...And I'm a Gear Whore.

At left, an overloaded  jingle truck in Afghanistan courtesy US DOD. Thanks to all who did time in outer shitland. The Soviets loved the place. Shows you that travel agents the worlds over lie like cheap rugs.

To borrow from AA:

My name is Spike, and I'm a gear whore.
<Hi Spike>.

OK. Not very socially conscious, there. Fine, I'm an unlicensed gear therapist. 

I fight it every day. Somewhere deep in my subconscious lies a horrid concept that if I have the magic fly, just the right line, the best reel, and the fully-loaded slingbelly asspack, then I will have everything I need to land the monster trout.

I've been in running water screwing with gear and watched a monster rainbow swim past my leg.

Worse,

I've identified the perfect lie. I've rigged four different flies and made twenty casts only to wander on thirty yards to have a guy in a drift boat float by and pull a 20" trout from exactly where I was thrashing (last year, in fact).

It isn't the gear.

I've ditched a vest because I found myself wondering if I could put a twelve pack in the game pocket (yes - stack them three-on-three).

I've gone from a vest to a large hip bag to a smaller, simpler model to self-limit my gear.

I've room for a pint beer can, a bullet thermos of coffee (Thanks Oracle!), a water bottle, and a nice lunch. Oh, and everything I need in the field including a leatherman, fire kit, emergency reserve field papers, and field wound dressings for punctures and lacerations.

I find myself looking at Vedavoo's backpack. Lusting.

I think if I have a backpack then I can carry the Stanley field-grade coffee system. Yea. Coffee system.

That's the clue, isn't it? 

"System."

I try to leave and they keep pulling me back. (Godfather, Part III).




Now, fresh brewed coffee after a couple hours in the water any morning sounds nice. [ Great Video, by the way. We need this guy in the Amber Liquid Anglers.]

Fire would be easy in a solo stove - link over on the right. Oh, fire. That opens some possibilities.

Hot lunch and the solo stove and just a small 7" cast iron pan for sausages in one of those near cooler-grade lunch bags and then a couple refill beers - because it is a backpack - and then maybe one of those fold-up sleeping bag mats for a nap in the sun ....or a hammock! Yes, a little hammock to hang by the river and nap until the hatch and - oh - bug spray. Field glasses. That'd help spot the hatch. Maybe a Griffin 2A vise and I could whip up some spiders in the meantime ...

See where it goes?

I don't know why this happens.

I'm fine in a shirt with two pockets. I can stick hemostats and the tag end of my lanyard with nippers in one, my day box in the other. I'm good. I can clip water to my wading belt if required. I've got a decent knife in my pocket (always).

But it creeps back in when we're weak.

Look - a monocular (which is much smaller than field glasses). Maybe one of those plastic screw-cap cigar tubes - or a roll-up pipe bag in a gallon plastic baggie!

There's no cure. It is a day-at-a-time-disease.

What do you call a cured gear whore? 

No one knows. No one's ever met one.

If you see me fondling a collapsible wading staff/cook-fire tripod/gaff/frog-gig, please stop me.

Remind me that more than two flies on a line are sure to tangle and a man can only use one rod and one reel and one line at a time - and that one set will do for five of  seven days on the water.

I've already got the gear for the other thirteen days of the week.

I'd love to hear of the least used piece of kit you are habituated to carrying on the water. I've a nice whetstone. No, I've never stopped to put an edge on a blade mid-wade.

I could though.

What's your useless gear that gets hauled on the stream? You can tell me.

I'm a unlicensed gear therapist.

Prost.