The Things I Carry
How a fly fisherman chooses to carry all the crap needed to get on the water is a personal choice that borders the philosophical. You’ve got your vest traditionalists, backpack adventurers, lumbar pack aficionados, sling pack rebels, chest pack futurists, and those who prefer some combination of things outside the narrow field of fly fishing companies. I’ve known anglers who fish photographers vests, people that use mountain bike hydration packs, and even some who use old military-issued packs and tac-vests because they know the layout of the pockets cold.
The way I see it, three principles matter in this choice and the order of ranking changes from person to person. The thing has to be comfortable. No one wants to be on the water for hours at a time with a sore back, chafing shoulders or neck, or a pack that keeps slipping down our asses. The thing has to be durable. Let’s face it, anglers are hard on their gear and the environments we find ourselves in are not the most forgiving. Blackberries, rain, wind, sun, sand, mud, salt, rocks, snow, ice, dunks in rivers, tosses into trucks and trunks all wear and tear on gear. Depending on how much they fish, the expected life of the gear varies. However, given that these things cost money, we all expect at least four good seasons out of the damn things no matter how you define a season. Finally, the thing has to be efficient. Pocket access and layout, adaptability, application across different kinds of fishing (river, lake, surf, small stream, etc.) means whatever we’re using needs to meet multiple demands. These things carry the scars and stories of fishing trips. They are individualized with patches and duct tape and stains. In the end, a good bag or vest becomes just as much a part of the angler as the rod.
Over the years, I’ve more-or-less tried them all. I first used an old photographer’s vest my grandfather gave me when I was a kid. That lasted for a while. Then, I went the lumbar pack route. I followed that up with the old mountain bike hydration pack, then military issued pack, then Simms sling pack, Fishpond sling pack, waterproof back pack, back to the lumbar. They’ve all had their place and served their use. They all ended their service honorably. If you can’t tell from this list, I am hard on my gear. I also place a premium on efficiency meaning that, while some of theses packs weren’t completely ruined when retired, my preferences for fishing styles changed and the packs were not up to the task at hand. Of all the things I’ve carried, the Fishpond Thunderhead backpack and the Fishpond sling pack have been around the longest.
Both have their shortcomings. The thunderhead is a pain to get in and out of on a long day of changing flies. I generally don’t like to toss a fly box down the front of my waders and when wet-wading, the problem gets more pronounced. The sling pack is shit in the rain, gets soaked when crossing rivers that are more than belly-button deep, and doesn’t carry as much on long days when layers and rain gear and lunch matter. I do like that the Thunderhead is hunter’s orange which has certainly stopped me from getting shot more times than I am aware of. In the grand scheme of things, both bags do enough things well enough that they’ve stayed around but in reality both lack in the efficiency, at least for my tastes. As such, I’ve been on the lookout for a new bag for some time. But that’s not the whole of the story.
Recently, I cracked and bought Fishpond’s new Ridgeline Tech Pack—a vest backpack combo they came out with in 2023. The vest in this setup mean more ease of access for my fly boxes, tippet, and other crap while the backpack and net carrying options are superior to both the sling pack and Thunderhead. This new system basically combines the best of vests and backpacks while cutting down on weight and increasing comfort. The only drawback is waterproofing but I can overcome that with a simple NRS dry bag for things I don’t want to get wet. I’ve fished the thing a few times already. It’s the best pack I’ve ever owned. I suppose, though, the thing I like the most about the change is I am more streamlined now. I have to be more deliberate with my choices, especially if I want to keep my zero-to-fishing timetable reasonable. Most important, though, is the realization of image and freedom.
See, when I think about my fishing packs beyond their context, I am struck at how remarkably free those choices have been from the baggage of other choices. Durability. Efficiency. Comfort. That’s all I care about. Truth be told, I have a bag obsession. It’s an addiction, really. I blame the 90s—that era of Jansport canvas backpacks that made all the cool kids seem so much cooler. I was not one of those kids. My parents never made much money and whatever little remained at the end of the month was damn sure not going to a fashionable backpack a rough and ready kid like myself would surely destroy in a few months. No. I carried my things in always cheap, never durable bags that were easy to replace and gave no thought to comfort, style, or coolness. When I left home and had a steady, government supplied paycheck I started buying up all kinds of bags. Maybe this was me making up for lost time, searching for cool, carrying scars I didn’t realize I had. I don’t know. What I do know is right now I have six different bags for every day carry—from backpacks to messenger bags. I have used them all to carry around books, paper, journals, pencils, pens, laptop, camera, lunches, gym clothes, and anything else that might not fit in my pockets. Of course, I haven’t needed to carry books and laptop and papers around for some time now, but I keep these bags around anyhow.
With fishing packs, though, things are different. Nothing moves the needle except comfort and durability and efficiency and that makes me realize the cruelty of adolescence and a culture built on image purchase. To me, everything out of doors has always meant freedom from the crowd which makes fishing a special kind of freedom. I don’t go to the river to be seen. I go to disappear. It is one of the few places where I know I belong, where leaving is always hard and gets harder every time. I go because out there what matters most is what ought to matter most for living well: considered, deliberate, focussed movement where the stakes are immediate and what you carry speaks to vitality.
I know I’ll probably have to get a new system when I am done beating hell out of the tech pack, when this new Fishpond bag has seen one too many truck bed rides and blackberry patches. But at least I’ll be choosing the things I carry for reasons, reasons that never took stock of image in the first place. And, in a world soaked by the plasticity of image, I can only see carrying less of that as a good thing.
