What’s in your vest?

Ask any fly fisherperson to empty their vest, and you'll discover an archaeological record of their angling life, their psychological state, and - not uncommonly - their increasing detachment from reality. What begins as a sensible collection of fishing essentials inevitably devolves into a portable junk drawer that would baffle anyone with even a casual relationship to organizational logic. After twenty years of accumulation without a single comprehensive cleaning, my vest has achieved a level of chaos that would fascinate anthropologists. Let me conduct an inventory, pocket by pocket, item by item.

Flies (approximately 6,000)

The reason we're all here. Dry flies, nymphs, streamers, emergers, terrestrials, and experimental abominations I tied at 3:25AM after watching YouTube videos. They're organized using a system I called "intuitive" when I created it but which now resembles a filing system designed by raccoons. I have thirty (… forty?) elk hair caddis in size 16, but, naturally, when I need a size 16 elk hair caddis, I can't find one.

Leaders

Multiple lengths, multiple weights, all tangled into a Gordian knot of monofilament that would take a team of engineers to unravel. I carry 7.5-foot, 9-foot, 12-foot, and one I think might be 15-foot but could also be two leaders that have achieved sentience and fused together. I will use exactly one of these all season.

Tippet spools (eight)

I have 0X, 1X, 2X, 3X, 4X, 5X, 6X, 7X and what I believe is either 8X or possibly dental floss. There's also fluorocarbon that cost more than my first car and regular nylon that works exactly as well but doesn't make me feel as sophisticated. The fluorocarbon promises to be invisible to fish, which seems to be working because I also can't see where I put it half the time. At least three of these spools are down to the last six inches of material but remain in the vest because throwing things away is not something the vest wants.

Nippers

Sharp ones for cutting tippet - with precision. Price: $149 (and please, no raised eyebrows - those $1.99 drug store models are designed for clipping toenails(!) These are attached to a zinger that retracts them back to my vest with a most satisfying zzzzzzzip! sound that never gets old (zinger: $49). Shut up.

Hemostats

For removing hooks from fish mouths and occasionally from my fingers. They also work great for clamping things, grabbing things, and looking professional while doing none of the above.

Strike indicators

Little foam things that tell you when a fish has taken your nymph underwater. I have approximately fifty of these despite the fact that I could use the same one for an entire season. They're in every pocket, stuck to every surface. They reproduce in the dark.

Split shot

Tungsten weights in various sizes to get your fly down where the fish are. I have lost ten thousand of these to the river bottom but somehow still have dozens rattling around in a 35mm film canister from 1987. Yes, a 35mm film canister. Google it.

Floatant

Magical goop that makes flies float through chemistry and optimism. I have four bottles: one nearly full, two completely empty but retained for reasons unclear even to me, and one that leaked and created a pocket of eternal stickiness that now collects lint, stray hairs, and small… things.

Sandwich (partially eaten, era unknown)

I keep meaning to throw it away, but the vest has twenty-six pockets and I can never remember which one contains the biohazard. The last time I spotted it, the bread had the texture of engineered polymer. Maybe a science experiment that will benefit all of humanity? We’ll see.

Fortune Cookies (five)

I don't remember acquiring these or why I thought they belonged in my fishing vest, yet here we are. One says "A pleasant surprise is waiting for you," which I initially found encouraging but now seems like cruel irony given my catch rates. Three are stuck together into a papery mass. One is just blank, which feels ominous.

Toy dinosaur (plastic, approximately two inches tall, species unclear)

I believe this is a velociraptor, though it could be a generic theropod. My nephew gave it to me about 16 years ago, insisting it would bring me luck. It has not brought me luck. The dinosaur has failed its assignment spectacularly, but I cannot abandon it. We're in this together now. That dinosaur also occasionally falls out of my vest at inopportune moments, like when I'm trying to impress another angler with my professionalism.

AAA Battery (single, corroded)

For what? I genuinely have no idea. I don't own any devices that use AAA batteries in connection with fishing. This battery has been here so long it's begun to leak that white crusty substance batteries produce when they're planning their escape. It's probably toxic. It's definitely staying in the vest. I've made peace with this.

Grocery list

Written on a piece of paper in handwriting I don't recognize, requesting items I've never purchased: "arugula, quinoa, that cheese from the place." What place? Whose list is this? Did I steal someone's vest? Am I wearing a stolen vest? All questions that I'm not prepared to answer.

Monopoly house (the green one) and two hotels (red)

The house is green, the hotels are red, and none of them should be here. I haven't played Monopoly in three decades, yet my vest has become a real estate portfolio for Baltic Avenue or some other property of modest value. Somewhere, a family's game night is incomplete, and they're blaming each other, never suspecting that their missing pieces are circumnavigating trout streams on the East coast.

Expired fishing license

From 2014. I keep it for reasons that blur the line between sentimentality and hoarding disorder. That was a good year for fishing, or maybe it was terrible - I honestly can't remember. But the license remains, a bureaucratic artifact nestled among split shot and strike indicators, reminding me that time passes and I still can't organize a vest properly.

Hair tie (aka: scrunchie)

I’m bald. I have no idea whose hair tie this is or how it entered my possession. It's purple. It's been here for at least three years. It has the stretched-out quality of something that has served its purpose and now awaits retirement, but retirement is not a concept my vest acknowledges.

…

I've been asked why I don't simply empty the vest and start fresh with only essential items. The answer is complicated and I sometimes ask myself, is there something comforting about carrying this portable museum of chaos? 

Part of it is superstition… what if I remove the velociraptor and my fishing gets worse?

The real answer speaks to something fundamental about fly fishermen: we're hoarders disguised as sportsmen - and yes, the vest is a mess - but honestly, you never know when you might need a Monopoly hotel. The river is unpredictable that way.

RM