One more cast

Long before fancy electronics, trolling motors, and giant casting decks became part of the picture, my 

grandpa would row me around our favorite lakes in an old aluminum boat. The kind with three bench seats and not much else. An anchor tied to the bow, a small tackle box with a red and white Flap Tail, and a couple old muskie rods.

I’d stand on one of those seats and cast while he worked the oars. We spent hours doing it.

Most days, there wasn’t much to show for it. A follow here, a missed fish there and plenty of casts that disappeared into the water without anything happening at all. But none of that seemed to matter.

I remember watching my grandpa catch a couple muskies when I was young, and that was all it took. Every one of those fish looked enormous. Every strike seemed impossible to forget. He’d always try to hand me the rod but knew deep down that wasn’t the same. I wanted so badly to catch one on my own that I thought about it long after we would get off the water. I’d dream about it, read about it, watch every bit of information I could get my hands on.

The funny thing is, I was hooked before I ever caught one myself.

Eventually it happened. After what felt like forever, a muskie finally ate my lure. I can still remember the excitement and the feeling of holding that fish for the first time.

After that, there was no turning back.

But not every kid gets bitten by the muskie bug that way.

The reality is that muskies can be a tough sell for young anglers. Hours of casting without action can feel like an eternity when you’re 8 years old. Even kids who love fishing can lose interest when the target is the fish of 10,000 casts.

I’ve learned that firsthand with my own kids and my fishing style has changed because of them. They’ve grown up watching muskies. They’ve seen plenty caught over the years. They’ve each caught a couple of their own. They love seeing one in the net. And if you gave them the choice between spending an evening catching fish or spending an evening casting for the possibility of one muskie, they often choose the tougher challenge. But when they’re faced with that choice, it doesn’t surprise me if they choose tight lines instead.

Over the years, as a muskie angler with kids, I’ve learned that there’s a way to do both. While they’re reeling in sunfish or crappies, I’m quietly noting patterns, water temps, weed edges, baitfish schools. So that even as we enjoy family time, I’m always gathering clues. Whether it’s a guide trip, a tournament, or just my next day on the water, I’m always collecting information.

This past weekend we spent a few days on the Cisco Chain. We cast for muskies some. We cast for bass. We caught crappies. We found bluegills. We picked away at perch. Mostly, we chased whatever wanted to bite.

The rods stayed bent and the kids stayed interested.

Meanwhile, I found myself doing what I often seem to do. Watching, looking for clues, and trying to understand why the fish were where they were.

One stretch in particular kept producing. Not a deep mud basin, but a softer bottom area mixed with emerging weeds. The kind of place most people would fish right through without giving it much thought.

The kids didn’t care why the fish were there. They were busy unhooking fish and dropping baits back over the side.

But I noticed the perch were there. The crappies were there. The bluegills were there. Every time we drifted back through, the graph seemed to light up again.

The kids saw fish. I saw a pattern. The first signs of the bug hatch are starting to show up. Not enough for most people to notice yet, but enough that fish are already beginning to shift. As the hatch builds, more baitfish will slide toward those softer bottom areas and eventually out toward the deeper mud. Perch, crappies, bluegills, and everything that feeds on those insects will follow.

And where the groceries go, the muskies usually aren’t far behind.

Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not on every lake. But often enough to pay attention.

There are the little clues anglers collect over time. A degree or two of water temperature. A weed edge that suddenly comes alive. A school of baitfish showing up where it wasn’t the week before. Small observations that don’t seem important until they all start pointing in the same direction.

The best anglers I’ve been around all seem to have one thing in common. They pay attention. They’re gathering information whether they’re casting for muskies, bass, crappies, or just idling across a lake.

The kids think we’re chasing bluegills. And we are but there's more than what they see. The kids are making memories, catching fish, and learning to enjoy being on the water. And every now and then, Dad picks up a piece of information that might help put a muskie in the net a few weeks later. 

Because life is busy, people are busy. We are all limited with the time we have to set aside for our loves and passions. And that’s why, if I can utilize my time accordingly,  I can plan for a future outing while possibly upping the odds when a stiffer rod is in my hands.

The muskie bug will be with me for a long time, and at the end of the day, as long as my kids are still asking for “one more cast.” I feel like I’m balancing our outings correctly. Truth is, I’m thinking the same and I always let them go through the fifth or sixth “last cast” before I remember I’m supposed to be the adult. But maybe that was cast 9,999.

Years from now, they probably won’t remember where every fish came from. They may not remember what lure we were using or exactly how many we caught. Maybe they’ll remember the boat ride back as the sun started dropping behind the trees. Or laughing when somebody caught one more fish after the “last cast.” Most of all, I hope they remember being together. Just like I still remember sitting in an old aluminum boat myself, asking for just one more.  

Maybe that’s why I don’t mind. 

And I wouldn’t want to rewrite that story.