For me, the ultimate eating fish has always been Lake Erie perch.

That’s why a couple of weekends ago, Nan and I joined our good friends John and Carol Pinckney on a charter fishing boat a dozen miles off Port Clinton, Ohio, murdering scores of minnows as we caught the state limit of 120 of my favorite fishes.

Doug Krabacher, a friend of the Pinckneys, was our skipper. Our first mate was Steve. Bow riding high in the sea, Krabacher sped us to where the depth was about 30 feet, then had Steve toss the anchor.

Now, I am certain these minnows had never gone fishing before, but you could tell they weren’t all that excited about going for the first time. They became even less excited as we double-hooked two of them to the “hangers” on the ends of our lines and lowered them into the water, where they would sink to the bottom. Then we’d crank the reel a time or two and wait, not that we waited long.

Lake Erie is a large hunk of water. Somehow, though, Krabacher, who has been a lake captain 27 years, parked us right over Perch City at rush hour. With barely perceptible taps the perch would hit our minnows and we’d reel them in, sometimes singly, other times by two.

Naturally, of the four of us, I was the last to reel one in. This momentarily left me cussing the perch under my breath, something I had never done before. But the moment one surrendered to my minnow, all was forgiven.

Hauling in those perch, which we fed into a fish bucket through a tube that automatically counted them, was a satisfying feeling that even rocking on the waves couldn’t quash. And while there was a time or two when I feared the rocking was going to pitch me overboard, I knew my buddy John would haul me back in, him having done so once before on the Arkansas River.

Anyway, after three hours of fishing, we had our limit, then headed back to shore for cold beers and perch sandwiches, while a huge bald guy named Curly cleaned our fish in minutes.

Arriving back into Muncie, Nan bought a food-saver at Target, and we bagged our filets that night.

You know, happiness means different things to different people. Right now, for me, it means having 16 pounds of Lake Erie perch in my freezer.

John Carlson is a features writer for The Star Press.

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