This begs a question, Spence. Why do you carry so many fly boxes?:)
You figure this one out Kurt, you win a prize! :) I'm still trying to impliment a plan that Gonzo was nice enough to offer up in an attemp to spare the back...I'm going to get there I promise!
Sometimes this match the hatch thing can be carried a bit too far, especially if you are fond of tying...My guide friend Jimmy is always barking from the back of the boat, "Hey Spence. When you going to tie on and toss those "experimental" flies you've been carrying around for the last decade?!" I always tell him, "Those are situational flies waiting for a situation." ;)
I hope that brings a smile to your face Kurt...I know Tim's shaking his head at this point and probably mumbling under his breath, "This boy is incorrigible! He's fished the Au Sable enough to get over this...Something should of rubbed off from fishing for so long with them Grayling boys!"
I will admit that I remember my mentor telling me at the start to tie the flies you fish and don't get carried away...Easier said than done.
I know that I put this post under the "fly tying" section, but I really didn't mean this as a discussion of the good old Robert's Drake, but a gesture, in public, of thanks for the thoughtfulness of Tim's tutoring.
I have mentioned it before that I first ran in to Tim's flies in 1991. I was standing inside Caid's store in Lovell's near the North Branch of the Au Sable with my curmudgeon of a friend who has fished this river since a pre-teen. I can count on less than one hand the times I've ever heard him say anything nice about someone else's flies. He had one of Tim's in his hand and was examining it closely and said, "Spence. These are some nicely tied flies." He then proceded to tell me about the ones that were the old traditional Au Sable flies...Borcher's, Robert's Drake, Harris Special, etc.
Caid's used to have this cool old wooden box on the counter with a sliding glass door. The top was cut at an angle so you could look in and all the cubby-holes were filled with flies. There was a tiny sign next to it that said, "Flies tied by Tim Neal"...That was it.
I know I over romantize, and the grump calls me Mr. Lore, but if these memories aren't tucked away somewhere, the early mornings hunting with my grandfather in the 60's, the crisp early mornings standing knee deep in a stream filled with anticipation, the squeeky noise from an old wooden hardware floor where grandpa purchased my hunting license and a box of .410 shells for me, the bark of our beagle as she first entered the woods,and staring in to a display case filled with wonderful flies, well...I just don't know then, what the hell we are doing here, or what any of this is actually worth. I'm invested in this life and these recollections simply because they mean eveything to me.
Spence