Friday, September 16, 2005

Still Crazy

I'm addicted to hard water.

The harder the water, the more I like it. It's awful hard to fish in four-foot to six-foot waves with a 19-foot boat, but splashing through the troughs, running over the top sure is fun.

I do not recommend taking a small boat through rough water without boat handling skills and a lot of experience. It can result in a bad day on the water. If you ain't got it, stay at home.

Me, like Waylon Jennings, "I've always been crazy..." Waves as high as your windshield, troughs with blue walls of water waiting to crash down on you. It's my Nature.

My blood rushes faster than the water. My mind races the oncoming waves. The adrenaline pumps give me that rush better than, more natural than, Black Velvet, Mad Dog or Red Bud.

..."But It's kept me from going insane."

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

I Lost the Fight

As the sun rose over Ludington Sunday morning, I knew it would be a great day for Salmon fishing. Even If if I didn't catch any fish, which I did in great quantities.

The sun created a brilliant green, yellow, red rainbow in the west that formed an archway with the red flaring across the sky over the boats fishing deeper water. The dark storm clouds as a background magnified the prism effect.

Mother Mary always advised me to seek the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It may be corny, but I thought that advice could fill my boat with fish. Setting my course to the north end of the arch, I quickly had my first double of the year. A silver seven-pound steelie tripped my lead core and a 17-pound Salmon hit my dipsey almost at the same time in 75 feet of water.

The acrobatic steelhead wound itself around the diver line and the downrigger wire. I was fishing by myself so I had to fight both fish, drive the boat and man the net. But both fish were hooked solid and I brought them in making a huge mess of the lines and the boat. Poles, net and fish were scattered everywhere.

After I untangled and reset lines, I landed a nice 16-pound Salmon on the lead core over 125 feet of water. My first three fish came after the morning bite was supposedly over, according to the anglers hanging onto 50 feet of water.

At 11 a.m., I thought my lead core pole was going to fly out of the rod holder. I grabbed the pole, reefed hard and set in for a 10-round heavyweight fight. With 10 colors out, the Fireline backing was screaming out of the Penn 330 reel. The memory of losing my last monster fish a couple of weeks ago was fresh so I was hesitant about tightening the drag too much.

Then the downrigger tripped signaling another double. I held the butt of the lead core rod under my rib cage and grabbed the rigger pole. I crossed both rods together in my hands at outward angles and tried to form a strategy while the boat was running a wrong course. I backed my butt up against the left curve of the steering wheel and swung the bow to the left by bending my knees.

I put the lead core rod back in the holder and started reeling the second fish. Something did not feel right about that fish. I reeled but it felt more like a log, heavy but no fight. The lead core stopped screaming so I tried to reel that rod still in the holder while hanging on to the downrigger fish. The big one was intent on staying out and made another run.

I tightened the drag a little bit on the big one, let it run and decided to get the other one in or lose it. I suspected a tangle with the cannonball and reeled in the downrigger. Thanks God for electric downriggers. I got the cannonball up and there was my rubberband still hooked to the line and cannonball. I was fighting a fish and a lead weight. A small 11-pound Salmon in the boat.

The big one's run was done and it was sitting way out there. I tried to gain and it tried to stay. I fought the fish from the steering wheel, cranking, holding and steering while watching for other boats. I realized that other boats were crowding to watch the fight.

After a long while, I gained two colors back and it gained two colors back. We went fingers to fins. Then it surfaced six colors out. Jaws. Judas Priest it's a shark. This was 1975 Joe Frazier Muhammed Ali III. Slugout in Ludington. The dance was done. This was an ugly hunt.

Forty minutes into the fight, I got the tired bruiser to the starboard side. I had the pole and the net in the wrong hands and in switching hands the net started falling in the water and the Salmon started thrashing. I slapped at the net handle. It flew up in the air and landed on the deck. The lure with two of the three hooks imbeded in the corner of mouth was a solid hookup. This was a mature male with a hooked snout and large spawning teeth.

I reached down and slipped three fingers into his gills. The fish wiggled weakly out of my weak grasp. It laid on its side gasping for strength. I could see my fingers reaching down reflected in the left eye and then he shook his head sharply once sideways. The leader snapped.

I jumped for the net. He was laying on his side trying to move his fins. The breeze inched the idling boat just out of net reach. He righted himself, sank under the surface and with a slow weak flail headed to a deep sanctuary. I watched his descent on the fish finder. I jumped up and down in the boat. No No No.

I can only estimate the size of the biggest Salmon I have ever hooked. Last year I caught a 26 pounder and this one was at least six to eight inches longer.

I am seeing a pattern develop here. The lure I caught this monster on and the big one that broke me off two weeks ago is a bass lure bought at Walmart for $1.17. On my way home Sunday, I bought six more.