Outdoors | Do’s and don’ts for passing on heirloom fishing gear

The first request on the topic of “Can you help clear out my better-half’s fishing gear?” came after a fishing buddy moved into a long-term care facility. “I’d like to use Leroy’s garage space for other things,” his wife said.

I was well aware of the untidy state of Leroy’s attached garage; how he turned it into a man cave, complete with a wide-screen television, couch, 100-gallon aquarium, sink, and enough rods, reels and tackle to fill a double-wide trailer.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the sheer amount of angling equipment he managed to gather over the years, including an 18-cubic foot bait freezer stuffed “to the gills” with Ziplock bags of cured roe, dyed shrimp, shad, chicken livers, herring, anchovies, and squid. Some freezer-burned items were 10 years old.

After tossing all but a handful of year-old frozen roe kept for my use, I started in on tackle boxes. One box contained two dozen #4 “Rainbow” Vibrax spinners. Leroy could never have too much of a good thing. I also found a large collection of vintage Storm Wiggle Warts.

Although Brad’s newer lineup of lures provides a modern alternative, the original Wiggle Warts manufactured by the Storm brothers are prized for their legendary erratic side-to-side action.

Several fabled “warts,” carefully marked “fc” for “fish-catcher” in permanent ink, piqued my interest.

I set aside 20 of those special “Warts” for myself before thinking: “Why not share the wealth?” My modest collection of fishing tackle includes three rod racks in the garage for spinning rods and companion reels. A bedroom closet hold fly rods and related gear. Spare reels, lures, weights, and hooks are kept in two chest-of-drawers.

Piled up on the floor are individual gear bags for bass, walleye, steelhead, and salmon, respectively. Small gear bags and tackle boxes dedicated to surfperch, panfish, and shad have found a place among woodworking tools. I know where everything resides, but a non-angler might term the loose collection a “doom pile.”

In other words, I don’t need any more fishing gear! Putting several friends on notice, I lined up Leroy’s treasure trove of rods, reels, and assorted gear in my driveway. Eyes gleamed and hands shook when they reached for the treasure trove of spinners and plugs. “Don’t be a hog.”

“Leave something for others,” I cautioned an over-zealous friend who tried to walk off with a full tackle box. Admittedly, I held back several pounds of lead weights and a 12-foot-long sturgeon rod to remember Leroy by.

Another plea to sort out unwanted vintage fishing gear came six months later. This time from a needy widow hoping to make a few shekels from her dearly departed’s tackle. With nothing better to do on a balmy spring day, I entered a crowded room where cardboard boxes spilled over with a disarray of gear. While the stockpile of vintage tackle was interesting to look at, most items were outdated and of dubious value. In a gesture of good will, I purchased $20 worth of plugs I didn’t need and left the rest of the gear for the woman to deal with on her own.

This brings me to a recent incident with a dear friend who lost her dedicated angler husband of 50-some years. “Can you help me decide what fishing equipment to keep and what to sell?” she asked.

Entering a crowded, yet clean basement, I saw over a dozen rods propped up alongside a workbench. Bait-casting, spinning, and mooching reels, some in original boxes, were stacked high in a corner wall. An 8-foot long, three-tier shelf contained several large “hip roof” tackle boxes filled with lures, hooks, swivels, flashers, weights, and spools of monofilament and braided line.

I left with a splitting headache after sorting out several higher valued rods and reels for family and segregating other gear into “sell” and “give-away” piles. Three weeks passed before I mustered up the time and energy to finish the job. Unable to repress a self-serving nature, I arrived with cash to buy a vintage mooching reel that caught my eye. In a generous act of kindness, the widow gifted me the reel, which has since found a proud place on the fireplace mantle.

Regarding a portion of the give-away pile, I contacted three angling pals of the possibility of a free rod. “No mob action this time,” I said. “Show up by yourself when you can.” All three friends left my garage with smiles on their faces and a reliable rod or two of their liking.

“When’s the last time three good friends visited in the space of forty-eight hours?” I said to Nancy. “I had a great time telling fishing stories.”

“Maybe you should make a New Year’s resolution to give away some of your own gear,” she remarked. “You would make new friends and free up garage space at the same time.”

Dennis Dauble is author of five books about fish and fishing, and a recent book about life in the Umatilla River canyon titled, “A Rustic Cabin.” He can be contacted via his website, DennisDaubleBooks.com.