July 2021
This summer, I discovered a new kind of fishing in a place that felt remarkably like the Bahamas—except the water was fresh, the smallmouth bass were plentiful, and the nearest palm tree was hundreds of miles away.
The trip was a gift from my wife, Libby, celebrating two milestone birthdays: my oldest son Will’s 30th and my 65th. Our guide was our friend Ethan Winchester of Boyne Outfitters, who was launching a new venture: freshwater flats fishing around Waugoshance Island, near the Straits of Mackinac.
We met Ethan in Petoskey at 7:00 on a sunny, exceptionally calm morning. From there, we followed Lake Shore Drive past Harbor Springs and through Good Hart to the public boat launch at Cross Village. The forecast called for wind later in the day, but the maze of islands and secluded back bays promised plenty of places to hide.
Waiting for us at the launch was Ethan’s nearly indestructible Hog Island flats skiff. He described it as “a Yeti cooler with a motor”—a Tohatsu jet outboard, to be exact. The boat draws only two inches of water and has a poling platform that gives the guide a commanding view of fish cruising the shallows.
Then there was Gary, the affectionate nickname for Ethan’s GPS-controlled Garmin trolling motor. Gary can hold the boat over a pod of fish when the captain grows tired of poling or wrestling with the wind. More reassuringly, he is powerful enough to get everyone home should the outboard decide otherwise.
That last detail led to a brief discussion about boats, motors, luck—and bananas.
As we crossed the bay toward Waugoshance, I pulled out a bottle of Banana Boat sunscreen. Ethan looked as though I had produced a live grenade. In boating and fishing circles, bananas are considered notoriously bad luck.
The superstition supposedly dates to the 1700s, when a suspicious number of ill-fated ships were said to have carried bananas. Other theories involve slippery peels on deck, venomous creatures hiding among the fruit, and even the possibility that their sweet smell repels fish. Whatever the origin, Ethan was certain that my unfortunately named sunscreen threatened both the success of our trip and the mechanical health of his new boat.
I eventually persuaded him that lotion containing the word “banana” was not the same as bringing an actual banana aboard. The day proved me right, but I will not tempt the fates again.
On our way out, Ethan pointed to three historic sentinels guarding these waters: the White Shoal, Skillagalee Island, and Waugoshance lighthouses. For generations, their beacons helped guide vessels through the island passages leading to the Straits of Mackinac, the narrow channel connecting Lake Michigan and Lake Huron. Technically, the two are one enormous body of water—and out there, surrounded by nothing but blue, it certainly feels that way.
The most remarkable thing about the Waugoshance flats is how tropical they appear. The water is so clear and shallow that the bottom seems close enough to touch. Pale sand, brilliant sunlight, and endless shades of turquoise create the illusion of the Caribbean. You have to keep reminding yourself that it is Lake Michigan—freshwater on an almost unimaginable scale.
There is no salt, and there are no jellyfish, sea urchins, or sharks—at least none that we know of.
I have fished more than 75 bodies of water for countless species, but sight-fishing for smallmouth bass on the crystal-clear flats around Waugoshance Island was a first. It now ranks near the top of my list in just about every category.
Ounce for ounce, the smallmouth may be the gamest fish that swims. We caught more than two dozen, first on fly rods and later on spinning tackle when the wind began to rise. Watching a fish appear over the sand, tracking its movement, placing a fly in its path, and then seeing it turn and strike adds a dimension that blind casting simply cannot match.
The uninhabited shoreline also supports a remarkable amount of wildlife, including an abundance of bald eagles. Beneath the surface, we spotted other potential targets, among them northern pike and the prehistoric-looking muskellunge.
At one point, I hooked a northern measuring roughly 30 inches on a spinning rod and a coffee-colored tube. The fish quickly handed my line back to me—minus the leader and lure. Message received. Next time, I will arrive better prepared.
Surprisingly, we saw only one other boat all day. Unfortunately, its occupants decided to join us in our secluded little honey hole. Ethan was understandably put out, but with miles of promising water available, we chose to leave fish to find fish—and reclaim our solitude.
At lunchtime, we pulled onto a quiet sand beach and settled in for a picnic prepared by the kitchen at Boyne Mountain Resort. With clear water lapping at the shore and no one else in sight, it was difficult to believe we were still in Michigan.
After lunch, Will and I prevailed upon Ethan to give us a casting lesson. Every angler needs a tune-up from time to time. Bad habits creep in, and the double haul can become elusive without regular practice. Ethan is a patient and perceptive instructor. He helped both of us refine our presentations and quickly diagnosed the cause whenever a tailing loop appeared.
By afternoon, the promised wind had arrived, but the skiff slipped easily into protected bays. Gary kept us in position, the fish continued to cooperate, and the Banana Boat curse remained safely dormant.
Will and I count ourselves fortunate to have been among Ethan’s first anglers as he gets this new venture dialed in. He has recognized an extraordinary and largely untapped fishery—one that offers a perfect alternative during the months when trout fishing slows.
More than anything, the day was a reminder of how much remains to be discovered close to home. On a quiet stretch of northern Lake Michigan, my son and I found clear tropical-looking water, hard-fighting fish, wild islands, historic lighthouses, soaring eagles, and enough solitude to make the rest of the world feel very far away.
It was a birthday gift, a fishing trip, and a genuine adventure. And next time, I’ll bring the wire leaders.
But not the Banana Boat.
