Polish Bologna

3am wake up, on the road fifteen minutes later towards
Hoosier-town.

With me are my two trusty sidekicks; Travis B. (nickname Rodspeed) and Jake
(nickname Jake the Butt-Snake) - These guys are top notch fish molesters. I've
seen them do shit that would make Rob Zombie vomit. Needless to say I brought a
jizz rag and a new pack of barf bags. So excited!

We loaded the car with cold weather gear, hop-nectar of the gods, and a mess of
polish bologna sammiches.

Wait what? You've never heard of polish bologna? Shit, you are missing out
Holmes. There isn't a swingin' dick in Ill Noise that doesn't know about the
orgasmia that is polish bologna. I mean it's so good it's STUPID good.

Launch the boat aptly named "Molly's Muffins" promptly at 6am after a
small debacle at a roadside eatery concerning the decibel level of our
flatulence. EF that place anyway, it's an artform and totally natural.... or
was that all a dream?

Today's chosen quarry would be the mighty smallmouth bass, Micropterus
dolomieu (micro D). It's a fairly recent addition the the list of popular gamefish in the
cool blue waters of Lake Michigan. A worthy adversary and in water temperatures
barely exceeding 40 degrees, a rather ambitious challenge.

Fortunately for us, our trip would be guided and lead by none-other-than the
Lake Michigan Maestro himself, Capt. Ralph Steiger. Capt. Ralph's reputation
amongst the hordes of fisherman that frequent LM is nothing short of legendary.
Some say he is more a god than man, other's say he is just tall and slightly overweight.
However we all agree the man can fish, and after spending countless hours out
on the water with him, I can say with pleasure that the man knows how to handle
a rod.

This time of the year on lower Lake Michigan is a special one. The water temperatures
are on the rise after winter's thaw, and baitfish are moving into shallow water
in droves looking for spring's bounty of new micro-organism growth. The
gamefish soon follow and what you end up with is a giant orgy of shallow water
fish activity. Even when it's cold out, it's hot.

Bycatch this time of the year is unavoidable. The Smallmouth swim with trout,
salmon, and various other species early in the year in search of the same
forage. We came prepared this time. We would take prisoners this year.
Suffocate some to death, water-board others for interrogational purposes, and
finally molest their slimy corpses post mortem.
Oh yea, break out the finger cots, hemostats, and emersion blenders, it's party
time bitches!

The seas were angry this day. The skipper's Optimax propelled 21 foot Crestliner made
it's way on the wet rollercoaster to our fishing grounds at a timid 35 knots
through capping 3 to 4 foot rollers. My vertabral discs ache in anticipation of
another ride with Ralph next year. Pleasure in pain, that's how I roll... (pinching nipples)

We get to our first spot, and our first casts are all hook-ups. Four guys on
the boat, four rods bendo, and the sun has barely flit the clit of the horizon.
Sadly though we all realize within seconds of tugging at our rods that the
flashes of silver and gold through the milky water below indicate that we are
hooked up to brown trout in the 5 lb. class. Frustration takes hold of
three of us and we purposely over-tax our equipment, blowing our load on three
of the four hooked up fish.

Jake the Butt Snake does not heed our warning though and plays his fish to the
side of the boat for a quick photo and grub to mouth penetration inspection.
Indeed he is aroused by his catch. He takes to cradling it and stroking it's
anal orafice hoping for signs of mutual attraction.





His interogation proves fruitless and the lifeless corpse is dispatched quickly to the depths. We must continue in search of the elusive micro D. "Continue casting! They are here men, they are HERE!" shouts the captain from the bow of the boat. His stance at the bow of our vessel is Captain Morgan-esque, and it gives us the rise needed to head back into battle.


As the morning progressed, more brown trout were hooked, landed, and cast aside. It wasn't until we ventured further into a shipping canal that we hit paydirt.





Our skipper was the first to hook up, and a dandy she was. This one had shoulders and worked him over well, barely avoiding a severed line on the zebra mussel crusted structure below. They are here, and they are hungry.


Rodspeed was the next to hook up.





What his fish lacked in size it made up for in.... well actually it was just small and we barely noticed he caught one, but he was now on the board with our target species.


~ To Be Continued ~

Great story and picts. I hope you kept some browns or coho for dinner.We limited out on coho last thurs. outa St. joe mi.I cooked up some fantastic meals with those fish. Nice job! I'm in the burbs of Chi-town and catch smallmouths and walleyes on the fox river.

Sounds like you live in my area. I'm way out in Oswego, where are you at?


The rest of the report goes like this:


~ We caught more fish, someone farted, I broke a $400 Shimano Cumulis, and then we found out it was me that farted. (brown spot) ~

~ The End ~

Big Ed, I'm over by glen ellyn way. I have done a lot of work out by Aurora, St. charles , ect. Did you have a charter boat take you out fishing in those picts, and if so how much for the trip?

Capt. Ralph Steiger: http://www.captainsteiger.com/


His prices are good.

Thanks.