My first key chain came from Cabela’s. It was a Royal Wulff dry fly encased in an oval of resin. It accompanied the two or three keys I needed at the end of high school and beginning of college. It met its untimely demise when I threw my keys out of frustration after blowing out two tires on a rainy night in Columbia, SC. I replaced it with a tiny red Swiss Army Knife, complete with Orvis logo on one side.
It wasn’t a fly, but it was fly fishing.
Every sport and hobby has knickknacks. People like little to surround themselves with things that remind them of what they love. For whatever reason, fly fishing has more than most. Perhaps it is the nature of the pursuit. It is equal parts tangible, artistic, and nostalgic. Put those together and you’re going to get stuff. Some of it is worthless junk, others find their way into treasured keepsake status. Add in a little function, such as the ability to attach to keys, and the allure intensifies.
Why?
My first key chains were ways to keep fly fishing close. I could be sitting in class or in traffic, and that little dry fly was a visual link to the river. Over the years I’ve accumulated mugs, figurines, signs, and jewelry. I have a belt buckle that features an angler landing a rainbow trout. I have a small banner that reads “a fisherman lives here with the catch of his life.” I have a Lego minifigure holding an appropriately sized fishing rod.
Gifts because people know I’m a fly fisherman. Stuff from grandpa’s closet. Impulse buys at the fly shop. Sometimes I wonder what they were/I was thinking. Often that is the case. Sometimes it’s a winner.
I find myself gravitating towards the subtle. While my brook trout printed belt gets a lot of play when I’m untucked, I usually go to the bison leather belt when I’m a little more put together. It has no hint of fish to it, but it is made by folks who fish. I like stickers – my cooler is covered in all manner of gaudy ones – but the car gets fish silhouettes. Maybe other people notice. My intention isn’t to be a billboard (certainly not when I’m parked stream side). If so, it is a fun little connection. If not, I still notice. Truth be told, I do it for my own enjoyment anyway.
Things are just things. Still, things can represent something. Things do represent something. While you’re sitting at your desk, the little things give you a moment of escapism. Socks, pint glasses, earrings, custom licence plates: they don’t get you on the water. But they get part of you on the water. And fifteen bucks? That is worth it.
Sitting on the office chair. Eyes on the trout tchotchke. Heart on the wild river.
Pictured above: Gear from Sight Line Provisions, Vedavoo, & Whiskey Leatherworks.