On Monday, I had just scrambled up what may have been the most ridiculously steep and brushy slope I’d ever hunted, to pick my way through tangled brush, to get to within 30 yards of a trio of bucks. I glassed them from the opposite side of a cut in the ridge I wasn’t sure was passible. I made it and the bucks were still there. I repositioned to clear my shot of a branch and a doe I hadn’t seen popped up and blew the whole program.
Today I bought a suit. On sale. Online. How’s that for a day making a difference?
I owned a suit, then grew out of it and never bothered to replace it when I moved back to Alaska. Who needs one, right?
Well, I know better. First of all, men’s magazines state that a suit is something every man should own. And I don’t disagree, but there is the perception that suit ownership is a requirement in order to achieve true manhood and if it’s tailor made, that indicates refinement.
Not true, but there are moments that require them, like being an usher your cousin’s wedding in Washington, D.C. — a long way from the land of XtraTufs, even if they are of the formal variety.
I know no one will really care because who takes note of an usher unless my attire were to scream, “I’m from an island in Alaska, you’ve seen the shows,” but that would just be selfish.
Anyway, so I bought a suit on sale which is totally not a big deal, but not something you necessarily broadcast. Surely, there will be some who believe the suit a man owns says a lot about him, financially, stylistically or otherwise. I wonder what message I’ll unknowingly send, especially if people knew I bought my suit online. (Don’t tell anyone.)
I then realized the first thing I do when I see someone with a fly rod is size up the rod, then the reel.
Temple Fork Outfitters? Ah, this guy is just getting started and wants a good rod for an affordable price. That was me. We could be friends.
Sage? Premium. This girl knows what she’s doing.
The interesting thing about a premium rod in the hands of a dude, is that you wonder if the dude is trying to buy fish. You know, if you look like a fly fishing model, that means you’re put together, the fish will have to obey because you dropped $1,500 on a rod and reel combo of the highest order. Kinda like, “Hey, this is the finest Italian wool, polyester is for posers, and look at this stitching …”
The thing about an expensive fly rod is that if you haven’t spent time with starter and middle-of-the-road rods, you don’t know enough to appreciate the nuance of a better rod. You haven’t developed a casting style which makes you appreciate a Winston rather than a Sage, just like I wouldn’t appreciate the drape of a sewed interlining.
I’m sure there will be someone who might size up my suit or shoes like I might judge someone on the river, but we are where we are for the same reason. Whether you’re there to watch your cousin get married or at the river trying for trout, you’re there to have fun and how someone came about their gear shouldn’t matter that much.
So, what does my suit say about me? Who cares really. Different circles have different values and uniformity, in most cases, is the key to boredom.
However, if I were to write my version of what a man should own, a premium salmon/steelhead rod and a premium trout rod — both used frequently — would be near the top. Along with a good set of hunting boots to make it up crazy slopes while procuring meat for the freezer.
• Jeff Lund is a writer and teacher based in Ketchikan. “I Went To The Woods,” a reference to Henry David Thoreau, appears in Outdoors twice a month.
