DATELINE: SEPTEMBER 19, 2024 – NEW RICHMOND, WISCONSIN
It all started with a new species – a goldeye, which (spoiler alert) I finally caught in Kansas City on September 15. I first learned about goldeye in 2014, while catching mooneye in Wisconsin with Martini and Pastor Mike Channing.
Mike and Martini on that very day.
Mooneye and Goldeye look very similar, and once I caught a mooneye, I must have asked Mike if every other fish we caught that day was a goldeye. They weren’t. They were all mooneyes. In the 12 years since, I have tried constantly for goldeye throughout the midwest, and I failed constantly until that Sunday a couple of months ago.
The moment I had the fish on the boat, I couldn’t help but think of Mike. While we hadn’t fished in person since those memorable Wisconsin trips, we had kept in constant touch over the years, trading calls and photos on new species and just to shoot the breeze.
So I texted Mike a picture, and said “Look what I caught!”
It took longer than normal for a response – he would usually send something right away, like “FINALLY.” The next day, I got an ominous note – “Sorry, Mike is not doing well and can’t see this.” It took me another day to sort out that the responses were coming from Mike’s wife, Crystal, when she sent a simple note “Yes, he is in the process of dying right now from cancer.”
What a gut punch. Mike and I had been in touch all year on fishing topics, he never once mentioned the awful diagnosis he got in January. That pretty much sums up Mike – it was never about him, preferring not to bother others with what must a have been a terrible battle with a terrible disease.
Two days later, on September 19, he was gone.
I hate writing these. I’d much rather write about a wedding, or a baby, or heck, even food poisoning, but when the fishing community loses someone important, especially someone who gave so many days of their life to others, I want to share what they meant to all of us. Mike Channing – who really was a Pastor, of the Cornerstone Church of New Richmond, Wisconsin, was a passionate species hunter, but was even more dedicated to his family and the church.
So how is it, you ask, that I didn’t burst into flames when we shook hands? That was the beauty of Mike – he was a regular guy, strong and firm in his faith, but respectful of others, even when my only apparent religious belief is that Ohio State is evil. I met him in 2014, through Martini Arostegui, who discovered Mike looking for an expert in upper midwest redhorse species.
Mike is third from the left, here at a Roughfish gathering. You might also notice some other species superstars in the photo, like Josh Liesen, Ben Cantrell, and Pat Kerwin.
It’s an hour or so from Minneapolis to where we were going to meet Mike, and perhaps 40 minutes into the drive, Martini chose to mention that Mike was a clergyman. I told Martini that I would have appreciated a lot more notice, to do speech therapy, because 40% of my normal vocabulary was going to have to be redacted. That trip, over Memorial Day, was marked by rotten weather but some great fishing – four species for me, and two world records for Martini, including the one that put him into second place behind his father.
The first photo I ever took of Mike. You will note the water was so high we were fishing in a parking lot, yet he was all smiles – and we caught fish.
My first white sucker. Note the flooded conditions behind us.
Martini and his 183rd world record – the one that put him alone in second place behind his Dad.
Mike never stopped talking about his family. His kids, all pretty young back then, looked like their photo came with the frame. When we met Crystal, we could not help but be reminded of “Parks and Recreation,” in which the burly, unassuming Jerry is actually married to Christie Brinkley.
For clarity, this is from Parks and Recreation. Mike was much better-looking than Jerry.
An actual family photo. See what I mean? That’s Caleb, Crystal, Mike, Claire, and Caitlin.
Martini and I returned to Wisconsin that August, and were blessed with three amazing days of fishing and 2.9 days of perfect weather. It was on this trip that Mike introduced me to Culver’s, one of the finest restaurants in the universe. It was also on this trip that Mike put us on the redhorse slam of all redhorse slams – silver, gold, shorthead, greater, and river in the same day. (I got eight new species on the trip in total.)
The next day was when I caught that first mooneye and began my goldeye obsession.
I also got the biggest channel cat I’ve ever landed.
On the last night, we set up at the dam in Eau Claire to fish through a perfect summer evening. It was a memorable night for me – among other things, I landed a 40 pound sturgeon on a steelhead rod. (With a huge assist from Martini.) It didn’t go as well for Mike and Martini – they fished big baits for flathead, and Mike missed a huge bite, which he took much more calmly than I would have.
A big thunderstorm was moving in, but the fishing was so good that we stuck it out about 10 minutes longer than we should have. The skies opened up on us as the temperature dropped 25 degrees. We got soaked to the spleen, I slipped and fell getting up the trail to the cars, the gear was all drenched, and then we had trouble opening the car. My underwear was holding at least a gallon of water, and I got a little crabby about it as I wrestled with the unnecessarily complex key fob. Mike put his hand on my shoulder and said “Next week, are you going to remember how wet you are right now or that you caught a 40 pound sturgeon on that light rod?” To this day, I can’t remember feeling wet, but I sure can remember holding that sturgeon, and I’ve never forgotten what he said. Nothing worth anything comes without a little sacrifice, but we remember the accomplishments, not the obstacles.
Those 2014 trips were the last time we fished together in person, but we kept in close touch over the years, with him updating me on his new catches and me sending him fish of interest. In 2015, when Martini inadvertently gave me the first shot at the rare and difficult spotted sucker, Mike texted him “NEVER give Steve any advantages.” The man knew me better than I thought he did.
With all of his responsibilities, Mike of course didn’t get to travel and fish as much as some of the others in the community. But he did missionary work in both Laos and Thailand – so apart from making a difference in small towns throughout Southeast Asia, he actually had quite a few exotic fish to his credit. Back in the US, he made every trip count, and as his son Caleb got older, he became a big part of the trips.
Father and son with a redhorse. I always admire watching a great Dad.
Mike always did a lot of winter pike and muskie.
Which means Caleb did too.
One of my favorite photos of Mike, with a lookdown from a Florida pier in driving rain. Mike texted me that they caught all kinds of stuff, but never once did he mention it was in a storm.
Do you think he remembers the scrawled filefish or the rain?
The girls got into the act too – here is Mike and Claire on a hunting trip. Or it’s Halloween and they dressed as Tigger.
That smile alone would be worth a 20 hour drive and sleeping in the car.
Two years ago, when I was in Minnesota for a baseball/football road trip, I ducked into Wisconsin for 30 hours of fishing, but I didn’t end up seeing Mike because, of course, I fished too late.
The central mudminnow – the last species Mike helped me get.
I regret that now. And even over the phone, Mike put me on a couple of really difficult species and left me with spots for a few more in better weather. One that sticks out is a culvert for Iowa darter. Ben Cantrell and I have made a promise to go there next spring, catch the thing, and take Mike’s family out to dinner.
Until then, Crystal, Caleb, Claire, and Caitlin, we all pass on our love and wish that you, like Mike, will someday be able to only remember the best parts of the best days and put everything else aside.
Steve
You can learn more about Mike from the lovely tribute HERE.
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