Too Much Equipment and other musings...(long)

On Tue, 5 Oct 2004 19:37:07 -0400, "snakefiddler"
wrote:
(s
nipped)
i don't know about that one-the cynical side of me imagines someone picking
it up for the purpose of selling it-
snake

Maybe they need the money? I tend not to bother about that stuff
unless I'm getting rid of a live animal. Then I like a bit of money
so that I'm sure it's not some whacko or some medical experiment
thing. But if I hand out change on the street and some guy thanks me
(over half do) and says, "I won't use it for booze" (about 1/20th), I
say, "I don't care what you use it for. It's a gift. It's yours
now." and walk on. Sometimes leaving them staring blankly after me.

It was one of the reasons I put in the loss of control part of just
leaving it with a note. You'll never know what happens to it if you
do it that way. Some people can't handle that.

But you have to leave the note, because many of the nicest people
won't touch something that they think someone might come back for.

Cyli
r.bc: vixen. Minnow goddess. Speaker to squirrels.
Often taunted by trout.

http://www.visi.com/~cyli

Tontine.

john (I've mentioned it before)



"Barry" wrote in message
ink.net...
I spent over fifty years fly fishing with my dad before he died about
three
months ago. Both of us collected a lot of fly fishing gear over that
period
of time. When I inherited my dad's equipment, I found my den looking like
a
small tackle shop. I've also found that I really don't need all of that
equipment. I have a question and ask for some suggestions from the Group.
I have one child, a daughter, who has chosen not to have children. There
are no other males in the family who have an interest in fly fishing. My
daughter and sister have no interest...and my one nephew appears to be
going
in another direction with his dad. Which leads me to something that my
dad
and I discussed at one time and that is the "legacy" of our passion for
fly
fishing. It seems so wrong to leave such a collection of fine equipment
to
those who don't understand it's intrinsic value and are unable to
appreciate
the legacy that comes with it. Since my dad's death, it has bothered me a
lot. I have my own health problems that have been limiting me of
late...and
I worry. I recall a story by Nick Lyons (a true one, I believe) in which
he
tells about the death of a fly fisherman. Nick Lyons was called upon by
the
man's daughter to look over the fly fishing equipment left by her father
and
determine what, if anything, had value. He did just that...and recalls
his
first visit to the daughter's apartment where she lived with her boyfriend
and children. As he entered the apartment, he saw the kids using the tips
from some high quality bamboo rods as "swords" for sword fighting games.
It
was a sad read as it was obvious that this gal's father was passionate
about
his fly fishing...and had some very fine equipment. The true value of
what
he had was lost by the daughter as she was looking to sell it for what she
could get out of it in cold cash. While my daughter will love and cherish
many of the things I leave her, including my favorite rods, reels
etc...it's
still not the same. I don't want my favorite rod, for instance, to die
the
slow death of inertia. I live in a very remote area in California near
the
Oregon border in a beautiful spot in a forest on the banks of the Smith
River. I have thought about finding a young boy/man with a passion for
the
sport but lacking equipment and/or a "teacher"...and a fly fishing
companion. Thoughts? Suggestions?

Earlier in my life, I thought that I'd never have too much fly fishing
gear.
I have now found that you can only use so much...and that most of the old
equipment does the job just fine. I have some old bamboo rods that I
still
love to use...and they are relics of the past now. I have finally stopped
chasing technology and have chosen not to buy the "newer, bigger better"
mousetrap. Nostalgia and memories are more important to me. My dad's
favorite steelhead rod for instance, will always fish better for me than
anything I could ever buy. And a sip of Brandy from my dad's old flask
will
always taste good to me...and I'm really not a Brandy drinker (although I
can think of some cold Winter mornings when out steelhead fishing when the
warmth from the Brandy kept me fishing a bit longer). I've also found
that
a well chewed and sparsely tied Gray Hackle Yellow Body will catch just as
much as any number of flies that I've tied over the years...if fished
correctly. As an aside, I tied flies (commercially during my college
days)
to sell to fisherman and made them works of art. They sold well.
However,
my dad tied flies that caught fish. I look at them now and see why...as
they are truly "buggy" looking. He tied with a rough hand but he knew
what
caught fish. Even before his death, on our last fishing trip together
when
he was 85 years old, he still outfished me. I did everything right...but
he
caught the fish. I can still recall the twinkle in his eye when he caught
the only large trout of the day. He said nothing...but he didn't have to.
A photo of my dad catching his last fish is attached...although I don't
know
if photos can be posted in this Group or not.

Again...regarding my roomful of equipment, I don't need most of it...just
my
favorite rods/reels and the keepsakes. I need to think about what to do
with those things I don't need. Besides, it's about the environs in which
trout are found and the art of fly fishing...not about having the newest
mousetrap. My father found solace from life's stresses in his fly
fishing...as have I. Such solace does not require a room full of
equipment.
I think of most importance to all of us and future generations is the
preservation of the environment that supports quiet moments on the stream
where memories can be built. We have lost so much over the years in that
regard. I grew up on the banks of the Eel River in California and watched
the slow demise of that river. It is, by the way, where we'll be
scattering
my dad's ashes at the end of this month...when he and I fished the Eel
using
our Halloween Comets (with the long, black marabou tails) and seldom were
skunked. I will wade out into the Eel river at the confluence of the Van
Duzen, release the ashes of a really good fly fisherman and then cast a
line
with his favorite steelhead rod. And I will thank him for all that he's
given me.

Enough nostalgia. What to do with so much equipment is where I started.
Maybe a fly fishing club or ??

Barry