Our captain, “Mr. Dann”, was forewarned by his closest friends about taking out such a group of fishermen.  They were sure he had lost his marbles and was doomed to have a new outlook on how exciting a fishing trip can be.  The crew consisted of “Limpy”, “Peg Leg”, “Red Pop”, and myself.  Our expertise in fishing would soon be questioned, and justly so. We too had questioned Mr. Dann about the misfortunes soon to be, since we also suspected the disasters that were about to happen.  As we boarded the boat, we noticed that the lovely first mate had brought the boat mascot “Killer” on board for self-protection.  She obviously had some sort of premonition of the events to come. 

We made the 5:30pm bridge and the adventure began as Peg Leg leaned on the Vector downrigger switch, well known for their speed, and formed a stainless steel bird’s nest of such proportions that any large eagle would be proud to own it.  Fortunately we had time on the way out the river to untangle the horrific mess.

As lines were finally set, the discussion soon turned to who would be the unlucky one to wind in the first lead core line.  We were all assured by our captian that before the next morning’s outing, these lead core lines would be “hot” and produce most of the fish caught.  With 6 lead core out, we were surely going to have our stamina challanged by taking turns on winding in THE BIG ONE.

It wasn’t long before the captain shouted the proverbial alert: “Fish On!”  While the remainder of the crew was arguing about whose turn it would be, I stepped up to the challenge.  The battle began with the usual encouragement from the others about how to hold the rod and how tight the drag should be, but it was all to no avail.  With the shake of his head, the “monster” was released to attack some other day on some other bait.  We all knew that this was only a hint of the things to come, but the captain was still in complete denial.

Alas, the dipsy diver began shaking and all hands were called to battle.  Limpy, the closest to the rod, lunged quickly and the battle was on.  As soon as it began, it was obvious that this was not the trophy wall hanger we were hoping for, but was just another fish of insignificant size.  Limpy assured us of his fishing skills as the fish was dragged closer to the stern, and with the fish in the net, he made it well known that, at least at this point, he was the only one with a fish in the boat. 

I was the victim of the next dipsy diver, but the fish was determined to continue on its migration North.  And just as if it were pre-planned, the line went limp and once again a resounding “Sh--” broke the evening’s silence.  Upon further inspection, it was discovered that the fish had also taken a liking to the bait and took it with him.  Who would have known that we would be sabotaged by a captain with faulty equipment!  But the night was still young and we would soon get even.

As a couple more fish decided to tease us by releasing our baits from the downriggers, it was brought to our attention by Red Pop that a toast was due.  This always brings good luck….or so we thought. As the homemade bottle of nature’s nectar was passed to the first mate, the mere smell of its impending potency was enough for her to decline.

As discussions continued on how ineffective the “hot” lead core lines had been, the deep downrigger began its dance and Red Pop was up to the calling. As the siege prolonged, the comments began on how big this fish was going to be.  Early estimates began at 15 pounds and soon rocketed to well over 30 pounds.  As the fight continued beyond the 15-minute mark, with the boat at a crawl, the dipsy diver in front of Limpy again went berserk.  Red Pop continued to strain on the soon-to-be 40 pound state record while Limpy boated a nice laker and proceeded to heckle Red Pop on the time he was taking to land his fish.

Red Pop was now showing some signs of strain; he recalled he had just opened a beer and was concerned about it getting warm.  Having the best interest of his crew at heart, the captain resolved the issue by consuming the foamy brew, not even offering a drink to the now-parched fisherman.  Problem solved.

This battle of epic proportions was now into the 30-minute mark and suspicions were starting about the validity of the fish that was still on the line.  Questions were being asked and doubts began to arise.  Was Red Pop showboating, not wanting the next one surely to come on the now infamous lead core, or was the bait still attached to the down rigger?  No, as his visions of grandeur came and went, and the trophy fish for all time was fading, the baits finally surfaced – along with an abundance of extra lead core and various baits not meant to be fished in an entanglement of such proportions.  And the monster was gone!  Truly this was developing into an evening of mis-adventures that we all knew were soon to go down in time as another true “Kodak moment”.

With things finally untangled and the sweat wiped from Red Pop’s brow, and with new refreshment in hand, it was now Peg Leg’s turn. Another battle was on but short lived as the fish came screaming to the boat.  Not wanting it to have any chance of getting away, it was soon hoisted over the gunnel and the laughter became uncontrollable.  The trophy alewife was indeed hooked in the mouth.  Not having a recipe for alewife soup, and with saddened hearts, we released the monster.

The fortunes continued as once again I took to work on a fish that was this time surely hooked.  As I skillfully maneuvered the beast between the other lines and up to the boat, my hopes were burst – along with the balloon that I had caught.  Surely out of the goodness of his heart, the captain kept my trophy.  I don’t know why, but I suspect it will show up stuffed on a plaque with all the details of the fight.

The twilight hour was approaching and things would soon pick up.  At last the long awaited lead core began stripping line, and far, far, FAR out on the horizon a fish of monumental proportions broke the surface, went airborne, and came back down with a splash that we believed would surely cause a tidal wave.  As no one else was up to the task, I was summoned to commence retrieval.  It didn’t take me long to figure out that this was going to be a lengthy battle, so I took a seat on the engine cover. As comments started to abound about how this specific fishing technique had never been seen by the first mate, I assured her that I was in it for the long haul and my determination to put a fish in the box was now a force to be reckoned with.

This too turned out to be a lesson in stamina as we determined that this fish also had been to school on how to make origami with fish line and commenced to entangle two other lead core and the dipsy. While this was happening, and with fish line and baits piling up on the floor, Red Pop took hold of another screamer on the other side of the boat that was headed for the other three lead core left in the water. As the fish criss-crossed at the back of the boat again and again, the poor first mate didn’t know which way to go and Killer was also barking out directions. This was sure to end in another knitting contest!
Before it was over, out of 12 rods once adorning the back of the boat, we were down to four.  Suddenly, one of them popped up and gave Peg Leg and Limpy one more chance to double-team a hit, miss, and reset. By now they where getting quite proficient at the process.

With the back of the boat decorated with multi-colored lead core line, the captain pulled the remaining lines and was headed for the 9:30pm bridge.  By now it was obvious that, with this misfit crew, he was again doomed to failure.  And sure enough, we missed the bridge and had to wait.  But this worked out anyway because it gave the crew time to untangle the lead core. As Peg Leg strung the line over his ears, the first mate could not control herself.  She had never seen an “Old Man’s Knitting Party” before, and the giggles and snickering abounded.  The bridge opened and the captain breathed a sigh of relief.  It was too soon though as my shirtsleeve caught the downrigger switch and created another small, but salvageable bird’s nest.

Finally we were at the dock without further incident.  When we were asked, “How did you do?” (and after the laughter subsided), we decided that we didn’t know if we had 6 or 7 and the betting was on.  The final score tallied 7: 1 Laker, 1 Steelhead, 1 Coho, and 4 nice Kings.  As the captain wished us well, I know he must have had his fingers crossed behind his back as he spoke because, well, “We told you so”. 

This was truly a “Night to Remember”!  Thanks again, Mr. Dann.

Anonymous Fisherman
South Haven 
Michigan Back to South Haven Steelheaders Homepage