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What a strange and depressing winter this has been. If this were any other year, I’d have lost count the number of times I’d been out ice fishing by now. Between the questionable ice (thin ice scares me half to death, by the way), bow hunting that nearly consumed me until the end of December, and nearly two weeks now of serious illness, I can look back and count the number of times I’ve been on the ice on two hands.

Come to think of it, things don’t look too good for getting out on the ice in February either. The beginning of February traditionally marks the time when my thoughts turn to open-water trout fishing and all of the preparations necessary for the upcoming guiding and fly-fishing season. Just yesterday I remarked to my wife that I’d better sit down in front of the fly tying vise and get to work. Looking through my fly boxes and seeing more foam than flies, it occurred to me that I’d better get cracking and at least begin to entertain thoughts of filling those empty spaces.

Preparing only yourself and your own gear for an upcoming fishing season can be time-consuming enough, and we all know that it’s not without its inevitable expenses. Somewhere along the line during the six years I’ve been instructing and taking others trout fishing, I’ve somehow magically acquired (out of pure necessity of course) more equipment than a well-stocked fly shop. The last time I dared to look, I counted 15 pairs of waders, 14 fly rods and nine fly reels. I won’t even mention the countless fly lines, leaders, tippet spools, gizmos and flies I need to get me through an average season. I think the waders got out of hand because I guided a trio of guys a couple of seasons ago and wouldn’t you know it, they all had the same size feet. The chances of that happening again are pretty slim (I’ll probably win the lottery before it does), but I panicked and it convinced me that I’d better have at least a couple pair in each size. I think I even have a pair in size 16. Hey, the price was right and who knows, maybe one day Sasquatch will come down out of the hills and give fly-fishing a whirl. Talk about slippery slopes. I can only imagine where this line of twisted logic will someday get me.

The simple fact of the matter is I can’t afford to be without this equipment. When folks pay you good money to teach them to fly cast and take them fishing, you’d better have stuff and plenty of it. I recall a day three seasons ago when a client’s reel crapped out. A spindle gear snapped and that baby froze up solid. It’s a good thing I always carry a spare reel in the back of my vest for such emergencies. You should’ve seen the guy’s face when I whipped out that back-up reel and quickly swapped it out with the bad one. This potentially disastrous situation set us back no more than three minutes. I argue that what might be construed as reckless spending is actually attentive and careful planning that increases tips. The way I look at it, as long as I continue to take care of all of this stuff and keep guiding for the next, oh, 47 years, it’ll all but pay for itself.

Too bad life can’t imitate art. It’d be pretty handy if that old Jedi mind trick actually worked. I could mysteriously wave my hand in front of Su’s face and hypnotically tell her,“You don’t need to see Dan’s fishing equipment…This equipment is no concern of yours…It’s not the equipment you’re looking for…He can go about his business…Move along.”

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