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It is easy to put the past behind us - often for good reasons - but from time to time I like to reach back and pull up some of the stuff that influenced my passion for fishing.
While rummaging around my fishing shop recently, I came across three fishing reels that I treasured as a young angler: a vintage Pfleuger Pelican 1020 spinning reel handed down from Dad, a venerable green Johnson spincast and my pride and joy Mitchell 308.
They were the reels of my youth, their twirling bails spinning the foundation for a lifetime of joy on the water. The old 308, a scaled-down version of the famous Mitchell 300, was particularly important to me because I bought it at the old Consolidated store in Youngstown with my own money.
I thought that reel was a fine piece of equipment. How cool was I as I cast from the shore of a pond and trudged the banks of Yellow Creek with my smooth as silk 308? It went with me to Berlin, Milton and vacation trips on Burt Lake and Indian River in Michigan. Many a creek chub, sucker, bluegill, crappie, yellow perch, walleye and northern pike fought the 308's tenacious pull.
And then, one day after many years of service, the shiny black Mitchell went into retirement, alongside my Pfleuger and Johnson.
These days, I go to the lake with a dozen rods and reels, each selected and rigged for specific lures and techniques. If I want to throw a Chatterbait, I reach for a certain rod and reel. If I want to pitch a jig into heavy cover, I grab my flipping stick. You get the picture. Every rod and reel has its purpose.
Good tackle creates a sense of satisfaction. I find comfort in having my arsenal within reach, ready to serve at a moment's notice for whatever trick I wish to deploy.
So it was that recent day as I took the Mitchell 308 off the wall hook in my shop. It had been hanging there for decades, waiting perhaps for a day when it might once again go to the lake with me.
I cranked the handle and the bail turned with more resistance than I remembered. The bail opened with a certain stiffness, kind of like the protest I feel when I bend elbows and knees.
No problem. A couple of drops of oil on the gears did the trick and the old reel was spinning like it did in the distant past. As I cranked the handle, the satisfaction I experienced as a 15-year-old flooded my senses.
"This," I said to myself, "needs to go fishing one more time."
The line, of course, was not up to that task. I removed the ancient Stren mono and spooled fresh 10-pound-test high-vis yellow braid, added a leader of 8-pound fluorocarbon and tied on a circle hook with a weed card.
I mated the reel to a 35-year-old All Star spinning rod, taping it Tennessee style to the cork handle. My plan was to take the 308 to the lake to try to trick a largemouth into taking a whacky-rigged Senko.
The time came to put my old-school outfit to the test as I arrived at the edge of an isolated clump of water lilies. Surely, I guessed, a largemouth is lurking under the pads. I pitched, the line twitched, I jerked and the bass surged.
The reel did its job, succeeding in winching in the protesting bass. Satisfied with the 308's success, I stowed it back in the rod locker. It was best that the old reel retire again after one last catch.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Jack Wollitz has been writing about fishing for Vindy and Trib readers for nearly 40 years. Contact him at jackbbaass@gmail.com.