When you see such a venerable Compagny as the one old Charles Orvis founded back in 1856 in quite a decent street of Manchester, Vermont, starting to communicate ghetto-style, with the graphic vocabulary of our reckless youth, with the codes of postmodern urban life, and on top of that there’s no fish in sight on a fishing film festival poster, when you see that, you know that something is really on the move in the sport. This time it’s called Down the Hatch.

We are at it since forever. And we like that.