The Load-Out

Now the slips are all empty, let the diehards take the stage. The marinas around the county are abandoned. Most boat owners have stored their boats in clean, dry spaces or wrapped them, mummy-like, in protective plastic.  The piers that spent the summer months serving watercraft, have been pulled and are stacked neatly atop the Baileys Harbor breakwater. The loading docks from Sturgeon Bay to Ellison Bay have been removed and ramps blocked. The fish cleaning stations and restrooms have been closed for the winter. Many mornings a thin layer of shell ice forms around the launching ramps, often extending out over the marina waters. We are staring at the harsh reality of a long winter. The open water fishing season is rapidly coming to an end.  

We all know the drill. At home, I have put away the patio furniture and lawn ornaments. The roof gutters have been cleaned out.  The driveway has been marked with orange plastic rods so it can be located when the deep snows come. The snow thrower has been readied for the first storm. I have winterized and stored the lawn mower and various garden implements. However, one vestige of the summer season that refuses to bow to the inevitable is The Maggie Leigh.  That boat remains poised and ready in my garage waiting for one more opportunity to ply the waters of Door County. I am one of a small number of late season angling diehards who refuse to let go of the open water season. 

Musician Jackson Browne wrote a song, The Load-Out, one of my very favorites. In it he muses about the tribulations of being a musician on the road. The long hours of sitting on a bus, the tedium of setting up for the next show and then, all too quickly, the people leave and you have to tear down and pack it up. Browne poignantly croons, “The only time that seems too short, is the time that we get to play”. He pleads with his roadies to let him stay on stage and continue to play his piano, even after the crowds have left. He laments, “But when that last guitar’s been packed away, you know I still wanna play.”  I get it Jackson. After all the other anglers have left, the charter captains have gone back to their real jobs and even the fish seem to have deserted the lake, I still wanna fish. Out of a boat. On open water. 

Late season fishing is not for the faint of heart. It can be cold, obviously, but that is only the beginning of the difficulties facing an angler who wants to get out on the lake this time of year. Launching a boat on an ice and snow covered ramp can be treacherous. On one occasion last season, despite having a four-wheel drive vehicle, I could not get traction to pull the trailer out of the water. It was only with the help of Paul and his truck that we were able to recover the boat. Now I bring a shovel along to clear the ramp. Further, launching a boat without a dock can be problematic and scrambling aboard a rocking boat is no easy task for a septuagenarian with a metal hip. Hips boots and waders come in handy. Once out on the water, you might have to make your way through a layer of ice. The Maggie Leigh occasionally functions as an ice breaker, much like the USCG Cutter Mobile Bay plowing through an ice-covered Green Bay. I recall once balancing on the bow of a boat, periodically dropping and retrieving the anchor to break the ice, as fishing companion Terry slowly eased out toward open water. And don’t get me started on trying to run planer boards while dodging floating ice. The non-angler and perhaps even a few avid piscators might ask, why in the hell would you do that? 

The rewards of late season fishing can be great. Many species of fish, such as smallmouth bass, have a frenetic period of pre-winter feeding. You often tangle with some huge smallies.  Other fish, such as walleyes, northern pike and brown trout are in various stages of pre-spawn activity and are looking to eat. The pike and trout are particular targets for Door County anglers as these fish come into near shore areas. Anglers often make some good catches late in the season casting the marina basins. Another plus is no crowded boat launches. You will pretty much have the lake to yourself. When I head out of Baileys Harbor, the horizon is typically void of boats save for a Hickey Brothers tug or passing bulk carrier. More than anything, simply the opportunity to get out on the water on a crisp, sunlit day ahead of a long deary winter is motivation enough to brave the hazards. 

Our outings so far this season have been, well, let’s say spotty. We have had to pick our days and the winds have been brutal this Fall. Recall, the “Gales of November”. We’ve had several empty trips when all we got was fresh air and a boat ride. We boated up a few smallmouth on the bayside and a couple of late pike on the lake. I missed a two week stretch of fishable weather in late October when I was out of the county. In fact, I was out of the country visiting Qatar, Oman, and the United Arab Emirates. Nice trip, but few angling opportunities. Upon my return, I was anxious to get out on the water. After taking some time to recover from the 16-hour plane flight and a bout with CoVid, Paul and I finally had the opportunity this week to launch The Maggie Leigh bayside to see what was biting. I had been seeing anglers casting for browns lately, so we were hoping we could find some ourselves. We picked a day that was not too horrible weather-wise, the best you can hope for this time of year. It was overcast with a south wind and temperatures in the high thirties. Surprisingly, there was one rig in the parking lot at the Egg Harbor marina. Apparently, we were not the only diehards. 

We set out lines to try to cover a variety of water depths. I put out an array of stick baits and diving lures in a myriad of colors. We were using lead-core trolling lines to get our lures into what we hoped would be the “hot” zone. Once our six lines were set, we hunkered down and waited for some action. We spent almost two hours blankly staring at bobbing planer boards before one shot backwards and started dancing wildly. “Fish On!” Paul and I commenced with our well-practiced routine. I handed the rod over to Paul and engaged the electric trolling motor to keep the boat moving forward. It seemed like a nice fish. Once I detached the planer board from the line, Paul had all he could handle to get the fish to the boat.  Slowly the fish came into view in the crystal-clear water. A large hook-jawed male brown trout came thrashing to the surface. After a couple of passes, I got the landing net under the fish and lifted it into the boat. By the numbers the fish was 30-inches long and about twelve pounds. After a quick picture. Paul released the beast back into the bay, but not before the fish deposited copious amount of white, sticky milt over the floor and seats of the Maggie Leigh. Obviously, this fish was ready to spawn. 

We reset lines and twenty minutes later boated a 28-inch northern. The sun was getting closer to the horizon and with the freshening wind, the cold was starting to seep beneath our weather gear. Our fellow anglers in the only other boat around had packed it in, and we were considering the same. We decided to make some final passes over the deeper part of the bay. We were in about 50FOW when the inside rod bent over and started to throb. I jumped up and attempted to remove the rod from the holder. The rod would not budge. The fish was exerting some much force that the rod seemed locked into the holder. With considerable effort, I finally had the rod in my hand and handed it off to Paul. He agreed, it was a nice fish. I was perched on the transom, net at the ready, when the fish came into view. Another big brown, this time a female. Paul deftly attempted to get the fish to boat side. The fish was well out of range of any attempt to net it, when it started to thrash wildly at the surface and then it was off. We were surely disappointed, as my string of expletives attested. Still, Feeling and seeing that beautiful fish was a thrill.  Upon inspection of the lure the fish had struck, several of the treble hooks were bent over. The fish had won this fight.  

We motored back to the marina, satisfied with our effort. On the ride back home, we considered our next opportunity to get out on the water. The winds would be howling for a few days, but then perhaps there would be a weather window. Another opportunity to fish before our only option would be to drill a hole. We would have to wait it out. The only time that seems too short, is the time that we get to fish.  

So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, Bruce