Wily, Toothy Adversary Lurks Deep in Buffalo Harbor

<url url="[Permission to view this media is denied]
ref=sports&oref=slogin&oref=slogin"><link_text text="[Permission to view this media is denied] … ref=slogin">[Permission to view this media is denied]
ref=sports&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

By MATT HIGGINS Published: November 28, 2006

BUFFALO — Before sunrise on a cold Saturday, Marc Arena, his fishing partner Rod Ballard and a half-dozen other anglers launched their boats onto Lake Erie. Wearing wool caps and bundled in thick parkas and overalls, they would spend the day trolling Buffalo Harbor and its network of shipping channels, gliding past abandoned grain elevators and a decaying steel plant.

The absinthe-colored waters here offered good conditions for catching muskellunge, or muskie, the largest freshwater game fish in New York. Now can be an especially good time to land the really big ones — fish of 50 inches or longer — as they forage for smelt and gizzard shad before muskie season ends Nov. 30.

“November is the best month to get big trophies,” said Jon MacSwan, a founder of the Niagara Muskie Association, a 200-member group based in the Buffalo area.

Muskies, most often ranging in length from 3 to 4½ feet, can be found throughout the Great Lakes, St. Lawrence River and other large lakes and rivers throughout the Northeast, Midwest and into upper Canada.

Because of their size, and an orthodontist’s nightmare of jagged teeth, muskies are at the top of the freshwater food chain, even preying on muskrats and ducks.

Unconfirmed stories abound of them attacking dogs and swimmers, too.

“I think it’s the ferocity of the fish,” Arena said. “It’s the most feared predator.”

While fishing on a 210-acre lake in upstate New York eight years ago, Arena was reeling in a 10-inch bass when a muskie snatched it from his line.

“It was like a lightning bolt,” he said.

For all the fish stories, however, muskies are famously difficult to catch.

Arena, a high school math teacher, calculated that it took him about 12 hours to catch one, a respectable rate. He has averaged one muskie of 50 inches or longer for the past six years.

“There are guys that are still in pursuit of the 50-inch mark, after many years of trying,” Arena said. “It can really humble a man.”

Success, he said, comes down to time and travel. “There are two kinds of muskie fishermen: those who make the pursuit part of their lifestyle and those that enjoy it at a more local level,” he said.

Arena falls into the first category, having traveled to eight states and two Canadian provinces in pursuit of the fish. He and Ballard were a team for two seasons on the muskie pro tour. And so far in 2006, Arena has spent roughly 60 days and 500 hours fishing for muskies.

His obsession began eight years ago when he caught his first by accident. He was casting for crappie on a lake in central New York, and a 37-inch muskie struck his one-inch lure. “The jig hooked perfectly in its beak,” he said.

Arena was hooked himself. “The coolness of the fish…” he said wistfully.

On this Saturday morning in Buffalo Harbor, the fish finder on Ballard’s 18-foot boat showed pods of baitfish about 30 feet down. He scanned for small groups, which suggested a predator had startled them.

Using an 80-pound braided test line, Arena and Ballard set their 15-inch Hi-Fin Trophy Diver lures, with treble hooks, near the bottom.

In unfamiliar waters, Arena and Ballard consult hydrographic charts for bottom features where muskies lurk to feed. But they know the best spots in the harbor, like the corner of a rusty retaining wall, from years of experience.

“The thrill is really in the hunt,” Arena said. “It’s in preparing for the hunt. What type of structure might they be using in this type of lake? It’s more of a mental thing.”

Less than a minute after setting his line, as Ballard steered the boat through a turn, Arena’s reel clicked and the drag screamed. Snatching the rod, Arena quickly reeled in an 43-inch, 20-pound fish.

“That was the fastest I ever caught a muskie,” he said.

But he remained unimpressed with its size. “Fifty inches is the benchmark,” he said.

The limit for muskie on Lake Erie is 54 inches. Arena’s largest was 52 inches, caught Nov. 16, 2001. And Ballard caught his largest, 52½ inches, earlier this month in the St. Lawrence River.

Both said that no matter the size, they would settle for a photograph and then release the fish.

“I could have a six-foot muskie,” Arena said. “I would let it go. You develop a level of respect for the fish.”

Ballard had called the early-morning catch karma, but despite trolling for seven hours, there were no others.

As the day wore on, the sun struggled with the clouds and the air filled with the acrid odor from the coke ovens at the steel plant, but no fish bit.

Afterward, Arena sounded philosophical as he considered the time he had dedicated to catching muskies.

“One fish in the boat is a good day, even if it’s not a trophy,” he said. “The catches are so few and far between, every interaction you have with the fish is special.”