The Drift: How Much Does Good Gear Matter?

I’ve had more gear reviews than usual on my plate lately, which I’m not complaining about. It means that gear is more top-of-mind than usual for me, especially as summer winds down and we start planing for holiday gift guides and the like.

As I’ve fished with different rods, reels, and lines, laced up new wading boots, and slipped into waders, I’ve found myself asking one question: is any of this gear making a difference on the water?

Waders and boots certainly do. Great wading boots help you feel stable and comfortable, even in challenging wading conditions. Well-built waders will move with you as you scramble around deadfall or sidle along drop-offs.

On the other hand, I remember being a teenager who couldn’t afford waders. I wet-waded everywhere in a pair of tennis shoes, and I’m sure I fell in a lot, but I mostly remember having fun and catching fish.

And as for fly rods—one of the best anglers I know fishes the same Cabela’s Three Forks 9′ 5-weight he’s had for over 20 years, and he does it with a Shakespeare knockoff of the Pflueger Medalist. I’ve watched him land a 27-inch rainbow on the Fryingpan River with that setup.

My buddy Alex, with whom I fish the most these days, uses a rod and reel combo that retails for $225. He regularly out-fishes me, even when I string up one of my Winstons.

As for the rest of fly fishing’s accoutrements—nippers, pliers, fly boxes, indicators, split shot, floatant, polarized sunglasses, lucky hats—it’s all so peripheral I doubt anyone can make the case that those items are the make-or-break between catching fish and getting skunked.

We put so much attention on our rods, reels, waders, and boots, and for good reason. They’re the most-used and abused items in our arsenal. But how much do they actually matter when it comes to catching fish?

I’ve been fly fishing for 20 years, and I’m no expert. I can read water, find fish, match the hatch, and tie up flies that work well enough, but I frequently flub casts, work through water too quickly, spook fish, and I try to compensate poor casting technique with brute force. In short, I still have plenty to learn.

So, as I work to learn and improve my skills, how much does the gear I use matter? Am I going to learn more quickly because I’m fishing with a Winston instead of an Echo? Or that I’m wearing Skwala waders instead of whatever I found at my local big-box retailer?

Probably not, honestly.

Good gear does make a difference, but it’s often rooted in our comfort and in cultivating our preferred experience on the water. I could fish the same blue-winged olive hatch on the Bighorn with my Douglas LRS and probably do just as well as if I’d fished it with my Winston Air 2. I pick the Winston because of the intangibles that draw each of us to our preferred rods—the feel, the crisp way it moves fly line, the satisfying bend deep into the cork—but it’s not making me a better angler.

I’m not telling anyone their gear doesn’t matter, or isn’t good. I don’t think I’m even coming to some sort of “revolutionary” conclusion here. Instead, I’m realizing how little gear actually matters when you get down to the business of catching trout on a fly rod.

After all, if the late John Gierach and AK Best were so effective on bamboo rods (many of which are considered “middling” by today’s collectors), do we really need anything different?

It’s something to think about, at the very least.