They are out there, lurking at the bottom, hibernating in the cold icy waters. We had snow last night and into this morning. Temperatures got up to a sweltering 18 degrees and are expected to drop below zero tonight. Just knowing they are there makes me warm and fuzzy.
Walleye. Yes, the fish.
Living here in the Great Lakes means we LIVE for the water. We have the largest freshwater resources in North America and 22 percent of the world's surface fresh water. (Threatened, I might add, by bottled water companies and the desert states out West.)
We all have our favorite places: Salmon fishing in Ludington, on Lake Michigan, Sleeping Bear Dunes just up the coast, Mackinac Island, Lake Superior Provincial Park where you can see 800 year old pictographs painted on the cliff walls by the native inhabitants. There are regattas on Lake Huron, the Soo Locks at Sault Saint Marie between Lake Superior and Lake Huron, crashing waves at Point Presquile in Lake Erie, walking the planks at Cave of the Winds underneath Niagara Falls between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie and, oh, so much more.
We love our lakes.
Those are the big ones. Michigan is dotted by thousands of other smaller lakes. We love those, too.
Our lake is actually a reservoir. It stretches perhaps six miles from the dam to the bridge one town over. There are beautiful inlets all along the reservoir, no wake zones and areas where you can let 'er rip!
Last year I became a boat owner. The 14 foot pontoon is not too big and not too small. An acquaintance won the boat in a divorce, but it sat in her yard for two years without being run. She had to get rid of it and we happily took it off her hands.
On a cold April day we pulled the boat from the snowbank and drove it two hours away. We could not wait for spring to really begin. A couple of weeks later we took the boat out for the first time. I had never owned a boat, or, for that matter, ever really been around one (also, I can't swim). The first trip bordered on disaster. The boat started fine, but sputtered a bit. Not far from shore it started to quit. We made a mad dash for shore and pulled back in.
Getting the boat back on the trailer proved difficult that first time. The front of the pontoon bumped into the back of the trailer and I learned a valuable lesson in physics: You know the one, "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." As the boat moved away from the dock (rapidly, I might add) the rope popped out of my hands and into the water. I looked at it for a moment and then realized that THE BOAT IS FLOATING AWAY! I shrugged my shoulders and jumped in after it.
Let me tell you this, April is not the best month to go for a swim around here. The ice left the waters just a week or two before. A million needles stabbed me and I couldn't breathe. I lunged for the rope and pulled it back towards the trailer. I stood on the dock, stunned and shivering.
After replacing the spark plugs and the gas line connection the boat ran smooth. Every weekend and day off we spent on the water. Many worms met an untimely end. There is still a red and white bobber hanging high in the branches of a tree. (I checked, it's still there.)
Walleye. Yes, the fish.
Living here in the Great Lakes means we LIVE for the water. We have the largest freshwater resources in North America and 22 percent of the world's surface fresh water. (Threatened, I might add, by bottled water companies and the desert states out West.)
We all have our favorite places: Salmon fishing in Ludington, on Lake Michigan, Sleeping Bear Dunes just up the coast, Mackinac Island, Lake Superior Provincial Park where you can see 800 year old pictographs painted on the cliff walls by the native inhabitants. There are regattas on Lake Huron, the Soo Locks at Sault Saint Marie between Lake Superior and Lake Huron, crashing waves at Point Presquile in Lake Erie, walking the planks at Cave of the Winds underneath Niagara Falls between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie and, oh, so much more.
We love our lakes.
Those are the big ones. Michigan is dotted by thousands of other smaller lakes. We love those, too.
Our lake is actually a reservoir. It stretches perhaps six miles from the dam to the bridge one town over. There are beautiful inlets all along the reservoir, no wake zones and areas where you can let 'er rip!
Last year I became a boat owner. The 14 foot pontoon is not too big and not too small. An acquaintance won the boat in a divorce, but it sat in her yard for two years without being run. She had to get rid of it and we happily took it off her hands.
On a cold April day we pulled the boat from the snowbank and drove it two hours away. We could not wait for spring to really begin. A couple of weeks later we took the boat out for the first time. I had never owned a boat, or, for that matter, ever really been around one (also, I can't swim). The first trip bordered on disaster. The boat started fine, but sputtered a bit. Not far from shore it started to quit. We made a mad dash for shore and pulled back in.
Getting the boat back on the trailer proved difficult that first time. The front of the pontoon bumped into the back of the trailer and I learned a valuable lesson in physics: You know the one, "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." As the boat moved away from the dock (rapidly, I might add) the rope popped out of my hands and into the water. I looked at it for a moment and then realized that THE BOAT IS FLOATING AWAY! I shrugged my shoulders and jumped in after it.
Let me tell you this, April is not the best month to go for a swim around here. The ice left the waters just a week or two before. A million needles stabbed me and I couldn't breathe. I lunged for the rope and pulled it back towards the trailer. I stood on the dock, stunned and shivering.
After replacing the spark plugs and the gas line connection the boat ran smooth. Every weekend and day off we spent on the water. Many worms met an untimely end. There is still a red and white bobber hanging high in the branches of a tree. (I checked, it's still there.)
We started to stake out our favorite spots. The cove off the no wake zone, the beach where we lounged for hours swimming and sunning. The inlet by the dam where I caught a huge walleye.
Oh, yes, the walleye.
First of all my lure got mocked as soon as I took it out of the package. The blue silvery minnow-looking thing had been designed for bass, but I liked it anyway. We trolled back and forth at the mouth of the inlet. Then, in a shocking turn of events, I caught something. Moments before I asked what it would feel like to snag a walleye. "Bang! Yank it and hold on!" I was told.
Bang! I held on and my pole bent precariously. But, being inexperienced, I lost the fish under the boat and it snapped the line. Silence. We turned the boat around and headed toward the nearest bait shop to buy another lure. Twenty minutes later we were back on the water, lure wobbling along.
Bang! This time I knew what to do. Yank, reel, pull. REEEEEEL! Don't let it go under the boat. In seconds the walleye appeared at the side of the boat and a mad scramble to get the fish in the boat ensued. After the brief wrestling match, we sat back exhausted: 22 inches, and least 5 pounds. Holy . . .
The rest of the summer we trolled the same waters in hopes of lightening striking twice or rather, three times. No such luck. At the end of August tragedy struck. In the middle of the reservoir the engine quit. We hailed another boat with the sun quickly setting in the west. They towed us in.
As it turns out we had been putting the wrong oil/gas ratio in the tank. A piston seized up, blowing the engine. Depression set in as we went from one repair shop to another with quotes ranging from $1,000 to $1,800 to fix the engine. Then a hot tip came in. We found an older guy who's been working on engines since he was 6 years old. Now in his seventies, he agreed to fix the engine for $300. It's sitting in his garage, hibernating with rest of us.
The reservoir is quiet this time of year. A few ice fishermen are attempting to brave the sub zero temps. It's funny what a simple fish can do to you.
Frankly, I can't wait for the ice to clear. I'm polishing my lures and stocking the boat.
Walleye fever, you know.
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