Free Fishing Weekend

The first full weekend in June is Free Fishing Weekend in Wisconsin. For that one weekend each year, State Park entry fees are waived and anyone can fish Wisconsin's inland waters without a fishing license. All other regulations still apply, but this is a chance for people to "try out" fishing without having to buy a license.

The boat launches are mobbed and many of the people have no clue about boat launch etiquette or how to back up a trailer. Once on the water, they remain clueless about common sense things like not anchoring their boat ten feet from another boat that's catching fish because, "That's where the fish are," or things like not motoring through peoples' fishing lines or...

But I digress.

I avoid Free Fishing Weekend like the plague.

Except one time in 1988.

It remains one of the worst fishing experiences I can remember; and I can remember some doozies - like being on a 30 foot vessel in Lake Michigan with 8 to 10 foot waves, piloting a vessel on Lake Michigan during fog so thick that you could see less than 100 feet or being caught in the middle of a lake when a lightning storm popped up out of nowhere!

None of those experiences were nearly as terrifying as my one and only foray into Free Fishing Weekend that first weekend of June, 1988.

Nineteen eighty-eight was the first fishing season of our married life. Diane had not grown up in an "Outdoors" family, so she was clueless about fishing. She decided that we should take her parents fishing on free fishing weekend.

Great idea, right? After all, I had enough gear for everyone.

VERY BAD IDEA!!!!

But I digress again.

I didn't own a boat at the time, so I borrowed Diane's uncle's sixteen foot jonboat. It was a great boat for first-timers because it was extremely wide and stable. I got all of my gear together, picked up the boat, loaded all of the fishing gear and headed off to pick up Diane's parents.

I selected Pine Lake for our outing. It is close by and, at nearly 1,000 acres, has plenty of room for lots of boats. The only problem with Pine Lake at that time was the launch. They had not yet built the beautiful launch and pier they have now. Instead, you had to maneuver from the road to a very small ramp.

There was also no parking available at the launch. You had to launch the boat, tie it off and then drive about 1/2 mile down the road to a parking area and walk back. This wasn't a problem, though, because I had three people who could stay with the boat and get everything stowed while I did he parking run.

I told the rest of the group to get everything out of the car as I tied the boat to a tree out of the way of the launch. I instructed them to load everything into the boat while I was gone so we would be ready to head out when I got back.

Those instructions seemed pretty simple to me. Unfortunately, I took their word that everything was out of the car instead of looking in the back for myself.

I made my way to the parking area, parked the car and happened to glance in the back as I locked the doors. Imagine my surprise when I saw the cooler, the bait bucket and all of the life jackets in the back of my station wagon.

Shame on me for not having looked first.

I gathered all of the "forgotten" equipment and started back for the launch; my frustration growing with each of the thousand-plus steps. Upon arriving at the launch I found the three of them happily sitting in the boat with nothing but the fishing gear I had originally loaded. I suppose they thought load the boat meant they were to board and sit there grinning while waiting for my return.

Well, it was time to fish. I fired up the little Mercury outboard and motored out to our spot on a weed edge that bordered a nice dropoff. This place would certainly hold fish!

I picked up the first rod, rigged it and passed it up to Pop in the bow. Then I grabbed the next rod, rigged it and passed it up to Lola before grabbing a third rod to rig it and hand it to Diane.

Finally I could rig up my rod and fish!!!

No!!! Wait!!! Fish on in the front of the boat!!!

Of course no one else knows how to land a fish, take it off the hook or rebait the hook so the task falls to me. I take a nice perch off the hook, drop it in the basket, rebait the hook and pass the rod back up to the bow. Now I can rig up my rod and fish!!!

Nope!!!

Fish on somewhere else in the boat!!!

The process continues for the entire trip, interrupted only by Pop exclaiming that he has hooked a MONSTER!! Diane in her excitement to tell him what to do - she had never fished, either, so I don't know what she thought she could tell him - jumped up and stepped on my nice baitcasting rod; breaking the tip off.

My day of fishing was over now whether I ever actually had time to fish or not.

I finally got everyone in the boat calmed down enough to land the MONSTER; a whopping 12" northern. Now I will admit that - in my total frustration - I had a momentary lapse in judgment and failed to tell anyone that a 12" northern is not only not a MONSTER, it was also less than one-half the minimum legal length limit for a northern pike at that time.

So I did what I always do with undersized fish; I unhooked it and put it back into the water beside the boat to watch it swim away. What happened next can only be described as akin to the most intense scene in Mutiny On The Bounty. All three of them went nuts that I had just thrown back a MONSTER. I was suddenly very glad that I can swim very well and none of them would probably make it back to shore should I feel the need to abandon ship.

They finally settled down and the trip came to a merciful end. A final check revealed a basket stuffed full of nice perch.

We motored back to the launch where I was spared the long walk back to car with the offer of a ride by someone who was just launching his boat. I, in turn, gave him a ride back. He, of course, did not have to bring virtually all of his gear back with him; having actually unloaded his truck and stowed his gear in the boat before leaving the launch.

We landed boat, got all the gear loaded in the car and made our way back to Diane's parents' house. They all ran inside to talk about the exciting trip as soon as the car came to a stop in the driveway. None of them knew how to clean fish, of course, so I - the one who had not gotten to cast even one time - sat in the driveway filleting a basket full of perch; my "joy" growing with each stroke of the knife.

Pop's hammer handle of a northern grew through the years. He often entertained the boys with his tales of a four foot monster fish that their father had been so jealous of that he threw it back into the water just so there would be no evidence.

Whatever.

My opinion of Free Fishing Weekend was now set in stone.

I have never gone on the water during that weekend again; nor do I ever intend to.