As far as Wisconsin springs go, the 2025 season, particularly on the east side of the state, was a non-event. Persistent, cold, northeasterly winds were the rule. To the point where most of us with good intentions, like early-season plans to fish Lake Michigan or Green Bay, ended up keeping our boats on the trailer.

Oh, there was the odd day here and there when you could’ve gotten out. But it was like I was cursed. Whenever it was good to go, I had another commitment. Go figure!

But finally, I could see it coming—a break in the dismal weather pattern for a couple days in mid-May. So, with only light winds predicted, fishing buddy Joe and I headed up to the Bay on that still-damp and cool, but sunny, mid-week morning.

Since we were in no hurry and hoping to let the day warm up a bit, it wasn’t until 9 am that we rolled into the Suamico launch, finding it packed, with only overflow parking available. Thinking out loud from his retired guy’s perspective, Joe muttered, “Doesn’t anyone work anymore?” adding, “I guess we weren’t the only ones who thought it was about time!”

So, the bad news was that we’d have to hike from and to the overflow lot. But the good news, we hoped, was that the word was out, and the bite was on. And that’s all I had on my mind as Joe, after waiting his turn in line, backed me down the ramp.

It was then that a good thing happened on the way to the launch. When just as our boat hit the water, a solitary, apparently early-rising angler being done for the day, pulled into the dock. I asked him where he’d parked. I learned that he was in the pole position, right next to the ramp. As our new friend pulled out, Joe, with some super-skilled maneuvering, and while under the jealous scrutiny of the guy in line behind us, backed right in.

A better, or luckier, start to our outing we couldn’t have asked for!

So, we were happy guys as we idled out of the mouth of the river to find a flat-watered, but unbelievably boat-free Bay.

Now, our plan was to run across to some east-shore structure where, at this time of the season in years past, we’d always done well with walleyes. But with the fleet all but missing in action, we hesitated.

“Everyone must be up past the point. And probably for good reason,” I offered.

“Yeah, playing bumper boats, no doubt,” Joe added, making a good point.

“So, it’s stick with our plan?” I asked.

“Sure. We can always shoot back over here if needed,” he replied reading my mind.

So, we were off. And after a quick ride on the calm waters, we deployed a rig of shallow-running crankbaits in an area we ominously had all to ourselves. There wasn’t another boat within a mile of us.

But after a half hour of biteless self-doubting, I was getting anxious. Then, just as we were about to make a move, our first bite produced a solid, 18-inch ‘eye. When a second trolling pass produced a twin to that first fish only twenty minutes later, it seemed that we might have a good thing going.

And as it turned out, we did. Far from fast and furious, we fished the beautiful, hassle-free day away. To the point that by mid-afternoon, we’d boated ten nice walleyes. Most of which were bigger than we like to keep, but including four nice eaters that were going home with us.

So, we called it in time to get home early. Thereby, well hopefully, banking some points with the girls that we could burn as needed another time.

Underscoring the fact that we had made the right call were conversations we had back at the launch with a couple crews who had fished with the fleet, but had little to show for it.

So, as Joe always says, irregardless of how the day’s fishing goes, “It was a good day. We didn’t break anything, and we didn’t get hurt. “And,” he added with a grin, “as far as the season goes, we’re finally on the board!”

All said and done, we agreed that it was worth the wait.