Time on the water Bill Gardner

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ecko
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Time on the water Bill Gardner

Post by ecko »

Not a how to book on catching Muskie, but you follow Bill at his quest for his Moby Muskie during 200 days on the water in the eighty's.
As a paperback, it's very expensive but as a kindle book it's not, but to have it your selve is more fun.
I bought it when it was printed again by musky hunter agazine, and payed the suggested retail for it then, wish i bougt a dozen.

During his quest perspective changes, lots of humor and reflection and some simularities in lure fishing for big pike.

Introduction

Spring 1980

There comes a time in a man’s life when the thing to do is go fishing. For me that time came a few months ago as I was driving to my job as a reporter for the Associated Press in Los Angeles. Things were beginning to bug me. Things like smog, a 25-mile traffic jam to work each day, dirt swirling around me as I walked along city sidewalks. There were too many people were my elbows ought to be, too many cars taking up space that could be put to better use by my car. As the naturalist Joseph Wood Krutch once noted, your own car may be a great convience, but everybody else’s is a doggoned nuisance.
Another thing bugging me wat the fact that the AP had decided I could best advance the cause of American journalism by working from 10:30 at night to 6:30 in the morning for the next six months.
So there I was, quietly desperate and stuck in traffic one morning when I happened to notice this big billboard on the side of a city bus. There was no picture on the billboard, just five eye-grabbing words: FOR GOD’S SAKE, GET OUT! Now, Moses and his stone tablets notwithstanding, you can’t get a much clearer message then that.
I suspect most people thought those words on the bus were part of a the advertising blitz for a new movie about a haunted house. But I knew better. I knew the words were meanth for me. It was the first time I’d ever gotten any decent advice from a bus, and I figured I’d better take it. I adviced the AP that sleep figured prominently in my plans for the nighttime hours of the next six months. I was saying goodbeye to earthquakes, brushfires, muslides, the Hillside Strangler, the Skid Row Slasher, the Skid Row Stabber, the Alphabet Bomber, the Pillowcase ******, Howard Jarvis, Jane Fonda and Jerry the tree-climbing dog. For the next year, I told my friends, there’s something else on my mind. Fishing. It’s not that I planned to become a shiftless bum or anything like that. No, I prefer to think of it as becoming a Musky Cowboy. I was gonna get me a boat and trailer and wander from lake to lake in the north woods of Wisconsin in hopes of lassoing a “big one.” I was joining a fairly sizeable group of men who regard everything else to a sidelight to life’s main purpose – catching a big muskellunge.
My wife Marsha, was all for taking a year off, so we decided to sell our Los Angeles home and move to Boulder Junction, Wisconsin, a tiny north woods village that bills itself as the “Musky Capitol of the World.” We had spent vacations there before and loved the countryside, which is nothing but lakes and trees. Our house had increased greatly in value in the few years we owned it and the equity would pay for the year off. After all, figured, we’d been paying for the house for a while; now it was time for it to pay for us. We packed up Lindy, our two year old daughter, and our two dogs and headed for the north woods.
When I announced plans to take a year off from work, I was surprised by how many people said they wished they “had the guts to do that.” They could handle it financially but not psychologically. It seems many people need the security of a job even more than the salary. Thoreau once wrote, “if I schould sell both my forenoons and afternoons to society, there would be nothing left worth living for.” It’s too bad most of us feel we have to sell our forenoons and afternoons for 50 weeks a year just to get by.
But THIS is MY year, it’s not for sale – not the mornings, not the afternoons and most certainly not the period the AP wanted to buy.
I guess I’ve had this itch to catch a monster musky ever since I saw one hanging on the wall of a bar on my first visit to northern Wisconsin about fifteen years ago. (1965).
There’s probably not one bar within 30 miles of Boulder Junction, that doesn’t have at least one mounted musky on the wall.

June 10th

Still cool, low 60s, and a strong north wind kicking up whitecaps for the fourth day in a row. Good day to drift over weedbeds so I’m fishing Wildcat, who’s weeds are coming along real well. Another month and you’ll be able to walk across the surface. The mallard ducklings have hatched. You can see them splashing along behind mom. Cute little devils. Wildcat also has a resident bald eagle and several great blue herons, strange, gawky birds that let out a terrific squawk when disturbed. And then there’s my favorite the loon. They look like king-sized black and white ducks, and they ride low in the water. On a moment’s notice they can dive below the surface and swim 50 yards before reappearing. The haunting cry of the loon captures the spirit of the north woods. It’s like nothing else. Loons generally have only one baby, which frequently rides along on mother’s back.
All these birds are part of musky fishing, It wouldn’t be the same without them. It’s a wilderness feeling. Not that I didn’t see birds when I worked in downtown Los Angeles. I saw lots of birds. Pigeons. They’re city birds, fat and dumpy. They don’t exactly capture the imagination. James Thurber said it best when he noted that “pigeons can be understood only when you understand there is nothing to understand about them.” Hey. A strike! Look at that leap! He cleared the water by at two feet. Boy, that’s something! I love to watch them fly out of the water. He’s not real big, but he’s feisty. Okay, tough guy, let’s get you in here. Yeah you’re ferocious. About 28 inches. I’ve seen a bunch of them like you in this lake. Not hooked to bad either. Okay, fella, see ya later. Tell ‘em the Musky Cowboy was here.

I know what you're thinking, but being that this is a St Croix Big Dawg, the most powerful baitcaster in the world, and would instantly cross your eyes, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well do ya, pike?
GAVIN H
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Re: Time on the water Bill Gardner

Post by GAVIN H »

I,ve read it Bart, good book, been trying to get hold of Muskies on the Shield for years.
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ecko
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Re: Time on the water Bill Gardner

Post by ecko »

It Will turn up eventually, Just keep browsing.
Good Luck
I know what you're thinking, but being that this is a St Croix Big Dawg, the most powerful baitcaster in the world, and would instantly cross your eyes, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well do ya, pike?
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