I have my grandfather’s fly rods. He wasn’t a fly fisherman by any stretch of the imagination. As far as he could recall, he used them a handful of times in Illinois and Wisconsin for bluegill, little pike, and the random brook trout. There are four of them: a beat up dime store bamboo, a couple of name brand glass rods from the early 60’s, and one built on what appears to be a cherrywood blank. Today they are mounted in my office.

From time to time, I’ll walk by and pick one up. Why wouldn’t these be sufficient for the majority of my fishing? More often than not I’m casting in bass ponds and on medium-to-small trout rivers. 20 to 30 feet of fly line gets the job done most of the time. Better, more expensive rods, are helpful, but not at all necessary for my favorite kinds of fly fishing. Such equations typify the tension between fishing and fishing stuff.

That hasn’t stopped me from amassing quite a few better, more expensive rods.

Fly fishing practically begs introspection and appreciation for the small things. There’s the romantic notion of standing in water and reaching out to a wild creature that can’t be seen until you fool it. The fly rod is the focal point of this quasi-mystical relationship. At times, gear is handed down from generation to generation. Conversely, making a deliberate choice regarding what tool to procure can be a very personal one. So it makes sense that fly rods have an aura, and a special kind of introspection around them.

An old cherrywood pole might be special because it belonged to a relative. A $100 graphite rod from the local sporting goods store might be special because it communicates that fishing is about more than gear. A $800 fly rod might be special because it is the result of hours of research and saving. Each of those specials has value.

In objective terms, there isn’t a right or wrong answer. What may be a good purchase for you might be a bad one for me. What I might think is essential, you may very well consider negligible. You could even prioritize spending on saltwater gear but not for trout equipment, or vice versa. That is the way it goes. And that creates a cultural landscape that isn’t homogenous.

Having a relationship with fly fishing entails having a relationship with fly fishing gear. It all depends on the individual angler and his or her particular brand of fishing. At the end of the day we each get to live with that tension, and figure out the right place for each one of us within it. An old fly rod might be a fine decoration, or it might be enough for fishing.

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This article originally appeared as Is an Old Fly Rod Enough? back in 2016.Revisiting older articles gives me an opportunity to see how my writing has evolved. More than that, it gives me a chance to see how I have grown. This post is a great example of that. Thanks for reading.