HOOKEHOOKED

SIX MILE CREEK- NOVA ALASKA GUIDES

PHOTOS BY: GUILLERMO GONZALEZ LOCATION: EASTERN TENNESSEE

My absolute favorite thing to do is chase musky in a kayak. It’s physically and mentally taxing, it’s long hours and tough weather conditions, but it’s my therapy, my me time.

A A few years ago, I was in Kentucky for a Kayak National Bass Fishing Championship, and there was a major – a moon phase – a peak major that lined up with the sunrise, and a low-pressure system was moving in. I love that type of scenario for musky fishing. So, after the tournament I drove about four or five hours to eastern Tennessee to one of my favorite spots to chase musky and take advantage of the conditionconditions. When this particular incident occurred, I was on the Jackson Kayak Fishing Team, and Bridget, a woman on their marketing team, wanted to go musky fishing. She was an angler but had never musky fished. I agreed to take her, but since I was driving from Kentucky, I tasked her with wrangling up a musky net, some long needle-nose pliers, some hooks and hook cutters, and a kayak I could borrow –thatthat wayway I I couldcould fly home to Nebraska without worrying about the gear. When she picked me up, the “musky net” was a glorified trout net. I mean, the thing was like 18 inches in circumference. It wasn’t even going to fit the head of a musky.

I never musky fish without my net because things just…things go wrong. But the conditions were right, and I've been obsessed with these stealthy apex predators since I was a kid and didn't want to miss out. I thought, "You know what? I've hand-landed giant Barracuda by myself down in the Bahamas. What's the worst that could happen?" So, we went. Trout net and all. I knew if we were going to get one, it was going to be within those first two hours of the peak major in the morning. And we did – just like clockwork I ended up hooking into one, and I hand-landed it with perfection. It was incredible.

I got it right by the boat, kept it in the water, and called Bridget over, yelling at her that I had this big fish. I had my hand under the gill plate, fish still in the water. I was like, "I'm going to lift this fish up really fast for a quick picture, get it back in the water, get the hook out, and we'll release her. " But it didn't go that way.

TheThe fishfish threwthrew a a giantgiant headhead shashake, and somehow one of the barbs on the back treble lodged into my left ring finger well past the barb into the bone, right in the knuckle. I must have reached over to try to instinctively pull it out, and the fish shook again. Then another barb on that same back treble lodged into my right index finger. Suddenly both my hands were bound to this thrashing, 47-inch fish in my kayak. Pain was shooting up both my arms, bearing those hooks deeper and deeper. And, oh my God, I was just screaming in pain.

But I knew I had to try to stay calm and not let my emotions dictate my disposition because that creates a lot of room for error.

ShouldShould we have gone to the hospital? Probably. But I don’t do hospitals. I ripped off a piece of my shirt and wrapped the wound tight. It bled pretty good, but after a few hours I was able to fish.