Pennsylvania Angler & Boater - November/December 2020 - 49

The fishing hat is trusted with blocking the sun, staving off the cold, repelling
the rain, displaying fishing licenses, holding tackle, or drying flies.

The trout fishing Stetson evolved into a museum of
memories. Upon milestones in life or on the water, meaningful
flies retire to a life of leisure along its leather strap stitched
above the brim. I find all patterns can be pinned into three
categories, each fly telling its own story.

Remarkable firsts

A ragged Pheasant-Tail Nymph I clumsily crafted when
I was 16 years old is proudly tucked in the middle. Not
only is the weathered brown bug the first fly I ever tied
behind the vise, it is the fly that tricked my first trout on a
fly rod. Appropriately, the nymph is
surrounded by firsts of my children.
There are the pair of patterns
connecting my daughter's first fish (a
sunfish set off by a Beadhead Pheasant
Tail) and my son's first fish (a Bluegill
royally submitted to a Prince Nymph).
Many years and tangles later, the flies
my children landed their first trout on
a fly rod are sunk into the threads. My
daughter selected the most sparkly pink
egg pattern in my box. My son wrestled
his first fly rod trout with a white
Woolly Bugger.

The pair of exotic beetles also seem out of place
in Pennsylvania. When I acquired these flies, I
was out of the country. During the magical time
between marriage and parenthood, my wife and
I backpacked through Europe. Nearing the finish
line of our month-long expedition, we relaxed
in the Czech Republic. Feeling like a couple of
bugs who had just crawled through six foreign
countries, I bought the beetles in a European
bait shop to commemorate our adventure. They
remain the only flies on the hat that neither swam
nor caught a fish.
One of the greatest fishing trips of my life was
when Dad and his three sons headed west the
summer I graduated college. Not only did the
pattern, a Stimulator, ride the currents of the great
western rivers Yellowstone, Colorado, and Green.
The fly brought together fish with men and men
with family.

Sentimental gifts

A Patriot, the aptly named dry fly of red, white, and blue,
has waved atop my fishing hat like an American flag since it
was given to me shortly after September 11, 2001. The brother
who introduced me to fly fishing was destined to miss a few
trout seasons to defend our freedoms. In his absence, a little
brother became an angler. The fly salutes this chapter of life.
Reflecting upon these weathered hats, the brim still has
ample room for more memories-maybe big fish, bigger
adventures, faraway places uncharted, or family unborn. The
best fishing hat keeps not only the sun and weather out but
holds in the stories.

Special places

The fly that stands out and received
the most questions is the crab imitation.
This pattern pinched a task from my
bucket list. Suntanned hands checked
off the bonefish, shortly after they
fought a fine specimen in the crystal
clear flats of the Bahamas. Best of all, my
Angler preference in headwear varies as widely as the styles.
wife was present for the experience.
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Pennsylvania Angler & Boater - November/December 2020

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