Although my grandfather had me trolling for muskie on the lakes of Michigan when I was just knee-high to a grasshopper, it never occurred to me that the pursuit of
a record fish was anything I’d ever have the
wherewithal or ability to achieve. I mean,
weren’t world-record fish hooked hundreds
of miles offshore in remote destinations?
I always assumed that this was the case,
because whenever anyone spoke to me of a
world record, visions of a 1,300-pound marlin being reeled in off the back of a 60-foot
Hatteras swam through my head.
There were those elite anglers – and then
there were your average recreational anglers,
like me. The majority of my early angling