The Profile Of The Last Fishermen

The Last Fishermen. The Old Timers. What group of anglers do these phrases actually describe? I suggest the following profile. First of all, they are a group of men of age 70 years or older. They dress in clothing, or should I say rags, of worn glory. You can certainly tell by the rips and tears from the raging storms and the coats missing buttons. Never color coordinated, never clean, neat, nor trendy. Mere stained and weathered layers of clothes purchased from a different era. In addition to the mess of clothes one needs to challenge the elements, there are other tools they adorn. Importantly, there is the pier cart. They come in all shapes and sizes, mostly homemade masterpieces used to drag all the necessary tackle to the ends of the piers. Pretty much two beat up wheels surrounded by a cage like frame. Next is the wooden board used to lay the rods on. These, also, are hand crafted and well finished. You won't see old timers bending down to pick up their rods. Use a couple of buckets for balance and simply lay the board across for a nice platform. You need a good minnow bucket. Not the plastic junk of today's world. These are galvanized steel. The well built ones that last a life time. Names like Old Pal and Falls City adorn these beauties. Don't forget the rope. You need a long line to drop for water at the edge of the pier. Every time I see these ropes, all splintered and re knotted, I wonder when it will break loose. When I mention this to one of my buddy old timers, they shout "been good for 60 years, why should I change it now?" Then there are the prized rods. This I can not understand. I fish beside them fully equipped with latest gear and technology and they merely laugh. They bring two rods. Made of steel. The ones with glass eyes. With two vintage bait casting reels like a Shakespeare or a Phlueger. The ones that grind as they are reeled and hiss as fish are played. I awe at them and want to add them to my reel collection and put them under glass and they are scraping them every day on the cement. And importantly, there is the black line. The stuff thick as yarn and can be seen a mile away. I sit alongside with my mono filament ultralight tackle and can't believe my eyes. Is there anything I left out? Oh, I almost forgot, the black coffee.