Ludington Fishing Report: The Last 2025 Salmon Troll

As I sit here typing this final Ludington fishing report, I can’t help but get a little misty-eyed. Maybe it’s because we made some sweet memories out here this year…Maybe it’s because I’ve got a mountain of schoolwork due today…Or maybe — and most likely — reviewing my pictures, I see that I forgot to swing the chute rigger in and now have to make another trip back to the boat or it’ll drive me completely insane. Whatever the reason, it’s the end of an era (or at least the end of another summer). So let’s wrap this moe-foe up properly.

Usually I’m pretty good at reverse-engineering my time—you know, figuring out how far back to set the alarm to cram in a run, a shower, breakfast, and a little quiet gratitude before the chaos. Today? Not so much.

Meeting at the boat was 6am. A proper schedule would’ve meant a 4am wake-up. Instead, I rolled out at 4:30am, half-conscious, and only squeezed in 0.92 miles. (I know, because the watch told me so, and it’s judging me.) Not a total waste, but… close.

I got to the boat at 5:50am, and there was THE Logan, already unloading his mysterious tackle bag of wizard-level fish-catching gear. Me and Logan dialed in a 12-line spread, then, THE Nick arrived — side note, I’ve realized I only have two “THE” people in my life, and both made the final trip. Coincidence? Probably not.

And Alison? Nope. Pulled a Parker. Called in “sick” for fishing. Apparently, that’s a thing now.

So there we were — the dream team of three — ready to run a tight, elegant nine-rod spread.

The plan: Stick to the plan. (Which is what we say when we don’t have a better one.) We ran north and set up in 60 FOW, about 1.5 miles south of the bath house. The screen was lit up — bait, hooks, promise, hope. Logan nailed the location, of course. Two riggers, one diver, six leadcore. All killer stuff! And then… nothing. Like, zero. Zilch. The lake just ghosted us. We had the best lure lineup money can buy, plus a few of Logan’s secret “you can’t buy this anywhere” custom jobs. Still nada.

Come on people — you think I’d let the final trip end in a skunk? No way (I’d still be out there!) Eventually, the fish gods woke up, graced us with some mercy, and we boated three absolute hogs — all solid three-year-olds. Three fish. Five bites. Thirty-two pounds total.
I even won my one and only 2025 bet guessing closest to total weight. (Finally, my gambling career pays off.)

We trolled from the bathhouse to north of the point and saw endless marks and followers. They just weren’t biting, at least not metal and plastic…sometimes they just aren’t hungry!

Hot Bites

• Mr. Chrome Bluefin Mag Glow Mini, free slider 80’ down

• Moonshine Orange Hulk RV, 7-color leadcore

• Logan’s No-Name Special, free slider 60’ down

• Stinger Blonde Tangerine, 7-color leadcore

• DW 4” Pearl Zebra, 7-color leadcore

What I Learned

• No matter how much life piles up off the boat, it’s still tough to pull lines that last time. Knowing I won’t see that lighthouse glow again for six months just hits different.

• Alison — hope you feel better! I sent you a couple fancy canned White Russians from the boat fridge to help with recovery. Hopefully Nick didn’t suck them down on the drive home! Didn't learn anything here - just saying!

• You can plan all you want, but sometimes fish are just gonna sit there staring at your $10 spoons like, “meh.”

Feeling super grateful (and a little emotional) for all the time spent on the water this year — the laughs, the sunrises, the Chubster debates, the Soup Club debriefs, the Logan voodoo, and the occasional Wesco sugar crash. Since this is a fishing report and not a mushy “feelings journal,” I’ll stop before I start quoting Taylor Swift lyrics. So that’s it, folks. Signing off from beautiful Ludington, Michigan. Boat’s tucked in, rods are sleeping, and my running shoes are glaring at me. Maybe next time you hear from me, it’ll be a 5K race report — assuming I survive it.