The Midnight Musky Blues

I'm up like it was the night before Christmas and I was ten.

I've found a few fish that haunt me like Musky.   Roosters are a different game  and so are Permit.  Silvers on a Dry fly are similar but have much larger numbers in migration compared to resident toothy Musky.  If you look at the most recent publication of  Fly Fisherman you can sneak a peak at some images captured with my amigos: Lucky and Bardly.  Musky Tribesmen setting the bar both Lucky and Brad are the core and heart of Musky angling.  It's the heart that seems to comes back to me over and over.  I don't know what I would do if I didn't fish.  I do know one thing it has to do with with my heart.

Tomorrow I fish for Musky with a friend and a friend.  Mark, my fellow angler I have known since I was young.  We have been friends for a long time.  I have spent many days with Mark on the water.  I'm a lucky guy for each one of them.

Our Oarsmen, Lucky, is a fisherman with a golden soul.   l love the work coming from FeltSoul Media, the vibe they give off reminds me of Lucky.  He's just that kind of fishy-dood.  Lives his life one fin at at time, smiling every day in-between.


Good people, our tribe of SID,  these are just a couple.  I'm thankful for my fishing buddies.  Thankful tomorrow, I may have a rare chance to connect with the fish that eludes so many, a giant Midwestern Musky.  If not, well, guess what: It's  a day on the water with guys who know SID.