I'm a bit late posting about this, but please bear with me. About a month ago, I got an invite to fish out of St. Joseph with my friend Geno. He asked me to bring along another guy, so I called my buddy Tony, who usually goes walleye fishing with me on Lake Erie. Tony was all for it, but said he didn't have anyone to watch his 10-yr old foster son. I told him to bring Austin and I'd bring my 10-yr old son Luke and we'd make a day of it. Of course, I called Geno to make sure It was ok. Geno was excited about it, so we set out toward St. Joe the night before.
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We left the hotel and headed down the river toward the lake at 5:30 am, attempting to get on an early king bite. We got a couple of licks on the downriggers in 75 FOW. Noting materialized, so we ran out to set up to troll between 260 to 290 fow, chasing coho. It wasn't long before we got both of the two boys their first salmon ever, a pair of nice coho. We picked away at fish but never really got into them. While Geno and I set lines, changed baits and depths, Tony helped the two boys learn how to steer the boat and keep us on course. They really enjoyed themselves, and Tony had a great time helping them.
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At noon, we had 5 coho in the box and easily lost as many (that's another story). We decided we'd turn around and come back though one more time. Most of our hits came on sliders on the downriggers in 270 feet, so we figured if we made it through there and got no hits, we would head for the ramp. Two hits, lost both fish. We spun around and gave it another try. We got to 272 feet and finally got a hit that made a reel sing. Our biggest hit of the day.
Tony grabbed the rod and was in for a fight. The aerial show began and we knew we had a good steelhead on the line. Tony would reel in 50 feet of line, and the steelie would strip off 70. This went on for a solid 20 minutes before I successfully netted the 13-pounder. The smile on Tony's face was priceless. Geno was thrilled we ended the day on a high note. We got back to the ramp, made a few more pictures and parted ways with Geno. Tony talked about that last fish and hanging out with the boys the whole two-hour ride home. He had a hell of a great day.
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I learned at 7:30 the next morning that day was Tony's last. He died of a heart attack in the overnight hours. He was 53.
I was stunned. I still am stunned. Tony gave no impression that anything at all was wrong with him. He was a former Fort Wayne police officer and in the last two years had been working in parking enforcement after leaving the PD. Every time I ran into Tony downtown, we'd talk about our next trip to the big lake. I still catch myself looking down a street on his route, expecting to see him writing a ticket.
I felt terrible knowing that Tony spent his last day on Earth fishing with me instead of spending time with his family. But his wife, his mother, his oldest son and most of his family thanked me for helping him have one of the best last days a guy could want. I still struggle with it, but I guess if I could know when I was going to go, I'd want to fight a big silver fish for my last hurrah.
Folks, get your hearts checked if you haven't in awhile. Even if you don't think you need to.
Thank you for hanging with me through this story.
Chad