I love fly shops. In fact, the genesis of this website had a lot to do with my love of fly shops. But that story is for another day. The fly shop is the quintessential embodiment of fly fishing culture. Generally they are located near water that is productive enough to warrant a full-time local retail option. The people employed usually are passionate about the sport, and hopefully personable. There is also the stereotypical aesthetic: the huge rod rack, mounted fish from an era when it was appropriate, walls with a dizzying array of tying materials, and probably a dog. It is a form that is recognizable from coast to coast.

The first shop that I fell in love with was a Sports Authority.

Yes, the Sports Authority. In Sterling, Virginia, circa the mid-1990’s. I had just got into fishing with conventional tackle, and this department store supplied me with all the soft plastics, jig heads, and monofilament I needed. I’d hang out in the fishing section every week, looking at crankbaits and handling reels. I got to know the employees that manned the outdoors department.

Within a few years of the start of my fishing career, fly fishing was introduced to me. I bought my first fly rod and reel at Sports Authority. A Crystal River combo. I loved fly fishing, but didn’t see it as anything but a trout-centric pursuit. So I continued to frequent the outdoors department, chatting with the guys and buying a lure here and there – mixing some wooly buggers and Adams in as needed.

It wasn’t the fly selection or technical gear available that brought me back to the store over and over. The men that worked there weren’t fly fishermen, and looking back they probably just knew enough to get by. But they took time to talk with me. They were friendly, helpful, and genuine. I only ever had a few dollars to spend – my biggest expense was a pair of canvas Hodgeman wading boots. But I looked forward to heading to the back corner of the store, to browse the tackle and talk to the guys.

As a teenager, that wasn’t always the experience I got when going into fly shops. A few times, some reputable shops didn’t give me the light of day. Eyes were rolled when I asked to cast rods, and hands were waved in the general direction of bins when I inquired what flies were working. My favorite grumpy old fly shop purveyor was the king of the cold shoulder. I wasn’t (and, still am not) a high roller, but I had some disposable income, I feel like I was pleasant enough, and I was hungry to learn. A friend and I stopped in, and I was in the market for a saltwater reel. Upon stepping through the door, the bells at the hinge jingled. He peeked out of his office and became dispirited when he saw it was the “four flies in a plastic cup” demographic. The employee at the counter was much more gracious. She started up conversation, and happily showed me some reels. Until grumpy called her away. We stood there for a minute, looked at each other, and then walked out. That week, I used eBay to buy fishing gear for the first time. A Teton saltwater reel at a great price.

When I was working at a fly shop, I loved spending time with curious customers. Sure, there was the occasional encounter that was a bit taxing or the meticulous shopper that stepped in around 8:55pm. By and large, customer interactions were the highlight of the day. Did it mean making a commission? Yes, but some of the multiple rod/reel buyers made you work for it. A mom and son coming in to buy a handful of flies never translated into a bump in the paycheck, but it was a cool chance to share some knowledge and develop a young angler. Then there were the middle aged men who saw A River Runs Through It and were interested in looking like Brad Pitt (no one ever wanted to look like Craig Sheffer). Upon seeing that such a loadout would set them back the same as an economy subcompact, it was a fun challenge to help them find an entry level rod and explain how wicker creels weren’t as necessary as one might think.

The time that the men at the Sports Authority spent with me was so much more valuable than name brand anything or pro staff status. What the sport of fly fishing, and the threatened resource of cold water fisheries, needs is people. The fish don’t care about graphite modulus count or the logo on the shirt. The fish and the future are dependent on more active and engaged anglers.

As I became more involved with fly fishing, and maybe more uppity about it, I moved on from the Sports Authority. I found some great fly shops with knowledgeable and customer service driven owners and employees. But would I have taken the steps I did without those first points of contact while I was in my angling infancy? Who knows – but that is the way that it happened.

Just like trout are part of an ecosystem where even the seemingly insignificant organisms and stream features are integral to the life of the network, the culture of fly fishing is made up of many parts. There are some that seem a bit more honorable than others, but each and every one has a part to play. Sometimes, the parts that just love being on the stream without pretense and attitude can be the most valuable. Even if that means all they sell is rods with plastic reel seats and flies with red tags coming off the body.