I grew up in Ohio and spent many summers on Lake Erie, both on and off the water. For me, our get away to Lake Erie was like taking a trip back in time. Even the ride was a nostalgic one with familiar sights set against the musical background of “Classic Vinyl”, all of which contributed to a heady brew of memories of the past. OK, enough of the magical mystery tour.
This was to be a memorable fishing trip since our son and two of his friends were driving over to fish with us. Now, John and I have fished together several times over the years. Matt and I have fished once or twice together and John and Matt have fished together a lot. But this was to be the first time that all three of us would be fishing together!
Since John and I got to town first, we took the 10-mile ride to the marina and checked out the day’s catch. We found out that only one walleye was caught that day and it was off Pelee Island Canada. We knew our chances of getting on walleye were slim since the fish begin their migration to the eastern basin in September. The report wasn’t a shocker.
Saturday morning came early – like 6 a.m. early. The boat was
scheduled to leave at 7:30 a.m., which is earlier than when my dive boats push back from the dock. Of course, any
early morning boat trip anywhere is all about the parking and the pooping. After all, no one wants to do “the walk of shame” on a boat, especially any boat smaller than a cruise ship. OK so you probably can do the math on the importance of early morning wake-up times. We arrived about 5 minutes before departure as the sun was just coming up. We moved our stuff from the car to the boat and pushed off close to “on time”.
We traveled north about 10 miles, just south of the international border (no there aren’t dashed lines on the water). The guys set up their gear (and helped me with mine) to try for walleye, but after no hits we quickly abandoned the hunt for “eyes” and moved the boat and changed the tackle for perch. After we anchored, dropped lines, it wasn’t too long before yours truly caught the first edible fish. The guys may have thought this was luck or a fish suicide, but after I caught a second and then a third in short order, there was a definite shift in the cosmos. First, they wanted to trade places with me and I began my migration around the boat from starboard to stern. Second, the muttering began about tossing me overboard. The captain chimed in and said “at least wait until she fills the cooler”. “Whaaaa”? Ok, it was all pretty humorous, or was it?? I know I made my situation worse by asking them to bait and take fish off!! Oh yeah, all those years of fishing, but I never EVER would handle sticky, smelly, yucky bait or fish. It could be that the only act which saved me from swimming back to Port Clinton was volunteering to make the sandwiches since I was the only one with clean hands. By the end of the trip, we pulled in over 70 fish!! We returned to the dock tired, stinky (except for me!), sporting odd-looking facial tans. It was a good time!!
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