Passing of time
I originally wrote this for a publication which didn’t publish it. I decided, while this page collects cobwebs, maybe I should post it here.
When I was young, I remember my dad bought me my first “real,” fishing combo. It was a Pflueger arbor, which I had spooled at the time with 20lb braid and caught everything from panfish to trout on. I cherished it, using it more than any other rod I had. Then, after a while, I wanted something better.
I was infected with GAS at a young age. GAS when you’re younger is so much worse. Your time on the water is limited to your parents and access to water itself, so you spend way too much time online. Everyone has the best lures, the newest reels. And my mind quickly equated better reels with success.
Spinning reels turned to bait casters, and those bait casters eventually became conventional reels I would use to troll for whatever I thought might have been in the lake I fish in. Those round reels were loaded with lead core line, and I was filled with dreams of catching a monster pike like I had saw Babe Winkleman pull out of the water up in Canada. Unfortunately, my lake harbored no pike and my efforts to catch them were thus, futile.
Eventually I fell in love with fly fishing, if not for the tactile feeling of a limber 4wt loading and unloading with a single false cast, then for the aesthetic character associated with the sport. After a while, I dug the old arbor out of my basement. Now 22, the reel which once felt huge has now shrunk dramatically in my hand.
The cork held up well, succumbing to no rot. The only problem with the rod is the slight expansion of the handle over the years making the reel seat so tight a quick smack with a hammer is needed to separate the reel from the rod.
The reel works well, smooth, some dirt here and there, but nothing reel oil and slight cleaning couldn’t fix. Sure, there was some rust, and the aluminum has started to oxidize, but hey, nothing too bad.
I spooled it up with 12 pound flouro, as I planned on this medium heavy becoming a lake trout rod. To date I’ve gone fishing for lakers once with this rod.
Part of me almost doesn’t wish to use it, keep those memories alive, don’t put the contradictions in my head. Don’t make the reel grow, the color of the line change, don’t risk breaking something that’s both beautiful and worthless. But I know this isn’t the way.
I imagine myself, looking into the future, seeing what I’m doing now. The bluegill and bass turn into trout and salmon. The ultra-light spinning gear was replaced with spry dry fly setups and bobbers for indicators. I can only imagine that past me would love to know I still use that same rod, in addition to the others we’ve collected.
A couple weeks ago, I let my friend use the arbor. His combo was a dreadful Walmart spinning reel, with awful old line on it. Within minutes, he somehow put a wind knot into the reel, and continued to cast until I took the poor thing from his hands. He expected me to be annoyed, to be mad, but I only laughed. It reminded me of my origins with this same combo. All the knots I’ve gotten, all the drops it’s taken, rainy days with no cleaning, days it’s taken a beating, and more than any of the fish it’s caught, the people I’ve been with while holding this unassuming piece hunk of aluminum.
At the end of the day, the reel is only an object, and as much as you want to cherish it, maybe the correct way is to put it to use. I thought putting it to use would kill those memories with friends lost, family members gone away, but those memories are still there. In fact, I think it’s really nice to have a reminder of those memories and when the reel finally gives up the ghost, I’ll have a memory of that too.
