The story of the Drifters begins a while ago as a group of weary fly fishermen drank brews around a crackling, evening fire. It had been a great summer day on the water near central Pennsylvania. Laughs were abundant and stars shined.
This group had been fishing together for many years. From our home state to the western waters of Colorado, we had religiously packed up our gear and spent days hunting trout. A great bunch of guys.
Not sure if it was the beer. Well, yea, I’m pretty sure it was the beer – that inspired one of us to say “hey, we need a name for our group!”
It was quiet. Laughs subsided. This was serious.
I’m not 100% positive on who shouted “Drifters” but I liked it. It made sense. We liked drifting to different locales to fish. Drifting is what flies do on or in, the water. We felt like Drifters. We toasted to the new name – which everyone knows makes it official – and it was done.
Then things went a little deeper.
I believe it was Todd, the obvious writer in the group, who smirked a bit in the glow of the flames. He had been thinking about the letters that made up the word drift as he sipped his characteristic flask of scotch, puffing on an aromatic cigar.
“Drift. D-r-i-f-t. Dudes really into finding trout.”
And it was perfect from then on. We were drifters and would be so, from that moment on. A tribe of fishermen in search of trout on a fly. That is how we started and continue to this day, traveling around hunting.
But then someone piped in, “We should have numbers…”
I’ll save that for another post. ~Drifter07