‘FLASKS! A LI’L NIP HERE, A TINY DRINK THERE...'

“Whiskey in a flask is my all-season, all-terrain vice.” - Unknown

                  

          Ahhhh... the timeless stainless whiskey flask; while some perceive it to be a drunkard's accessory, that ain't hardly fair... to the container or the carrier. Most flasks don't hold enough liquor to get really drunk on; just enough for a toast amogst a few friends or for just a li'l discreet sippin'. A fishin' buddy of mine carries his in his tackle box, sandwiched between a couple of freezer packs to keep it cool. He says a sip here and there helps him unwind durin' a day on the river; plus, he adds... you can't never tell when you might need a li'l nip.

That reminds me of the fella what ran out of worms one day while Bass fishin’ down on the other side of Atlanta. About that time, he spotted him a Cottonmouth snake closeby, with a frog in its mouth. Now, that frog was just the kind of bait that feller was a needin’ to keep on fishin’, so… knowin’ the snake couldn't bite him with the frog in its mouth, he grabbed that ol’ snake right behind the head, took the frog out of it’s mouth, and tossed it in his bait bucket.

Now, though, he had him a dilemma; how was he gonna let loose of that snake without getting’ bit? Well, it didn’t take him just a second a’fore he had that ‘un figured out. That feller pulled out the whiskey flask he kept in his tackle box, unscrewed it’s top, and poured a swig of JACK DANIELS whiskey down in its mouth. Well now, that ol’ snake’s eyes rolled back in his head, and the damn thing went plumb limp. The fella then slid the snake back into the lake with no problem, and went right back to fishin’, usin’ that frog for bait.
It t’weren’t but just a little while later, though, the fella felt him a nudge on his foot. Can you believe it? That fella looked down to find that damn snake back… with two more frogs.

Seriously, though, totin’ a whiskey flask has been a tradition among outdoorsmen for more than a century, making flasks great commemorative items for your huntin’ and fishin’ and campin’ buddies; one they’ll apprectiate and actually use for years to come.

Back years ago, I presented a life-long huntin’ and fishin’ buddy of mine with his very own stainless steel flask as a wedding gift. I’d had his name engraved on it and filled it with 12-year-old Scotch, which, along with another’s flask full of straight moonshine, sure come in handy the day of his wedding, when a sudden cold snap put a chilly twist on their mountain-top, outdoor spring nuptials. To say he was pleased with his gift is an understatement. And I’ve since shared a sip out of it while standin’ waist-deep in the Hiwassee River on a freezin’ December day, as snow swirled all around and ice clogged our fishin’ rod guides.

Now, just to set the record straight, what a fella puts in his flask is a matter of personal taste and choice. There ain’t no right or wrong liquor to use. Heck… it you prefer sweet tea, then I reckon that’d be just as acceptable (Just please don’t put lemon in it if’n you’re gonna offer this ol’ boy a snort). Take ‘Doc’, for instance, one of my huntin’ and fishin’ buddies. He keeps 20+-year-old GENTLEMAN JACK in his, where another friend of ours won’t tote nothin’ but Canadian whisky in his. And then there’s a third crony of ours, who we’ve shared camps with for years. He swears by his WILD TURKEY 101.

Also, most flasks end up personalized in one way or another. I’ve seen ‘em stamped, engraved, marked up in all kinds of ways; with pictures around the sides and even with leather ‘skins’ or coverings over the lower half of ‘em. As a matter of fact, I recently saw a firefighter friend’s flask that he’d adorned with his department’s patch embossed on the side. Regardless of what it looks like or what you carry in it, though, it’s all about makin’ it yours.

I myself have an old flask; a plain-jane model with a finish that’s kind of dulled with age. It sports a couple of small dents that I have no recollection of exactly how they got there. I’ve had the thing for a long time; many, many years. It generally stays in the side pocket of my ol’ backpack, always close to-hand, and always filled with GEORGE DICKEL White Label. It goes most everywhere with me. To me, there’s nothin’ finer or smoother than Tennessee sippin’ whiskey for warmin’ a man’s innards on a cold day on the water or afield or for celebratin’ an outdoor accomplishment, such as the catch of an exceptional fish.

Plus, once back in-camp of an evenin’, while sittin’ around a toasty warm fire, enjoyin’ good company, with a full moon overhead; out comes that ol’ flask of mine to be passed around for a final salute to a great day.