Caring deeply about how one’s rig looks while one is cold and not catching steelhead, one bought this old clicker salmon reel for one’s River of Presidents two-hander.
Scuffs = juju? Scuffs = old, beat up shit? You can argue it both ways. But I also enjoy pretty much all kinds of gear.
I love the brute, reductive simplicity of the clicker. I love the notion of a bent piece of metal knocking against another, wedge-shaped of metal as the only technological brake on a fall-run Superior fish that lately set out to remove a sculpin, goby, or smelt from its respective gene pool. The air-raid siren screech of a steelhead making a run against 50-year old Scottish aluminum and steel on a cold, foggy morning in a red-mud valley alone on a run …
As Professor Cheeseburger said to me: “wait til it starts barking.”