It used to be that the smelts were plentiful along the southern tip of Lake Michigan in April.

Families would come in from the ‘burbs (carrying on the tradition they learned from their fathers). Or, Chicago anglers would make use of their nets (stored 11 months of the year) and set up camp.

Smelters will drop their nets from piers or walkways along the lake and bring coolers, finger food and firewood. From quite a distance, I imagine, you can see blazes contained in 50-gallon metal drums at Burnham Harbor or Planetarium Point or other places along the shore.

Our spot is along Montrose Harbor because it has a great nighttime view of Chicago’s skyline.

We used to use park district trash cans to contain our bonfires, but boat owners do not like smelt fishermen (i.e., partiers) to have blazes close to their expensive toys so they took the cans away.

The past few years, Nancy, who spearheads our tradition, brings her own can.

We should bring smelts as well.

For the past ten or more years, our nets have been empty. We’ll catch an occasional alewife (not good to eat), but rarely do we see the little silvery fishes shimmer in our net.

Good thing that we don’t come for the fish.

We come for the fire, for the camaraderie; for the stories, the laughter. We come because it’s a tradition.

Nancy sends out an email at the beginning of the month. We try to pick a Saturday night not during the Easter weekend. Nancy and Jim bring a burner for camping, paper goods, and a dish like chili or pulled pork, and everybody else brings snack foods and wine.

We all bring folding chairs and dress in layers. Some years, it’s pleasant and some years we have to work harder to convince ourselves we’re having fun because it’s so freakin’ cold!

It has to be really bad to declare a rain-out.

Nancy and the other Deb puts the net in before sunset (around 6:00 or 7:00) and we don’t leave until Chicago’s finest donut eaters chase us out of the parking area around 11:00.

Some of the people who come for our annual April get together are best friends and some of us only see each other at Montrose Harbor in April.

We catch up on our respective travels (Susan’s recent trip to Antarctica to check out the penguins was the most surprising story this year), and those of us that have kids share a status update, mainly whether they have a job and a serious sweetie.   Or, we’ll inquire after grandkids.

We compliment each other on the dishes we pass around. (Great beans and deviled eggs this year.) We strike up random conversations with the other faithful. We’ll ask passersby if they’ve caught anything (already knowing the answer) and commiserate about the downward spike of the smelt population in our local waters.

A core group is committed to come out each April and we’re always inviting friends and friends of friends.

We like to tease the smelting virgins, first-timers, about requiring them to bite the head off the first fish netted. (Since we don’t catch anything, this is not as gross as it sounds.)

Maybe some of the faces around the fire can are different, but the feeling is the same every year.

And of course, we sign the BOOK. Nancy brings a journal and whoever shows up that year tries to compose something memorable.

Maybe individual comments highlight extreme weather or odd events (like the year another smelter dressed up in a Chicken Man costume), but mostly we write about being happy to be part of the party; to share each other’s company another April.

Keeping up a tradition (this one is well over 20 years old) is no small thing.