Everyone loves a surprise. Little did I know two surprises were awaiting me. Friday, I had no idea exactly what I’d be doing Saturday. Around 4 p.m. my phone dinged, Steve Colley asking if I might want to go fishing on Lake Erie.
Well, you can imagine my excitement as I read. Did I want to go? You bet!
After dancing a happy little jig around the kitchen, I calmed down enough to answer his text and settle some details. We’d be leaving at 4:30 a.m., bring sunscreen, drinks, a sandwich and hat.
As I look back over my life, I notice a constantly recurring theme. The majority of my happiest memories involve getting up very early. Trips, vacations, travel, hunting and fishing all demand you crawl out of your ever so comfortable bed in the wee hours of the morning. Unfortunate perhaps, but joy and happiness seem to demand an early rise. Go figure.
I tried and tried to get to bed early, but that didn’t happen. Of course, once in bed, I had trouble falling asleep. So, it was very late when I finally nodded off. At 4 the alarm blared, waking me from a deep slumber. I groaned and grumbled, felt drugged, could barely swing my feet to the floor. Only the thought of fishing kept me moving.
I staggered through the house and dressed, combed my hair and tied my sneakers. By now I was awake, the old familiar feelings of anticipation and adventure coursing through me.
Steve arrived on time, and we were on our way to North East. Driving through the dark we talked excitedly about a wide variety of subjects, in many ways the trip up and back is one of the more enjoyable parts of the day. In fact, we were so busy running our jaws we missed our exit. Wonderful, but we were soon back on track.
It was just light enough to see when we arrived at the launch. Chad Frantz was waiting for us, checking over his Ranger boat and equipment. We quickly stowed our gear, launched and were motoring out onto the gently heaving waters of Lake Erie.
The weather forecast called for one- to two-foot waves, so we automatically figured two- to three-foot waves with an occasional four-footer thrown in to keep you on your toes. We were running dipsy-divers in 70 feet of water.
The Lowrance showed most of the fish were hovering in the 45 to 50-foot depth. We caught three quickly just as the sun came up, but the walleyes were being finicky today and action was slow.
All the other boats were struggling as well, some catching scattered fish in the same depth range we were covering, while others were having some luck in deeper waters, up to 120. We covered it all, but it appeared there were scattered groups of fish hitting sporadically. There was no magic depth, just keep fishing and you caught a walleye every 30 minutes to an hour.
It was getting close to noon when the dipsy behind 150 feet of line went off. When I grabbed the rod, it was immediately apparent this wasn’t a walleye, or if it was, it was a monster. A heavy, unyielding weight bent the pole over deeply and heavy, violent headshakes alternated with short burst of line stripping power. I just held on for several moments until things settled down. I tried to reel, but the drag slipped. The only alternative was to pump the fish in.
I pulled back as hard as I dared without endangering the line and very slowly raised the rod tip three feet. Holding it there momentarily I quickly reeled down and pulled again, straining upward until I gained another three feet. Occasionally the fish shook its head violently and pulled several feet of my hard-won line back out, but slowly I gained line.
My forearm and hand began to tire, but this was a real battle and I relished it. Glancing down at the line counter I saw to my dismay there still remained another 100 feet of line, I was only a third done.
Chad and Steve were grinning at me and seemingly enjoying my efforts. Since this wasn’t a walleye, they had no interest in the fish and were glad I was the one sweating and straining in the heaving boat. They began debating what species it might be. At first, they seemed certain it was a large lake trout. It could be the rare Erie chinook, but the runs weren’t long enough. Then Steve brightened up and thought the possibility existed it was a very large catfish. Really?
I continued the battle until the dipsy popped from the water, a large gray shape jerked and spun behind it, yes it appeared to be a lake trout, but as I worked it in closer, we all saw the wide, flat head of a channel cat.
The monster was over 30-inches long and weighed 15 pounds or more, by far the biggest channel I’d ever caught. A quick picture and over he went. The second of my surprises was, I admit, a little disappointing, but what a battle! I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Thank you, Chad and Steve, it was a wonderful day.
