Skip to main content

Gearing Up For Spring Fishing



The unseasonably warm temperatures have awakened me from my hibernation a little early this year. Already, I have fish on the brain. I’m standing at the back of my Jeep, trying to solve the jigsaw puzzle of how to fit all the gear I have into the trunk, without having to throw out the jack or spare tire.

The only reason I keep fishing gear in my vehicle is the off chance that I will drive by prime fishing water and want to check and see if anybody’s home. I pass by Lake Robinson and Lake Cunningham each day on my way to and from work, and often find myself taking a detour on nice days. I never know when the urge will hit me, so I need to stay prepared.

I’m guilty of going a little overboard, especially when it comes to tackle. You can never have too much, I always say--and then by mid-summer, I’ve either lost or destroyed half of what I started with.

This year will be different, I promise myself.

After taking everything out of the trunk, I step back and assess the situation. What I need to do is consolidate my tackle boxes and choose which rod and reels I absolutely need to have in my car. I settle on a medium-sized tackle bag and stock it well with various lures and a good assortment of hooks, weights, and swivels. I make sure to include any necessary tools, such as pliers and a knife, and an extra spool of line or two. I decide to keep two medium action spinning outfits in there, and leave some room for a two-piece fly rod.

I gather up the remaining rods and gear, and return them to my storage building for safe keeping. Once inside, I take a quick inventory of the layers upon layers of fishing gear, some of which I don’t even remember purchasing. 

I guess my next project will be going through all of this stuff, too. I’m sure all of the reels need oiling, and the rotten line replaced. Some of my tackle is spilled out and the hooks are tangled up in bait nets and a pile of dusty life preservers. I’ve got a mess.

I’ll start on this as soon as I’m done fishing.

Previously published in The Greer Citizen, March 11, 2020







 

 

 




Comments

  1. Looking for Fishing Equipment OnlineJune 16, 2021 at 10:19 PM

    This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  2. NakoOctober 25, 2021 at 9:23 PM

    I owe you a debt of gratitude because the article you've posted here is fantastic about Drop Shot Weights Bulk. I learned something useful from this article. Thank you for sharing that. Continue to post.

    ReplyDelete
  3. livebait.comFebruary 17, 2022 at 12:46 PM

    Very well written article. It was an awesome article to read. Read more info about Cast Net Fishing. Complete rich content and fully informative. I totally Loved it.

    ReplyDelete
  4. reelreportsFebruary 17, 2022 at 2:11 PM

    You are providing good knowledge. It is really helpful and factual information for us and everyone to increase knowledge. about Florida Fishing Reports .Continue sharing your data. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  5. ICTYODEVMay 14, 2022 at 4:15 PM

    You have provided valuable data for us. It is great and informative for everyone. Read more info about Fish Contract Research Organization Keep posting always. I am very thankful to you.

    ReplyDelete
  6. FishingGear.ieJune 15, 2022 at 9:17 AM

    Great job, this is good information which is shared by you. This information is very meaningful and factual for us to increase our knowledge about it. Always keep sharing this type of information. Thanks. Read more info about Buy Fishing Tackle Equipment Online

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Point Through Time

Occasionally, the Earth will give up some of her secrets. If one should be so lucky as to stumble across one of those secrets, it can have a lasting impact on how that individual sees himself, and the world around him. History is not just the past, but our past. On my way to a hunting stand one morning, my headlamp caught a glint of white, protruding from the red clay on the bank that I was crossing. I laid my recurve bow on the ground and took great care digging the point out of the mud, then wiped it off on my shirt tail. The serrated edge was as sharp as the day it was made, long before Europeans set foot in North America. Over the years, I have found several points, each unique, bearing the mark of the one who made it. The smaller ones being bird-points, or true arrowheads, the larger were no doubt spear points, used with an atlatl, a device used to hurl the spear at game, or enemy in time of war. They turn up in field edges after heavy rains, or on old logging roads. Sometimes
Post a Comment
Read more

River Walk

Through clear water you see the first leaves of early fall lying scattered on the smooth river stones on the bottom. The slick rock reflect glints of sunlight in the shallows. Everything takes on the hues of russet and amber and somewhere in there are flecks of gold and flashes of silver swirling in the eddies and riffles, gliding down into the deep pockets along steep banks rife with ferns and alder trees and jewelweed. As far as you can see up the river, trees form a canopy over the water, all bending toward the other side, all lacing their branches together to form a tunnel for an occasional cool breeze to flow through, loosening dead leaves and pieces of dried branches that fall into the current and end up gathering around your legs as you make your way upstream. A river birch growing right on the bank is canted over at an angle across your path, it's root ball pulling out of the soil and rock near the water. At the base of this tree, the river has deposited fallen limbs and
2 comments
Read more

A Kindred Spirit

That morning, I paddled the cove, searching around fallen timber and boat docks for bass. The first one I hung into pulled my kayak around like a bathtub toy, even though he was no more than two pounds. I took a good look at the fish, then flipped him back into the tangled mass of brush that I'd pulled him out of. When I paddled back out away from the bank, I saw a man in a red kayak, working the shoreline toward me, although his only fishing rod was upright in the rod holder, and his hands were prodding the rocks, as if he was searching for something. I just watched him, wondering what he was looking for, and then when he pulled up a wad of mono with a Carolina rig attached to it, I knew he was a treasure hunter. He looked to be around 70-- slender and tall with a white goatee and ponytail, earrings and tattoos, a stubby pipe puffing smoke as he paddled on around the bend to find another jewel. When he looked up, I threw up my hand. He took the pipe from his teeth and said, &quo
Post a Comment
Read more