Monster muskie is a Vermilion treasure

I had my article for this week almost completely written when I got a short and simple text from my oldest brother, Bob, on Saturday night. His wife Julie had boated a monster muskie. Exciting, for sure, but better yet, the fish was good enough to win the Fortune Bay Resort Casino muskie tournament on Lake Vermilion. I scrapped my article, realizing their story was better than mine.

Remembering the weather kept me off the water on Saturday, I could only imagine the conditions farther north on Vermilion. The wind and rain and cold would drive hard at their tent Friday night, and prove relentless during the tournament hours Saturday.

I asked Julie about the morning.

Julie: "The day ... dark, cold, rain hit as soon as we launched. All the boats headed out to the gap, their lights blazing the way. The anticipation was building. Once through the gap, the boats dispersed in every direction into the 3- to 4-foot rollers. Out of the entire pack, we had the smallest boat and motor. All other contestants began fishing long before we surfed the waves for what seemed like hours, finally reaching our sweet spot."

"I opened my Baby Beaver box and pull out Mama Beaver. I whisper to her: 'This is it. This is your big day.' I show her the lay of the land, the fall colors of the shoreline, conifers dotted with the bright reds and oranges of scattered maples among the yellows of the birch and aspen. She tells me she is ready. I kiss her on the cheek and she is swimming. I settle back in my chair and let the troll-a-thon begin, feeling Mama Beaver swim through my Shimano TDR trolling rod."

"My husband, Bob, throws out his favorite trolling lure, a Jake, and settles in as well. Bob is a master of boat control in the raging sea of froth. We both envision the monster muskies below, the owners of the depths of the great Lake Vermilion."

Most muskie tournament anglers run massive fiberglass boats with huge outboards. Bob and Julie bounced around in their trusty 16-foot Alumacraft, pushed by a Honda 25-horse. Another side note: Julie refers to Beaver lures. They are baits designed to mimic a swimming beaver. No actual mama or baby beavers were harmed in the making of this story.

I asked Bob about his approach to fishing the tournament.

Bob: "I realized quickly that I couldn't worry about the rest of the field and the fish they might catch. I chose to concentrate on the things I could control. The details that often prove the difference between success and failure. I try to do all the little things right and read the conditions as they change."

"For me, tournament day is no different than any other day. I always take my time on the water seriously and having my best friend and wife Julie in the boat makes each day all the better. Plus, she can fish with the best of the best."

Settled in, covering some ground, Julie recalled the big bite came early.

Julie: "Around 9:29 a.m. my drag began to sing. A song played only by a monster Musky. I knew she was big. I stripped my rod from the down east rod holder and set the hook like I was setting the hook into a slab of concrete. Baby Beaver struck again."

"The head shakes drove my rod hard, my drag continuing its song. The rain pounded our faces and the wind screamed at our backs. Bob positioned us perfectly and readied the net. Then the drag stopped singing. Everything stopped. The fight relented. My heart sank. I reeled as fast as I could. Was she gone? Did she release the Beaver? Bob had sharpened the hooks to perfection. How could this be happening?"

"Then I felt her, the heavyweight. She was still there as I realized she was swimming right at the boat. I cranked on my reel like nobody's business. Bob was standing at the ready. The floor of the boat was clear to land the monster. Then, she dove to the depths. I saw a glimpse of her magnitude. I could no longer control my breathing, nearly hyperventilating."

"The whole world was the moment, the fish. I raised her up and she fought back. The battle repeated itself over and over, each time she showed a little more of herself. Then there she was, in all of her beauty. A monster. We knew she was 50-plus. She glowed in the dark, stained Vermilion waters. She made a few passes near the boat, I held my breath and in an instant, she was ours."

"The experienced hands of my husband reached down and our net swallowed the massive fish. We were so excited to be able to see this giant up close. She was a sight to behold. After measurement and a few quick photos, we released her back to the cold stained waters of her home. With a flip of the tail, she was gone but she left behind a tale to tell."

The Muskie taped out at 50.5 inches.

Later that afternoon, the tournament director announced to the gathered crowd, "The only girl fishing in the tournament caught the winning fish." Bob and Julie, the only husband and wife team in the field, walked away with the top finish. As an added bonus, Bob and Julie's good friends, Kevin and Frank Walsh, came in second with Kevin's 48-inch muskie. It was a great weekend for all four anglers.

I've read about the voyageurs of long ago making the long trek from the shores of Lake Superior inland to the native settlements along the shores of Lake Vermilion. Like modern voyageurs, Bob and Julie made the journey from their Grand Marais home to the waters of Lake Vermilion. Instead of returning with a canoe full of furs, they returned with a Suburban full of wet clothes, a soaked tent, battered equipment, and a great story ... along with a fat check.

Bret Baker is a lifetime resident of Cloquet. He is a proud husband, father, educator and outdoorsman. Bret began guiding fishing trips when he was 16 years old. Today, in his 40s, his passion is to introduce people to the tremendous outdoor adventures our region has to offer.