Made in the USA

In my 9-5 day to day world I work in sales, focused on the manufacturing industry.  I get to work with some really cool companies that do their engineering and manufacturing here in the States. Knowing that my fly tying savings are tied to the American manufacturing industry, I try to ensure that I buy from my customers as much as I can.  

As the US economy fights it's way back, more and more Made in the USA tags are showing up on shelves and across the internet.  New products, high quality, unique products, gifts, apparel and soft goods.  The outdoor and fly fishing industries are no different and in a lot of ways, seemingly leading the way.  

 

One of those companies is Vedavoo.  Scott Hunter is kicking out some sweet packs, made to fit the needs of fly fisherman everywhere.  He started with a sewing machine, busted his a** and a company was born.  Their motto is "Build Better Gear" and it seems they're doing just that.  Props to Scott for making it happen.  Head on over to his shop and give his stuff a look.  The brand name bags are nice, but lack a soul.  Don't get me wrong I've got plenty of the name brand stuff, but this has a story and a name tied to it.  It's worth a few extra bucks to know the sweat that goes in to each product and the guy who stands behind it.  

VEDAVOO

 

Another company - Shinola Detroit is using the backdrop of Detroit and all it's automotive history to break through with some awesome American Made products.  From bikes to footballs, desk organizers to varsity jackets.  They're even handbuilding watches and showing how the US can be a player in the watch market.  One of the coolest parts is they bring you in on how the products are made and where the products come from.  American Made is a commitment and not easy.  But it offers a bit of extra pride in both the craftsman and consumer knowing someone took the time to do something by hand, making every one a bit different, but always to the highest standard.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Check out their story here:

SHINOLA

20 Years Later

I consider myself very lucky.  Maybe not one of the few, as I figure there's probably lots of guys that grew up like I did.  But I, like many, would likely say they have the greatest dad in the world.

He may occasionally mistake a Cy Young pitcher for Don Mattingly, but otherwise my dad is a sports geek, with an encyclopedic level of baseball knowledge.  He taught me from a young age how to throw, hit and play ball.  He taught me how to take a wrist shot and slap shot and played goalie on the porch while I fired street hockey balls at him.  He was always there for me for a game of catch or anything else I ever needed.  

I just found out on Tuesday that I won a trip to Fenway Park for Derek Jeter's last game through a sales contest at work.  When I learned of the trip I instantly remembered conversations my father and I had when I was thirteen, as he pitched baseballs to me into the darkness, trying to help me hone my swing.  We dreamed of driving to Cooperstown, NY and visiting the Hall of Fame, stopping along the way to visit all the best ball parks and watch our beloved White Sox.  

My dad coached most of my baseball teams growing up, from T-Ball up to high school, travel and house leagues.  He came to most every one of my college hockey games, traveling the Midwest from Champaign, IL to Ohio to Michigan.  He taught me that a 3 hour drive is nothing for something you love.  Or someone.  

When I learned of the trip I dreamt of what it would be like to call my dad and tell him that I was able to do it with hard work, the way he taught me.  And the only person I could ever imagine there with me was him.   Getting to ask him and his immediate yes, made us both as excited as I expected.  As we get ready for the trip I can't help but think back to a lot of the memories we've been able to share, even as I've gotten older.  My passion for fly fishing has rubbed off on him and he's working on polishing his casting stroke for trips to come.  He's had success and is always more than happy just to be spending the day on the water.  We've had guides look at us like we were crazy when we said we just care about having fun, not how many or how large a fish we catch.  It's the time that matters more than anything.  It may sound corny, but to this day I live by two quotes my dad said to teams he coached when I was young - "Never say die!" and "Grape or Cherry Snow Cones?"  We never give up and battle until the end.  We never know what may be behind the next bend, or when the pitcher might hang another curveball.  And in the end, no matter the outcome, there's only so much you can control - grape or cherry?

 

"That Guy"

As fly fisherman, we rely on access to the waters we love, in order to pursue the fish within them.  But often times that access is taken for granted and treated with less than the respect it's owed.  It's not always fly fisherman - I've found plenty of worm buckets, plastic stick bait bags, beer cans, even a few random shoes here and there.  (How does one lose a shoe?  Why not both?)  But either way, when we as fisherman take something for granted, can we get mad if it's taken away?  If we don't respect the land and the land owners, how can we be mad when they cut off access to their property?  Even something as simple as a gate being left open can cause a lot of extra work for a farmer if his cattle get out.  

I bring this up for a reason.  This past weekend while gearing up to fish a public stretch of water, I was approached at my car.  The gentleman, who couldn't have been a day over 19, decided he was going to take it upon himself to ensure I followed the rules he would be establishing for me.

"You fishin' here?" he asked.  

"Yes, sir." I replied.  "Soon as the rain passes, I'm planning on fishing this stretch right here, just up to the pasture fence."

"Well, it's a**holes like you that make all us farmers hate fisherman.  You really ruin it for everyone.  You know the farmer over there is 90 years old and a**holes like you are going to kill him.  You leave gates open, leave trash all over the banks and generally treat the land like sh*t."

I looked at him stunned.  To be honest, I'd never fished this high up on the river, never stepped foot in the pasture and hadn't even planned on fishing anywhere near a gate, or the other farmers field.  It was a stretch of thatch, weeds and roots.  

"Well, I apologize for the inconvenience other fisherman may have caused you, but I can promise you won't have that with me.  I'm not planning on crossing in to that farmers field and always pack out what I take in.  So you won't have to worry there."  I replied.  

"It's public land so there really ain't sh*t I can do about it.  But, watch yourself.  If you leave those gates open, or cross the fence in to that field walking out, I'll shoot ya."

I looked at him dumbfounded.  Seriously, is that what these people have driven you to?  

"Alright, a cars coming.  I gotta go and get out of his way.  Just know, I'll find you."  he said, and drove away.  

Seconds after he drove away it started raining again.  The sky opened and it rained for about twenty minutes.  I sat in my car drinking a Spotted Cow wondering how a nineteen year old kid can be so angry with a bunch of guys waving sticks in the air with fake bugs attached to the end, only to catch and then release the prize they so covet.  

It's not the first time I've had my life threatened, probably won't be my last.  But after climbing through the gate and trudging through the thicket, my desire to fish was gone.  I was angry that enough people had so little concern for others that it drove this kid to hate an entire demographic of people.  

I found a spot where things opened up a bit, sat down and watched a few rising fish for a little while before heading back to the car and then back to camp.  

It seems that in and out of fishing our ability to be empathetic towards others is dwindling.  We as fisherman aren't owed the ability to fish on private property.  If we're going in and creating problems, leaving trash, and lacking a general respect, we should have it taken away.  I try to get out there as much as possible and pump as much money in to their economy as I can.  But if I'm lucky that's maybe 6 weekends in a summer, and a few day trips.  These people live there everyday, and those fields are their offices.  If we can't respect, why should we get to use it?

If you respect their land, respect their property and treat everything as if it were your own, you take a greater pride in it.  Knowing that the better we treat the land, the greater the chance it will be there in the future, how can we not want to treat it with care, keep it cleaner and help the people who make it possible?