Hog Versus Hammer?

Before we get into today’s fishing report, we’ve got a couple housekeeping items that need to be addressed so the fishing police don’t come knocking.

First off, I need to formally retract a statement from last weekend where I boldly claimed the invention of the early spring Sterling State Park troll. You know, the highly scientific program where we intercept roughly six million walleyes before they even sniff the Detroit River. Turns out we had a blog reader chime in. Ryan Goff. Ryan politely informed me he has been doing that exact troll for about 30 years. Which means Ryan started it around 1996 and I officially ruined it for him in 2015 when I let the Jeff’s Tackle guy take glamour shots of my livewell and blast them across the internet. So Ryan, if you’re reading this, I sincerely apologize for blowing up your spot roughly nineteen years late. That one’s on me.

Second housekeeping item is more of a cultural discussion. I have always been partial to the word “hog” when describing a big fish. This goes way back to 1982 Jimmy Houston Outdoors. That man could call a 4 pound bass a hog and make it sound like you just landed a state record. It stuck with me. Now young Logan, fresh off some saltwater adventures, is trying to bring a new term to Ludington. Apparently, out there in the salt, they call big fish “hammers.” He is very serious about this. Like marketing plan serious. Brand rollout serious. So we’ve been workshopping it:

• We’re hog hunting today versus we’re hammer hunting today.

• We went 12 for 16 with a couple hogs versus we went 12 for 16 with a couple hammers.

I’ll be honest. I am struggling with the transition. Hog feels Midwest. Hammer feels like we should be wearing flip flops and fighting tarpon while someone grills shrimp nearby.

There was also discussion about fully committing to the theme. Like playing “Hammer Time” during a big fish fight. Which I will admit has some potential. Picture it. Rod doubled. Reel screaming. Net man panicking. And suddenly MC Hammer is blasting across Lake Michigan. That might actually improve our landing percentage.

Maybe Logan can take this a step further and float the idea of a Dreamweaver Logan Meat Rig series called “Hammer Time.” I wish I was kidding. I am not.

So for now we are in a transitional period. Hog is still the official language. Hammer is in beta testing. Results are inconclusive. More field research required.

Alright. Housekeeping complete. Let’s go fishing.

Stopped at the truck stop at the SSP exit and immediately spotted a duck claw game. That’s important information. Two problems though. One, it did not look like a guaranteed winner. Two, we had hammers, or hogs depending on what side of the fence you’re on, waiting for us. Priorities had to be set.

We planned the same time program as last weekend, but somehow it felt like the sun came up fifteen minutes earlier. I don’t know if that’s science or just poor planning, but it felt like we were late before we even got the boat wet.

Pulled into the launch around 7:30am. Not a long line, but a lot of boats. I’d call it half full. When we came off the water around 1:30pm it looked like about 85 percent full, so clearly everyone else figured something out we didn’t.

Original plan was to run my classic rock wall start after doing our usual light bottom bouncing exit from the launch. But we decided to follow Christian’s buddy’s intel from the day before. Head towards the point. Set up short in 16 to 18 feet of water. Sounds smart.

I start the spread: Two P10s. Two number nine Flicker Shads. Four Bandits. Textbook. Nothing.

Meanwhile I’ve got a brand new Minn Kota Terrova that is absolutely not doing what it’s supposed to do. At 9:00am we pull lines in a blistering three minutes and forty seconds and try to calibrate it. No luck. So now I’m running manual steering all morning like it’s 2004. Read the manual, Jeff. Surgeon Jenn is now reading it and casually finding features we didn’t even know existed. Apparently the new version is not plug and play. It’s plug, read, think, and maybe cry a little.

While we’re messing with the motor, a boat within yelling distance nets a fish and says they just got three right there. They are fired up. Naturally, we decide we do not want to catch fish and leave.

Head north outside of Brest Bay. Genius move.

We set lines and immediately the wind kicks up and makes boat control a full-time job. We grind our way back toward Stoney Point and slide into the bay where I’m pretty sure I counted 567 boats all fishing the exact same stretch.

Now we’re basically salmon fishing at the pier heads. Tight quarters. Boards everywhere. We had to pull a rod off each side just to fit in. Dodging boats. Watching boards. Trying not to become a YouTube video. Then finally a board goes back. Finally!

Clear plastic bag…No high fives.

At this point I am not having fun. Manual steering. Wind. Boat traffic. Trash fishing. Great combo.

Then another board goes and we finally put a 2026 walleye in the boat. Yes. A hammer. Or a hog. Jury is still out.

From there it turned into full on dodge-em boats the rest of the morning. But we had a couple bright spots.

First, Jenn got her first walleye. Huge moment. Then shortly after she got her first musky. Which I’m pretty sure was not part of the original game plan but we’ll take it.

Second, we finally found a little pocket and got a mini flurry. Six bites in about the last hour. And yes, for those paying attention, it was basically the same area we left earlier. Of course it was.

We ended up 5 for 8 on walleye and one bonus musky. Every single bite came on Bandits, all 25 feet back. Nice and simple.

If we can figure out this trolling motor situation, we’ll be back at it tomorrow.

PS: David Munson finally delivered my birthday present from September. Four plastic dragonflies with a money back guarantee that they keep black flies off the boat. I don’t know how that works, but if we go out tomorrow, they’re getting deployed. Science experiment time.