Fish On for Freedom – The Donut Curse, Four Vets, and the Mighty Yeck Chubster

5/30/20254 min read

Big day today in the land of Ludington—it’s the 10th annual Fish on For Freedom, where about 30 local boats donate the morning to take 120 veterans out fishing. It's like the Super Bowl of Doing Good Stuff. I’ve been lucky to volunteer my boat for this five or six times (memory’s fuzzy, but let’s say I’m a veteran of taking veterans fishing).

My dad’s been involved since the very first event, raising money, spreading the word, being awesome. Last year was the first time he couldn’t make it out due to health stuff—which is when, of course, we won the dang thing. This year, as defending champs, the pressure was on. I mean, I love taking people out fishing, but I always feel like I’m two missed bites away from being a terrible host. Like, what if someone paid me to fish and I only caught two? Or zero? I’d have a hard time with that!

Yesterday we had our event meeting and got to meet our assigned vets. My crew was going to be my Uncle David, my dad, and two others. But my dad had to back out again for health reasons (ugh), and then another no-show. Great. I needed two subs. Luckily, Christina (one of the vets assigned to my boat) and her husband David were split up, and Myndi worked some matchmaking magic to reunite them on my boat. Aww. Add Uncle David, and we had a solid trio of vets. But then—plot twist—a fourth vet named Brian showed up without a boat assignment this morning. Myndi stepped in again (seriously, that woman needs a cape), and just like that, we were up to four vets and 18 lines. Let’s goooo.

Now, I’m a big believer in good mojo. So naturally, I started my day with a 2-mile run to the inner pier and back. Thought I was being all inspirational, until I ran headfirst into a strong southwest wind that screamed “Big waves ahead!” But hey, positivity, right? Fishing is fun, I told myself as I staggered back to the condo gasping like I’d done a triathlon.

At 5:35am, the boat was loaded: me, Nick, Uncle David, and the four vets. Shotgun start at 6am. Parade at noon. Shindig at the American Legion afterwards where we get to hoist the big trophy again...Game faces: on. The wind wasn’t as bad and there were no waves, so we stuck with the pack south, where there had been some fish action earlier in the week. We set 17 lines with 19 lures (bonus math) and... nothing. Not a sniff. At one point we thought we had a hit on a leadcore, but it turned out to be our line getting caught on a 25-foot dipsy leader. Rookie move - I hate those things. But hey, I spun it into a teaching moment for the vets—"Here's how you reel in a board when it’s not tangled!” nailed it.

Finally, some action! The ol’ reliable 3-color with the Yeck Chubster fired off, and Christina crushed it—brought in a nice 7-8 lb king. Meanwhile, I was eating a donut when that hog hit. Coincidence? Or the donut curse? That one’s going to the fish gods for review.

We stuck it out in 190-220 FOW with basically zero fish marks and even fewer positive reports from other boats. So we decided to make the move south—like five miles more south. Pulled lines to change water, and what do you know, Brian reeled in the tiniest salmon you’ve ever seen. Like, we should’ve named it and raised it in a fish tank.

We kept grinding. Trolled from Pentwater to Bass Lake, tried 200 to 100 FOW—nothin'. Ran back north and set up west of the crown, trolled toward the harbor—still nothin'. At this point, the fish were clearly avoiding us out of respect for the troops. That’s my story.

We tried all the tricks:

XM Radio: 70s on 7 – nope.
Prime Country – too sad (fish don't like heartbreak ballads).
No Shoes Radio – meh, fish don’t like margaritas either.
Nick drank beer – ineffective.
I ate a second donut – double ineffective.
Brian did a full lap of the boat touching all the rods like a leprechaun casting spells – nada.

But you know what? Still an awesome day. Weather was perfect. Nick was on top of the rods. Uncle David kept the conversation lively. And I got to know three incredible vets better. That’s a win in my book.

Hot Bite of the Day:

3-color leadcore with the Yeck Chubster – brought both fish in. Jackpot - That lure is officially off the bench. Yeck yeah! (now I’m thinking Ged should put “Yeck Yeah!” on the packaging – cheesy sells)

What I Learned Today:

If you’re not marking or catching in 47-degree water from 180-210 FOW, maybe try somewhere ELSE, dipshit!
Just because it’s howling at 4am doesn’t mean it’ll be rough seas – always check the pier heads.
The town of Ludington and the Fish on For Freedom team, especially Myndi, absolutely crush it every year making this event incredible.
Even if you only catch two fish, if you give it your all and make the trip fun, people will still have a good time. I promised the crew I’d work hard, not that I’d fill the cooler. Mission accomplished.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hang up my Yeck Chubster, eat another donut (curse be damned), and take a nap like I just ran the Boston Marathon. For freedom, for fish, and for Brian’s tiny little salmon who tried his best.