Unfortunately, most of what I owned could not be sold under the "grandfather" clause of the Firearms Act.
I owned the firearms as a "sports shooter" and was in the process of being reclassified as a collector but the system made it so difficult that I essentially just "gave up" on firearm ownership. I was going through a lot of negative personal and professional "life" stuff at the time and just didn't have the will to jump through their hoops.
In a related story, the day I finally called to turn in the guns makes for a fun story as well.
I called the RCMP, who promptly transferred me to the Sûreté du Québec, who then suggested I call my local municipal police. As I did not have transport papers and was without a car at the time, I didn't think schlepping them onto a bus or taxi and going down to the local police station the best of ideas.
So I called the non-emergency number of the police, informed them of my request to have my firearms turned in, and was told to bring them in anyways without any paperwork. Finally, I managed to convince the officer on the line that sending a car down to my place was probably the best solution.
I get the firearms ready for easy inspection and to move, ensuring that they are all trigger or cable locked with the barrels or bolts kept separately. They are all still in hard shell transport cases but the cases themselves are unlocked. A car door slams outside of my place and I head to the front to see if it the police. As I am walking, I see one of the officers through the glass front door suddenly move from left to right side of the door frame.
"Just great, they're stacking on the side the door opens."
I calmly open the front door to my home and am greeted by two young (20 -23 years old) female officers, both with their hands on their pistols, assertively telling me to place my hands in the air. So there I am with my hands up in my own door frame of my house using my calmest voice to assure the two officers that they are in no danger, I am the only person in the house, and where the firearms are located. Still with my hands in the air, we move into the main hallway where the gun cases are and while one officer keeps me under observation the other does a room to room search of my home, both floors. This is the only aspect that pissed me off but I guess once past the front door they have every right to go through the dwelling.
They took the cases away and came back a few hours later with the appropriate paperwork. While I did at the time find their actions a little excessive, I can appreciate that they likely do not get that many calls for firearms pick up and certainly when they looked up what I was turning in, they decided to err on side of caution.