Ludington Fishing Report: Cowboy Boots, Cleanses & Chubster Panic Buying

10/12/20253 min read

It’s a late night in Ludington, and I’m typing up the second-to-last blog of the 2025 salmon season. You can almost feel the lake starting to sigh with me. Let’s just say today could’ve been better…could’ve been worse.

Last we left off, I was heading to the Helz funeral—a sad Sunday all around. This week kicked off with a three-day water fast to purge all the Wesco donuts that have been weighing me down (literally and spiritually). From here on out: no more donuts. If that means fewer fish, so be it. Feeling lighter and self-righteous, I recommitted to the WFPBD life. Dropped my lab, “Dipsy,” at Delaney’s place in Allendale, then met Surgeon Jenn for dinner at Los Amigos in Muskegon. Solid meal—though it’s no El Rancho. And no, I didn’t even check for toothpicks. Growth, people.

This morning I whipped up a batch of soup for Soup Club (priorities), then swung by Chuck’s for some “schoolwork procrastination.” Walked out with the very last Chubster on the rack. Didn’t need it. Had no plan to buy it. But when you see the last of a legend, panic sets in. What if Ged stops making them?! I had no choice.

It wouldn’t be a Ludington fishing weekend without questionable weather. The plan was me, Logan, Petunia Josh, and Zac. The forecast looked ugly, so we called an audible: afternoon troll. Logan bowed out—smart move, the guy has an internal fish mojo radar that’s freakishly accurate. That left me, PJ, and Zac.

We shoved off the dock at 3:15 p.m., right as Zac crushed his last smoke. Then I noticed the boots. Cowboy boots. Genuine leather. In a Tiara. Boots = bad mojo. Bananas are at least funny. Cowboy boots can literally scar fiberglass. I gave him the look. Zac sighed, kicked them off, and fished in socks. First, though, he had to figure out how to buy a fishing license on his phone. It was…a process.

Mark, start here: With zero reports to go on, I pointed north toward the bank near the blinky nets. Ran three riggers, two divers, and four long lines. The current and temps were doing their best impression of a roller coaster. The break started around 80 feet, floated up to 20, and seemed to change directions every ten minutes. No heavy marks, but enough to keep hope alive.

It took forever for the first bite, but then—boom—good old Chubster lit up. Take that, Logan! You might remember, he once suggested a Chubster vs. Mini Yeah Mon contest. (Spoiler: Chubster always wins.) To be fair, Mini Yeah Mon did score a bite today, so it’s 1-1.

We worked out to 170 FOW, then back into 100 on a south troll and ended with five bites, two kings in the box, and three misses. PJ didn’t miss a single one—dude’s getting his doctorate in fish fighting.

Hot Bites:

Yeck Chubster, 3-color leadcore
Mini Yeah Mon, 3-color leadcore
Moonshine Orange Hulk RV, 10-color leadcore
Mr. Chrome Bluefin Mag Glow Mini, free slider 71’ down
Moonshine Half Moon Mini Green Blue Flounder, 71’ down on rigger

What I Learned Today:

Josh = MVP. The guy touched everything right—lines, rods, net work. Total pro. Pleasure fishing with you this year, buddy.
Zac… man. I saw it coming with the boots. I was half-joking about people not getting invited back next year, but after watching him crack beers mid-troll and not pick up on the “no drunks on deck” hint, let’s just say…we’ll see.
Afternoon trolling still stinks, but when sunsets at 7:10pm and sunrise isn’t till 7:55am, it’s a little less painful.
Marked a ton of fish in 55 FOW when pulling lines—Logan’s already declared that tomorrow’s starting point. (Because of course he did.)
Red sky at night = sailor’s delight. And holy crap, that sky looked like it was on fire.

Hitting the hay soon. Need to run tomorrow morning—still trying to crack that sub-30-minute 5K and the real 5k is exactly 2 weeks away. Then it’s showtime at 6 a.m. with the final-crew lineup: Logan, Alison, and Nick. After that? Boat cleanup, homework, and the post-season identity crisis. The end is near, my friends. One more sunrise, one more troll, one more Chubster victory.