Heiting spreads a love for fishing, muskies
ARBOR VITAE - To the west, white pines towered majestically above an undeveloped tract of green space on the shore of Big Arbor Vitae Lake.
Overhead a trio of bald eagles pirouetted on the blue-and-white canvas.
Here in the middle of the lake a common loon swam past as 1-foot waves lapped against our floating outpost.
A soft north breeze, which overnight pushed out 90 degree heat and stifling humidity, added to the Chamber of Commerce scene.
Steve Heiting of Minocqua took it all in and smiled. The view from his fishing boat made it easy to understand why he'd chosen the Wisconsin North Woods to live and work.
"I never for a minute forget how fortunate I am," said Heiting, 60. "And who I have to thank for setting me on this path."
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Heiting grew up in West Bend and, like most Wisconsin kids, loved to mess around outdoors.
He credits his parents, Raymond and Mary Heiting, as well as his grandparents Bernard and Amanda Heiting, for encouraging him to take up fishing.
Some of his first angling outings were with his father at Pick's Lake, now known as Ridge Run Park, in West Bend.
Like a scene from the title sequence of the Andy Griffith Show, Heiting said he and his father, who also was a police officer, walked hand-in-hand like Andy and Opie to a secret spot.
The Heitings used cane poles to catch bluegills.
"They probably weren't as big as I remember, but we brought them home and ate them," Steve Heiting said. "I remember being proud because I helped feed our family."
Later his grandparents would take Heiting to their cabin on Little Rice Lake near Crandon in Forest County. There the younger Heiting would catch northern pike and black crappies.
The die was being cast.
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After high school Heiting attended UW-Stevens Point, where he played football and earned a bachelor of science degree in communication with an emphasis on print journalism.
College degree in hand, he took a job at the Ashland Daily Press, where his roles included night editor and sports editor. Along the way he produced an outdoors page for the paper, and worked as a part-time fishing guide.
His talents got noticed by Krause Publications and Heiting was hired away, eventually becoming editor of Wisconsin Outdoor Journal, arguably the finest outdoors periodical ever produced in the state.
Steve Heiting of Minocqua casts while musky fishing in Vilas County.
In 1996 he made another move, this time to Musky Hunter magazine, headquartered in St. Germain. Heiting has served as managing editor of the publication ever since.
Along the way, he's authored three books and, with partner Jim Saric, established the University of Esox, a series of musky fishing schools and seminars.
Heiting said he's never going to be confused with famous anglers Al Lindner or Joe Bucher. But he enjoys teaching fishing to others and hopes he can serve as a sort of ambassador for the sport.
In the last couple of years, he's also started contributing free-lance pieces to the bi-weekly publication Wisconsin Outdoor News.
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Heiting and I, it turns out, have more than a few things in common.
In addition to being Wisconsin kids who grew up to earn a living in journalism, we both lost our fathers in April.
Raymond Heiting of Plymouth died April 10; he was 83. My dad, Andrew Smith of Mount Pleasant, died April 23 at age 91.
Although I've been a fan of Heiting's work for several decades and we'd talked on the phone, we had never met in person until July.
We decided this would be the summer to get together and get out on the water.
Time, as we'd been reminded this year, waits for no man.
I left it to Heiting to pick the water and the type of fishing. I wasn't surprised when, after we launched July 19 on Big Arbor Vitae, he pulled out boxes of 6- to 8-inch long bucktails, crankbaits, glide baits and soft plastics.
Yes, we'd be targeting muskellunge, the state fish.
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Big Arbor Vitae covers 1,070 acres, has good populations of muskies, largemouth bass and black crappies and retains some of its natural beauty due to portions of its shore adjoining the Northern Highlands-American Legion State Forest.
Although the change in the weather ushered in comfortable temperatures, it came in the form of a cold front.
Heiting knew it didn't improve our odds of landing the "fish of 10,000 casts," but he didn't blanch from the challenge, either.
"I've learned that it's possible, even in the worst conditions," Heiting said. "If you focus and keep after it you'll often be pleasantly surprised."
Heiting said he's had some great teachers in the world of musky fishing, including Saric and Bucher, the longtime guide, lure designer and television show host from Eagle River.
Also, Heiting said when he was writing his book "Musky Mastery: The Techniques of Top Guides," it served as "a sort of apprenticeship."
Over a lifetime of fishing his respect for muskies has only continued to grow.
"They are the top predator," Heiting said. "Nothing against any other fish. But when you catch the biggest fish in the lake, it's special."
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As the sun rose into the sky over Big Arbor Vitae, Heiting ran his electric trolling motor from the stern while I cast from the bow.
We mostly fished deep weed edges. The outing served as a clinic for me. If anyone thinks some anglers are just luckier than others, they need to see a pro such as Heiting in action.
Heiting switched lures on our rods every 45 minutes or so, looking for a type or color that might be the key on this day. Due to the post-frontal conditions, he generally selected smaller sizes and slower actions.
About 10 a.m. I had an 18-inch largemouth engulf a spinner as I did a figure 8 at boatside.
But we hadn't seen a musky. Heiting kept after it. A close follower of moon phases, he said there was a major peak of activity at 12:11 p.m. and we wouldn't be taking a break until at least an hour after that.
About 11:30 he set up a pass along the northwestern edge of a weed-covered bar. We cast our lures onto the side where the wind and waves pushed into the structure.
The bar topped out at about 4 feet beneath the surface; water on one side dropped to about 30, on the other to about 15.
If we got weeds on our lures, Heiting maneuvered the boat a touch deeper. And we both kept casting.
At 11:50 the crankbait I was tossing stopped after about five cranks on the retrieve. I set the hook and was answered with a live, heavy resistance. "Fish!" I called out.
Heiting calmly reeled his lure in, grabbed the landing net and stood at my shoulder.
After 30 seconds, it became clear we had connected with the target species. A musky, big and beautiful, came to the surface and bulldogged around the bow.
After a couple of left and right runs, it came into the waiting net. Heiting estimated it at 39 inches in length and said it looked to be a naturally-reproduced fish.
Heiting then demonstrated how to handle a fish you intend to release to fight another day: he let the fish stay submerged in the net while he used a long-nosed pliers to remove the hook, then donned gloves before he briefly lifted the fish out for a photo, then returned it to the water.
Seconds later, the net was inverted and the musky was free.
It stayed briefly at the surface, then pointed its nose down and, with a flip of its tail, disappeared.
"I almost had tears in my eyes when you caught that fish," Heiting said. "That just added awesome sauce to our day."
In an April tribute to his father, Heiting said fishing was the greatest pastime for mankind.
"It teaches us about patience, humility and perseverance," he wrote. "Usually we fish with relatives or close friends, so it also teaches us about love and helps us make memories."
I certainly won't forget the day anytime soon.
"My dad, my grandfather and others helped me learn to love fishing," Heiting said. "I'm so thankful for that. I'm going to keep paying it forward for as long as I can."