way spot that’s also a horse farm and settled in for the night. The Michigan contingent got in a few hours later and then we drank whiskey for a few hours. Whiskey is good for the soul.
The next morning we hit the water at 30 or so degrees and worked it as well as we could. It didn’t matter what we did, but we weren’t on ice and that’s what we wanted: to not be on ice. With no fish in the hands, we met up with Todd Gregory of Towee Boats, and had a good dinner at a bbq joint. It’s the south, everything is bbq or fried. Twice.





So we fished. Hard or not hard depending on who you ask. We casted a lot. We screwed around just as much. If you’ve ever had the misfortune of fishing with us, you’ll know we fuck around even when the fish are eating like gluttonous cows. Fishing is fun but taking it too serious is stupid and misses the point.









So we tried. And we failed. That’s fishing. We also had a fucking amazing time with friends and that’s why we do it. If we did it to catch fish and jerk off to fish porn, well, the fire would burn out pretty fucking quick. I had a follow on the last day I fished. It was a big wake and my heart jumped out of my chest. Surgeon General’s warning: Musky are the leading cause of third degree heart attacks while on the water. It felt good. Real good. Better than being at home drilling holes in ice. That’s for damned sure.






Hardly Strictly Musky is coming up and we’ll have our revenge….

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