Rehoming My Survival Fishing Kit

Every year when I was a child, my family drove up into northern Minnesota to stay in a rented wooden cabin on Mille Lacs Lake (“thousand lakes lake”.)  We went when the days were still warm but the evenings were crisply cool and comfortable.  Our primary objective was to be in the pine forest and to fish the lake.  Early on my grandmother bought us children matching canvas fishing coats and she made sure that we all had passed our swimming classes at the municipal swimming pool.  (I think I may have blogged our annual fishing expedition before, but writing it is so pleasurable that I am doing it again today!  So sue me!)

Six of us went out on the lake in a six-person aluminum canoe powered by a small outboard motor which my father drove as if hell-bent for the deep, dark center of that massive lake; while my mother and grandmother shouted above the wind to caution him, "Peter, don't go so far out, what if something happens!" and "Stay near the shore, that's where the fish are."  Which we all knew was not quite true as the Walleye that my father wanted were in deep water.  Father was greatly satisfied when he caught Walleye, grappling with them to pull them up from the depths of the lake.  On the rare trip out on the lake that he caught only Pike, which he released, he complained with amusement that he had been "skunked."  Grandmother preferred to fish along the weeds near the shore for bright panfish, Sunfish, Smallmouth Bass, Yellow Perch, Black Crappie, and Bluegill.  All pretty and plentiful but full of tiny bones.

When Father asked his three children if they wanted to learn how to clean fish, my younger sister and brother literally ran away.  I followed my Father into the fish house and learned the humane way to clean fish:  a solid thunk with a heavy knife handle on the head to kill them or at least to dull their pain, then quickly scrape off the scales, gut them, trim off the fins and lastly remove head which has served as a handhold on the fish during the cleaning.  Mother breaded these fish fillets in cornmeal, flour, salt, and pepper and cooked them on the fragrant wood stove in Crisco shortening.*  Fresh fish is so delicious!  With an aside of sliced bread and butter, and a can of green beans heated and seasoned with more butter, we were fueled for adventure walking along the beach in front of our cabin, or going a little ways into the pine forest in the back.

I have always had a survival fishing kit in my vehicle because I know that I can pull a meal from any healthy lake with that gear (see photo below.)  When I drove a truck I tucked it under the bench seat, later when I switched to cars to ease my pains, I kept it in the trunk.  Now that I can barely walk across my living room, I know that climbing down to a lake to fish during a survival scenarios is out of the question.  So it is time to let my survival fishing kit go.  I gave it to the mail carrier who understood perfectly.  She promised to put it in her vehicle as a token against any disaster.

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*  "While it offers baking benefits like flaky crusts and tender textures, the presence of partially hydrogenated oils in its original formulation, and even potential concerns in newer formulas, makes it moderately detrimental to health if consumed regularly in large quantities."  Random Internet Source

Time To Rehome My Survival Fishing Gear

by Annmarie Throckmorton, copyright 2026

Fishing kit from top left to right and down:  waterproof TravelSmith bag, 3 reels fishing line, plastic case of fishing hooks on leaders, plastic bag of fishing hooks on leaders (cost 6¢ in 1950s), two cork bobbers; plastic container of red and yellow plastic bobbers, hooks, lead weights, and an orange stringer.