Morning fog enveloped the lake as we looked down on it from the cabin’s window. Along the shoreline, gold and crimson leaves faded into the mist. The thermometer on the deck read 40 degrees.
Yesterday we’d fished in shorts and T-shirts, but this morning we’d be pulling on all the clothes we’d brought along. A cold front had hit like a sledgehammer, but in our minds conditions couldn’t have been better. Early fall – what some fishermen refer to as the preturnover period – is my favorite time for muskies.
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