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Cinco de Mayo walleye. And the rest of the story.
This fishing adventure started Thursday evening when I shot Steve a text-"Fishing Saturday? 5-10 SW." Within seconds my phone rings and the voice on the other end says "what do you have in mind". Well, we threw around a few options and it was decided ( by Steves wife, Judy ) that we were going to the Detroit River after walleye.
Steve pulled in my driveway right on time, 15 minutes early, and we were off to the Motor City. We launched out of Elizabeth Park and dropped the trolling motor for our first drift about 8 am. We both dropped our jigs and within a minute I hooked up on a 16" walleye. Steve netted it for me and after putting it into the live well I was back on the motor and back fishing. Bamm, another fish on. Again, Steve manned the net and once again, after a deposit in the box, I dropped my jig to the bottom. Bamm. This time Steves look said it all and he sputters "what am I gonna be, your net boy". That made me laugh.
This one was a white bass and he sputters "I not gonna stop fishing to net a #$%*ing white bass." That made me laugh even more. Things evened out in the end with both of us catching our share of a two man limit along with a lot of the dreaded white bass. We put walleye #10 in the box at 10 am and decided to motor over to a cut to throw jigs for some more white bass, catch and release.
They weren't in real thick yet but we still managed to hook up every other cast or so. Most went back in the water but some went into the box. We probably caught north of 70 and kept what we thought was 10 but ended up being 21. When the noon whistle sounded we were finishing up tying the boat down on the trailer and heading for home. A fun and successful day on the water.
This is where the rest of the story comes in.
Just past Williamston, coming west on I 96, I hear something that didn't sound quite right. I checked all my mirrors and everything on the boat and trailer looked normal, I wrote it off to something in the back of the truck blowing around. Bad mistake because a few miles farther along we feel a jolt, hear a bang and a screeching and I look in the mirror in time to see my left trailer racing a Buick down the highway and my axle dragging on the pavement. When we got it over on the shoulder we found the castle nut was still on the spindle but the tire, wheel and hub were gone. These were new bearings in February and were hand packed and I just shot the hubs with grease two weeks ago so I'm not sure how they could blow apart like that but they did.
As we waited for one of Steves relatives to come with a flat bed and haul the boat home, we searched for the wheel. We did find it and it looks like the Buick won, and ran over it to boot. The rim is good but a new tire is ruined. Next we decide to unhook the trailer and pull the truck ahead to give the flatbed room when he got there. When I stepped over the tongue of the trailer, I got the hole in my jeans caught on the jack handle and ripped my pants from knee to ankle. That made Steve laugh. Back in the truck to move it ahead and the battery was dead. At this point I was about ready to blow upAttachment 301088Attachment 301089. Steves snickering didn't help, either. Luckily, I had a battery booster in the truck and was able to get it started and even found out my air conditioning works.
Fast forward a couple of hours and the boat is home in the garage safe and sound, the fish are cleaned and soaking in the fridge and I'm setting in my chair relaxing. The fishing couldn't have been much better but the ride home had room for improvement. Tomorrow I start the repairs on the trailer, hopefully I can get it done before the camp. And every fishing trip has a "rest of the story".
And Baby Isla says "Happy Cinco de Mayo, every one"Attachment 301091
