It was late afternoon. The minor was just underway, and that weed line looked juicy. I could feel it. There was a musky down there that would turn my luck around.
The last 36 hours had been a grind. It was August 2017, and I was fishing Lake of the Woods for the first time. Ontario, Canada. Land of plenty. The waters that promised multiple fish a day. Where, no matter what, without a doubt, I would catch a bunch of fish and they'd be bruisers. Or so everyone told me. As my second of 3.5 days in the True North began to fade, I had cast probably 1200 times with just two low follows and exactly zero musky to show for it.Read More