It’s not a store-bought Duluth pack, very much like one though, heavy canvas, wide padded tump line, leather shoulder straps, leather straps with copper buckles, for closing the pack, transparent map case on the outside edge of the flap top. It was custom-made, for a king’s ransom.
First trip in its new use, I had my then seven-year-old daughter take a black magic marker and write the lake, the date, and the permit entry number on the inside of the flap. Today you can still read the lake and the date; the rest has faded gently away over time.
To say it’s been well used would certainly be an understatement. I’ve packed it, carried it, and emptied it for so many years; it’s still in impeccable condition. I waterproof it annually, clean and wash it after each and every trip we take it on.
I eyeball the sewing for any loose stitchery, none noted, not once, it was produced by one who knew of such things. Back then, quality wasn’t negotiated; it was what everyone was doing, the best they could, from carving out an axe handle on the family’s farm to a handshake at the bank for a loan.
No signature, just both parties’ honest words. I miss those days, and I hold and care for the pack dearly because of it.
--The trout whisperer
