The rite of passage for a Willits man..

I have been meaning to post these photos for a few days but it is amazing how quick time goes by.  

Matthew requested a Fly rod for his birthday.  Mike learned well from his grandpa Clair...he said "use the kid to get new stuff!"  Nothing makes me happier than to see life come back around.  Mike and Clair bonded well over thin pieces of bamboo and graphite all build for a specific fish in mind.  

To Mike a Fly Rod is not just an ordinary pole(he would never call it that anyway) It is magic. It is how a grandfather teaches his grandson about true conservation of the earth.  It is a way to spend the day in solitude with someone you care about and yet say very few words.  

Oh no, a rod is not just a rod..if put in the right hands "Willits' hands" it becomes a fish slayer.  Before we moved to Minnesota, I would have just said a trout slayer.  Mike has made it clear that bass should fear the Willits men too. 

It is a magic stick that can take you back in time.  It can jog your memory back to that moment you caught your first fish, fished Belt Creek the first time with your grandpa, spent your whole summer fishing...your best summer of your life.  When you hold it in your hands you can feel history.  

Like the history of you...getting your first rod.

And then learning all about it.  

I suppose that you never forget your first one.  After all, you now have a history with it. 

Matthew decided to use his birthday money from Grandma Dot to buy a reel for it.  I would imagine that Grandpa Clair would be smiling down on him for this choice.

And so begins the life of a fly fisherman... and his collection.  

I would not have it any other way.