Autopilot Works, I Don’t...Walleye Skunk #3!

This morning was kind of a bonus troll. I’m not even sure what to call it. It definitely wasn’t part of a well thought out plan.

Forecast said windy in Brest Bay. The Terrova has been acting like it’s on strike and it just started the job! Christian is out because he has a baby about to show up, which feels like a pretty valid excuse. I didn’t call in any backup. And trolling with two people and no autopilot is basically a full-time job.

Enter Surgeon Jenn…She didn’t just glance at the Terrova manual. She read the entire thing. Installation. Calibration. Bluetooth. All of it. She walks in like a Minn Kota rep and says, “We’re going to Lake Erie. Worst case, we fix the autopilot. Best case, we hammer hogs.” Or hog hammers. We’re still figuring that out. Twist my arm.

Perfect Sunday start. Gym at 4:30am. Rolling south at 6am. Quick stop at the SSP truck stop for a bathroom break and a respectful stare at the duck claw machine. I really need to start carrying dollar bills.

Pull into the launch and it’s maybe a third full. Which immediately tells me the smart fishermen saw the wind forecast and stayed home. The rest of us launched anyway and pretended we didn’t notice the smoke from the stacks blowing sideways.

Our plan was simple. Which usually means it won’t work…Run out to a quiet spot. Sync phone to Terrova. Sync Terrova to the Minn Kota puck. Do two circles to calibrate. Hit autopilot. Drive straight to yesterday’s honey hole. Catch 12 hogs. Be home by noon. Easy.

Phone sync, check. Puck sync, check. Two circle calibration, absolute disaster…No autopilot. Again.

At this point I’m questioning every life decision that led me to buying new electronics. I hate replacing things that work with things that are supposed to work better. This is exactly why.

Wave report said one foot…Wave reality was one, two, and three footers with a little attitude and white caps. We worked with the waves. We worked against the waves. We worked in circles like confused walleyes ourselves. No marks. No bites.

Pulled lines and ran south toward the stacks. Worked north along the shoreline toward the rock wall with a bunch of other boats doing the exact same thing.

No fish. No marks. Witnessed no other fish being caught…no hope. That’s walleye skunk number three in two weeks. We are stacking lumps like it’s our job. We pull back into the launch and I am mentally done. I’m ready to get the boat in the barn, crawl into a fetal position, and suck my thumb for a while.

Jenn says, “Let’s try the calibration again.” Of course she does. I say fine, but with the enthusiasm of a guy who has already tried it 34 times. Menu. Setup. Calibration. Calibrate heading sensor. Start. Wait…what? It’s doing something different. Like…working. We complete the two circles. It logs it. I hit autopilot. The motor head doesn’t spin in circles like it’s possessed. It holds a straight line. Perfectly. Sweet mercy! That was the highlight of the entire trip. No fish, but full confidence restored. I will take that trade every time.

Back at the barn, we at least had a proper walleye meal going from yesterday’s catch. Peas, because apparently, I’m a health guy now. Roasted potatoes, oil free, because we’re leaning into this whole plant-based thing. And panko pan-fried walleye, because balance. If you can’t beat them, eat them. That’s where I’m at right now.

Weekly to do list is also very exciting. Fix my $550 Frabill bibs because apparently, they require modification to function like pants. Cut out the wind blocker so I can actually use the front zipper for its intended purpose. Fix the suspenders so I can actually use them for their intended purpose! Take apart and clean the Fulton winch. Take apart and clean the trailer jack. Basically, become a full-time boat mechanic.

Game plan moving forward. Taking Friday off to fish. Fishing Saturday. Maybe fishing Easter Sunday, which feels slightly aggressive but I’m pretty sure Jesus would understand. He fished, right? Two more weekends of walleye, then the Ludington boat goes in…

…and then…we hammer hogs. Or hog hammers. We’ll figure that out later!