Fun & Misery on Lake Michigan
It was pitch black, almost to the point of freezing, and the swells of Lake Michigan beneath me were rising and falling in rapid five-foot-tall secessions. Rain slammed into me at a near sideways angle. I held tight to my seat at the center consol of the wildly bobbing 28-foot boat and silently thanked God that I had remembered to take a handful of motion sickness medication the night before. My misery was interrupted by Big Bite Adventures owner Captain Spenser Samplawski’s call of, “We got a fish on.” I stumbled like a drunk towards the stern and pulled the nine-foot medium trolling rod from its holder. The 20-test line peeled off the spool with a heavy, electrifying high-pitched whine.
"Let ‘em run, then reel ‘em in," the captain instructed.
I did just that. I waited for the line to slack then reeled for all I was worth. Whatever was on the other end of the line was heavy, didn’t like being reeled in, and fought back with another run. I let the unknown do what it was doing then began reeling again when it stopped. I got the fish to the surface of the ink black water just before the boat only to have it run one last time. This last hurrah wasn't nearly as long, and I managed to have the fish on board roughly 10 minutes later. My first Lake Michigan salmon measured just over 32 inches in length and pushed the scales at 14 pounds. The next salmon came just five minutes later and was almost exactly the same size. Some 10 minutes after that I landed a steelhead trout that was almost as long as my salmon but weighed considerably less at just eight pounds. No sooner had that fish come aboard than the rain turned from an annoyance into a threat and after 20 minutes of such the captain said it was time to call it.
The journey back to Bailey’s Harbor, Wisconsin was an absolute roller coaster of six-foot swells, driving rain, and crashing waves. We hit the dock at 8:30 and dry land and far better weather and temperatures could not have come sooner. Despite it only being a four-hour trip, the cold and lake conditions had taken its toll on me. I dropped my fish at the within walking distance Baileys Harbor Fish Company to have my catch cleaned and vacuum sealed. By the time they’d done their job I had 14 pounds of filets.
I headed back to the hotel for a much-needed nap then joined my wife Cheryl, mother-in-law Bonnie, and her man Tom for an afternoon of sightseeing. That night we ventured to the Old Post Office in Ephraim for the pageantry that is a Door County Fish Boil. A favorite of Bonnie’s (and something she couldn’t wait to share with me) the fish boil has its roots in the Norwegians who originally settled the scenic peninsula. These workers would often break from work to throw whitefish, potatoes, and onions in a pot of boiling saltwater then eat them with more salt and butter. Although begun out of necessity and as an economical way to feed large groups of people, boils became a tourist attraction starting in the 1960s. And it is an attraction because the meal is all theater.
The boil I attended began with the Boil Master having everyone gather around a large cauldron sitting upon a massive fire in a courtyard behind the restaurant. He explained the history of the boil then shared that each year he personally boils over 35,000 pounds of fish for tourists. He had his assistants parade a large bucket of fish pieces and parts before the crowd then dramatically dumped it in the pot of boiling potatoes and onions. For some reason this evoked oohh’s and aahh’s from the audience. The Master let these chunks of Lake Michigan’s best roll around for exactly 7 ½ minutes then grabbed a coffee can of kerosene.
“Here’s how you boil the foam off!”
The Boil Master threw the contents of the can at the fire, and it erupted in a ball of flame that not only had the audience oohh and aahh once more but reel back in a sudden shock to the heat. The crowd was allowed to calm themselves then escorted into the main dining room to eat plates of boiled fish and vegetables with salt and butter. Being a Texan that loves spice, this display was hard to swallow but thanks to copious amounts of beer, I cleaned my plate. And although I enjoyed my first boil and Bonnie’s excitement at sharing it with me, I think I’ll grill my salmon and steelhead rather than boil it in water. After all, I’m not Norwegian. I’m a Texan.
This piece first appeared in the Fredericksburg Standard.
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