Fishing

Standing in the back of the beautiful Viking 52, I was surrounded by fishing poles, each in it’s own fixture waiting to be mounted with a lure. On the shelf over cabinets and drawers against the cabin wall were tackle boxes full of different lures, fly’s, paddles, and something called a dipsy. Robin was busy deciding which lure should go with which rod on which fixture - outrigger, down rigger, or just a long line in the mount. I was glad to be watching and staying out of the way, half hoping he wouldn’t notice me and the lost look on my face.

Robin and Jackie have been fishing Lake Michigan for years, whenever Robin wasn't busy as an orthopedic surgeon or a warbird pilot. They invited Bonnie and me to join them and the Browns (Curt being the race pilot in Robin's Hawker Sea Fury "Sawbones") for a weekend of big lake fishing. Real guys are expected to fish, hunt, and play golf. At least that’s a perception I have. So I’m not a real guy, because I never really did any of the three growing up. Specific to fishing, I like to tell the story of how, early in my sailing career as mate on my fathers sailboat, I wanted to fish while sailing. I immediately put a hook in the sail on one of my first casts. That was the end of any thought of allowing a fishing rod on board, or of any enthusiasm for the sport - certainly on the part of my father.

3M held fishing tournaments at their Wonewok conference center where I entertained 3M customers. Now THAT was fishing. Two or three of us on a boat with a professional fisherman that baited our line and told us exactly where to throw the hook. All we had to do was recognize when a fish hit, and reel it in. The thrill of victory without the agony of defeat, and without needing to have a clue of what I was doing.

It felt similar on Robin's boat. He decided which rods to place where and with what bait. All I had to to was let line out to a prescribed length and depth. After that - just to wait for a fish to hit. And wait. And wait. And wait. The fish didn't come. Instead, we were introduced to Fishhook Fleas. Yep, you read that right. They are an invasive crustacean zooplankton that came into the Great Lakes in the hulls of visiting freighters from Eurasia. They were  wrapped around fishing line that had a vertical orientation in the water, looking like wet cotton. In actuality, the very hard to remove lengths of goo were comprised of tens or hundreds of these very tiny creatures that seemed to come from some aquatic nightmare. Other than the fact that they discourage fish by their smell, and that fish found them quite inedible, they had no real natural predator and competed with small fish for food supply by consuming smaller plankton. But for me they're just plain ugly. Local charter fisherman, we learned later, have been complaining about them all season, as they've put a real crimp in the ease and success of their excursions.

The Fishhook Flea - About 1 cm long

As we were bringing all of our lines into the boat just before heading back into port, I caught the only fish of the day. Well, to say I caught it would be a gross exaggeration. It was more that we dragged it. Too light to trip the release, the small rainbow trout must have been flopping around at the end of the line for who knows how long. My contribution to the day was not the catch, but rather the release - in time for it to swim away, perhaps a bit dizzy.

Catch of the Day

The second day was much the same. Lot's of rigging of out and down riggers, lot's of unwinding of lines, and lot's of... waiting. Except this time we went twenty miles out into the lake, into deep water. That meant less interference from the water fleas. But Lake Michigan would not give up her salmon, which is really what we were after. Finally, late in the afternoon, a six pound rainbow trout hit a long line. Since I had "caught" a fish the day before, Bonnie was scheduled to bring in any new catch. She hustled down the ladder from the helm where she had been chatting with the ladies and immediately handed the rod from Robin to Curt. She really didn't want to have anything to do with a slimy fish, so Curt brought it in, and I netted it. Real teamwork. All for one fish.

The Crew

But I learned a lot, and really enjoyed the company. As did Bonnie, who spent most of the time chatting. I'd do it again any time just to be out on the water, with or without the fish.