Easing the boat into the narrow bay, I could sense our fishing success was about to change.
Through five hours of fishing under cloudless skies we had raised only a single, lazy muskie, but now the conditions finally felt right. We had chosen the bay because it faced eastward and was, thus, protected from the stiff northwest breeze that followed the passing of a cold front. All day the thick weeds that lined the back of the bay had been warmed by the sun, and cabbage tops protruded above the surface.
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