My Dad gave me this fly box. He found it while we were out fishing (I’m sure I was trailing along behind him somewhere) and I remember seeing it for the first time. It was covered in gunk that things get covered in when they have been dropped and forgotten in the Kern River somewhere in the Eastern Sierra’s. I remember that he gave it to me and told me to clean it up. I spent hours cleaning it. All the springs latched doors were stuck, I got them all to work again. The inside and outside were covered in river goo. I cleaned it up as best I could and immediately wanted to use it. This was probably 20 years ago. Fast forward to a couple weeks ago.
A couple of my friends and I were planning a fishing trip to the Sierra’s. We do this every so often and always have a great time. We all like to fly fish and always bust out the gear way ahead of time to get things ready and make last minute runs to the sporting goods store. Every time we do this I think to myself that I should get another fly box. One that is newer, that holds more or is waterproof or whatever new thing is out there. I have upgraded my fishing pole, and my other gear, but I can’t bring myself to get another fly box. This is the one. It’s the one I will carry with my on all my fishing trips. I love this thing. I love the way it feels, and how some of the hinged doors get stuck unless you know just how to open them. It has character, it’s been used and seen many rivers and streams. Most of all, it came from my Dad, and every time I use it I think of the times that we have fished together. One of these days I may fill it up with flies and take my Dad out and let him “borrow” it for a bit.
Last modified: August 6, 2016