Despite all the trappings associated with muskie fishing, a good part of our success still hinges on being in the right place at the right time. Northwestern Ontario was the right place to be and the 1980s were the right time to be there. New frontiers in tackle were arriving at the same time that new muskie waters, harboring huge fish, were being discovered daily.

Legends in the sport—guys like Doug Johnson and **** Pearson—were camping out or sleeping in their boats, miles down remote lakes. Pearson wouldn’t stop casting long enough to eat a sandwich back then. His wife, Betsey, no slouch in her own right, would hold them for **** so he could grab bites between lobs.

And long before the rest of the muskie world even heard about places like Lac Seul and Wabigoon, the muskie brigade was using code words to refer to the secret waters as they chatted away on two-way radios while cruising down the highway.

I recall the mayhem, not only because I was caught up in it on the fishing side, but also because I was the Ontario Ministry of Natural Resources District Manager in Kenora trying to deal with it. With a foot in both camps, I can offer principled perspective.

I count, among my major accomplishments, proposing and then writing up the legislative package to increase the muskie size-limit on Lake of the Woods from 40 to 48 inches. It was seen as a bold move at the time. The first 4-foot-minimum muskie size-limit imposed anywhere in the world. It worked better than anyone could have imagined.

Almost immediately, anglers reported seeing a startling increase in the average size of the fish they were catching. Even the technicians and biologists, checking the trap nets, were surprised at the number of muskies that were suddenly poking their noses on the 48-inch limit.

Elsewhere, in lakes where the fishing pressure had increased to extraordinary levels, the downward spiral was stopped. In Wabigoon, so many giant fish were killed in such a short period of time that famed muskie researcher, Dr. Ed Crossman, feared the 350 estimated surviving mature muskies might not find each other in the spring to spawn.

As things calmed down and high-quality muskie management became the norm rather than the exception, the minimum size-limit was raised even higher. Today, the region’s marquee muskie waters—places like Eagle Lake, Lac Seul, the Winnipeg River, and Lake of the Woods, containing genetically pure wild strains of native muskies—are protected by a 54-inch minimum size-limit. As a result, almost every fish under about 50 pounds is too small to keep—not that many muskie anglers today would kill one even that size.

So, what better time than now to consider the status of the region’s muskie populations? Has fishing pressure peaked? Has the catch of big muskies gone up or down or stayed about the same? Do the regulations need fine-tuning? Have tactics changes? And what does the future bode?

State of The Muskie Union

“Eagle is crawling with 48- to 50-inch muskies these days,” says Scott Jaeger, one of the hot young guides on the lake. “I’m seeing lots of big fish. I caught six over 50 inches, including two 53-inch muskies this past summer. People used to kill everything, especially the non-muskie anglers who would catch a fish accidentally. But the regulations now protect the population, they’re spawning successfully, and there’s a pile of 38- to 42-inch muskies coming into the fishery.”

Doug Johnson has been the dean of muskie anglers on Lake of the Woods for years and has long participated with the Ontario Ministry in a comprehensive muskie diary program. So, when Johnson quotes statistics, they’re more than anecdotal.

“The last four years I’ve seen numbers of fish from the strong 1995 through 1997 year-classes,” he says. “Those muskies are 48 to 52 inches long. The 2000 to 2003 year-classes also are strong, and those fish are showing up as 38- to 45-inchers. As these muskies grow, I expect to see a few really big fish in the 54- to 56-inch range. Then I expect a slight drop-off, but still a few glory years after that.”

The story is much the same everywhere you go in the region, from remote lakes like Manitou, Rowan, and Longlegged to more accessible waters like Pelican, Abram, Botsford, Minnitaki, Big Vermilion, and Lac Seul. Muskie populations generally appear to be flourishing.

Even in lakes like Lac Seul, where fishing pressure spiked after anglers descended on the Root River section of the lake in the mid-1980s and early 1990s, there weren’t enough big fish for every angler to kill his or her personal best, even if it was only a single fish. Within a few short years, the catch-per-unit-effort data showed it was taking anglers twice as long to catch a muskie half as large as it was before the word got out. A total catch-and-release muskie regulation was implemented on the giant reservoir and it’s paying off.

“Not that long ago, it was quite a search to locate a muskie,” says Colin Gosse, head guide at Moosehorn Lodge. “And it seemed you could only find them in select areas of the lake. Now muskies have migrated throughout Lac Seul and there’s nowhere you can’t hunt for them. I find new haunts all the time. I caught a 46.5-inch muskie on a jig and minnow last season while fishing for walleye. The muskie population is bigger than it has ever been.”

Big Fish Numbers: Up, Down, the Same?

One of my best days fishing on Lake of the Woods happened about 20 years ago when four of us, in two boats, caught and released seven fish between 22 and 42 pounds. We missed three other giants.

Multiple big-fish days back then were common. They’re much less so today. But that doesn’t mean there are fewer fish or that a new world record isn’t possible. Instead, I suspect the same numbers of big fish are being caught; they’re just being spread over a much bigger pool of anglers.

I can remember when I’d rarely see another fisherman bulging a bucktail or ripping a jerkbait. Today, it’s common to trail behind other muskie anglers fishing a prime spot. But the fish are still there. Doug Johnson sees it in his journal.

“When I first began serious muskie fishing in the early 1960s,” he says, “there were a good number of commercial fishermen on Lake of the Woods. And there wasn’t much of a catch-and-release ethic among muskie anglers. One of my first guide jobs was a group of 20 anglers. The limit back then was two muskies a day, 28 inches or bigger. At the end of the trip, we took a group photo with 40 muskies hanging from a pole.” So, even though there wasn’t much pressure, the number of fish killed was more than we experience today.

Indeed, for much of the last half of Johnson’s career on the big lake, with moderate fishing pressure and almost total catch-and-release, he says about 10 percent of his catch has averaged 48 inches or better. As the muskie fishing pressure has increased over the last ten years, however, that percentage has dropped. He acknowledges the dip may be due to fluctuating year-class strengths and even his refusal to try new water. “Right now, I’m back to seeing the 10-percent rule again,” he says. “I think that’s pretty good for any fishery.”

Johnson is also more realistic than most when it comes to having seen what he considers to have been a world-record fish. “I’ve caught hundreds of muskies in the 48- to 56-inch size,” he says, “but never anything bigger. Maybe I’m unlucky with the monsters, but I have some real good fishing buddies who also have spent thousands of hours on Lake of the Woods and they’ve never seen one either.”

Gosse agrees with Johnson. He says more well-documented, over-50-inch muskies are showing up on Lake Seul, but 55 inches appears to be the upper limit. Then again, given the size and relative remoteness of the giant reservoir, he quickly adds: “I’m on the right body of water to have the chance at a fish over 60 inches.”

For reasons mostly habitat-related, Eagle Lake may be the best place in Northwestern Ontario to hunt for a new world record. It has held the honor in the past. It has produced some recent, well-documented fish in the 55- to 60-pound range. Better yet, according to Jaeger, he has seen a record book contender—twice, as a matter of fact.

“I was throwing a perch-colored Depth Raider,” he says, “when I spotted the tip of a gigantic muskie tail sticking out of the water. I cast the lure, twitched it, and she ate it. I only had her on for about 5 seconds. I figured she was well over 58 inches. A few days later, my dad and I pulled into the same spot and I saw the tail sticking out of the water again. The water was crystal clear and this time she lethargically followed my lure all the way to the boat. I did a big, wide oval but she hung behind the lure. This one’s a true giant—over 60, maybe even 65 pounds.”

Tweak the Regs to Produce Goliath?

If, as our experts suggest, Northwestern Ontario muskie fisheries have benefited greatly from the modern rule changes, is there a way to perhaps fine-tune the regulations to produce even bigger, say 60-inch-plus, 65-pound, world-record fish?

Johnson doesn’t think so. He says the regulations have done a superb job, but that it’s now up to muskie anglers to do their part by better handling of the fish they catch and release.

“It’s particularly a problem with the bigger fish,” he says, “as they’re harder to handle and more likely to be photographed numerous times. Folks still need to learn proper release techniques. I still see floaters, particularly during the hot summer months. There’s really no need to take ten photographs of these fish.”

Gord Bastable is the owner of Vermilion Bay Lodge on Eagle Lake and one of the region’s most respected muskie guides. He wishes the rules prohibited the use of livebait, although he’s quick to acknowledge that when muskie anglers use suckers and quick-strike rigs properly, they likely injure no more fish than when casting lures. Still, he worries about less-experienced anglers who use smaller baitfish, don’t use quick-strike rigs, let the fish swallow the bait, and don’t hire skilled guides.

Muskies Canada’s Charles Weiss sides with Bastable. He says banning the use of suckers would eliminate the mortality associated with gut-hooked muskies. “It would also send a message to visitors to Ontario that we really are serious about preserving the fish,” he adds. “Using livebait is backward, in my view, and shows a disregard for the fish.”

Prohibiting angling at night might produce positive benefits, Bastable thinks. It was banned years ago on Eagle Lake as a strategy to protect the walleye fishery, but according to Bastable, it has paid unexpected benefits for the lake’s muskie population. Might expansion of the regulation produce similar results elsewhere in the region?

Tactical Changes

Finally, what about tactical changes? Are more muskies being seen and caught today because the average muskie angler is much better-educated in seasonal tactics and techniques and better equipped than ever before? There’s no doubt about it.

“Almost ever year there’s a new hot lure,” Johnson says. “Recently it has been the double-ten bucktails. These big in-line spinners have two #10 Colorado blades and they give you a great workout. Some have flashabou, some marabou, and some are rubber-skirted, but the fish think they’re food.”

Johnson also favors noisy topwater lures because they’re easy to use and create the heart-stopping action that’s so much a part of muskie fishing. And he continues to catch a pile of big fish trolling. “It seems like they still can’t tell the difference between a Jake or a Believer and a tulibee,” he says.

One of the tactical keys on Eagle Lake, according to Jaeger, is to be out on the water early, when the sun’s just coming up, and again when it’s just starting to set. He also says it’s critical to know how to figure-eight properly. “I probably catch 75 percent of my muskies on the figure-eight,” he says. “As a rule, muskies like to strike coming up, so whenever I see a fish following, I jam my rod tip as far as I can into the water and then rip the lure to the surface at the end. You can make a mammoth muskie eat your lure that way.”

Bigger baits are better on Lac Seul, according to Colin Gosse. Whether it’s a gigantic, double-bladed in-line spinner or a humongous topwater, Gosse is convinced big baits attract and trigger big muskies to strike. And like Johnson, he’s sold on trolling, especially late in the season.

The very newest lure and hottest technique is one most muskie anglers have likely never seen or practiced. The bait is called the Trainwreck and was developed by muskie aficionado and lure maker, Don Schwartz.

Schwartz fashions the massive 16-inch-long tandem spinnerbaits using #8 and #10 Colorado blades, a 1.5-ounce minnow-shaped keel-style head, and tinsel and silicone skirt. And while you can catch muskies casting the giant heavyweight lure, it comes into a league of its own when you deliberately troll and smash it into rockpiles, boulders, and sunken logs—hence its name—at speeds ranging from 2 to 9 miles an hour. Nature Vision is manufacturing the Trainwreck, available to anglers the first half of 2008.

And, if the tradition continues, some muskie angler somewhere is going to buy one, snap it onto the end of his leader, and catch a gargantuan fish of a lifetime in one of Northwestern Ontario’s marquee muskie waters, proving once again the importance of being in the right place at the right time.

*In-Fisherman Field Editor Gord Pyzer has been working with the In-Fisherman staff for over a decade.

Contacts: Gord Bastable, vbay@drytel.net; Colin Gosse, muskyguidegosse@hotmail.com; Scott Jaeger, muskymanor@drytel.net; Doug Johnson, dougj@wiktel.com; Leonard Skye, leonard.skye@kpdsb.on.ca.