As time goes by in my fly fishing endeavors, the more I
find myself really de-evolving as far as equipment goes.
The “Neanderthal” herein being myself, not anybody else,
since I’m speaking solely to hear myself talk now.
Oh sure, I could be just bellyaching about being po’, but
that’s only part of the story. I think being a Yuffie
(that’s a Young Urban Financial Failure) has actually
accentuated my devotion to the primitive movement. Besides,
I still enjoy bamboo rods the most, which while classical,
are no longer minimalistic.
I mean, I fly fish because I enjoy it, right? I don’t
need a lot to make me happy. Yet I find, in the last
few weeks, that I am fishing my five-weight rod even
when I shouldn’t be, when a larger line or even a
smaller line would be better suited for the application
at hand.
Why then? It’s not so much the rod, as the reel. Yes, my
five-weight line is on a Medalist 1494, and I simply
adore it. It’s not even a USA-made Medalist, it’s just
a Medalist I picked up a couple years ago for some
forgotten reason.
Shoot me, but I like the sound of it. I’m not worried
about spooking fish anyway, I’m fishing bass and bluegill
for cryin’ out loud. I like the click. I have an Okuma
large arbor reel and it doesn’t click. I miss the click,
so I fish my Pflueger Medalist because it satisfies my
click desires, whatever Freudian reasons may lurk within.
One day I had a malfunction on another brand of reel and
was left without the ability to use the rod I wanted. I
could have simply switched spools if I had kept up the
de-evolution solution, but no, I had to switch rods. If,
on the other hand, I had two reels and enough spools to
accommodate all my line size needs, I’d always have a
backup, right? So I am going to convert all my reels to
Medalists and happily click my way into fly-fishing nirvana.
Two hundred buck Battenkills large arbors? I could buy ten
Medalists. Besides, they look far better on bamboo than
space-age designed, modern-material reels.
Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not going to automatic reels
like my dad and I fished when I was a kid. That’s not Neanderthal,
that’s art deco. And I’m not knocking anybody’s choice in tackle,
to be certain.
When I went to Montana, a buddy of mine tagged along at
my invitation. He wasn’t a fly angler but was interested
in trying it, so I sent him to Uptown Angler in New Orleans
to get a rig. He came back with a brand new Sage and a
Battenkill reel and we took off into his back yard for
me to teach him to cast it.
Let me tell you, I was quite happy to hand him off the
rod as soon as I could. Oh, it was a fine-casting instrument,
no doubt about it, but I couldn’t feel it in my hand. It was
like casting a feather, and I realize that this has many
advantages, but you know, I really miss heft in a rod. I’m
not talking about arm-breaking, joint-wearing, muscle-tearing
old nine-and-a-half foot ten-weight Montagues here. But I like
to feel something in a rod, some little reassuring weight that
let’s me know it’s real, not my imagination. The Sage my friend
bought was a darned fine rod, but I was never really sure if I
had cast it or not.
In the same vein, I had been wanting a seven-and-a-half foot
four-, or better yet, five-weight for close work on the lake
and in narrow canals. I coulda spent a bundle on it, for a
Yuffie, but I decided to risk a meal at the casino café for
me and my girl, and bought a thirty buck Purist for my birthday
present (thank you, thank you, it was Oct. 10, don’t ask my age…
okay, I’m 41, please don’t laugh!) What I found was that I liked
it. Didn’t compare to my friend’s virtually nonexistent Sage as
a casting tool, of course, and the point is, I didn’t expect it
too. I got my Granger for celestial casting! It’s all about
expectations, isn’t it? What you want to get from your fishing.
It’s fishing, after all.
Don’t think I’m taking a minimalistic attitude for some
holier-than-thou reason. I don’t mind how much money other
people spend on tackle, and I don’t mind knowing that their
high-power five hundred dollar rod might outcast mine like
there’s no tomorrow. But I have just found, I guess, that
I don’t need to worry about it.
The only exception remains bamboo. My bamboo rods still cost
a bit, of course, but then, bamboo is sort of a neo-minimalistic
thing. It’s like antique Coke machines someone threw out to
the dump are worth thousands of dollars as living room decorations.
Go figure. As least I can catch fish with my bamboo rods. Most
antique Coke machines don’t even give you a Coke.
I don’t tie leaders. I spend two bucks for knot-less leaders
from - brace yourself - Bass Pro Shops. Horrors! Suit me just
fine, but gets expensive. So I’m going to de-evolve again and
invest in a couple of furled leaders and a couple spools of
tippet. Back to basics, yet again.
It’s fishing, for Pete’s sake.
Point? Well, I’m just not worried anymore that I can’t cast
an entire line. Used to bother me, now I really don’t give a
rip. What do I need to fish ninety feet away for? I couldn’t
see a fluorescent glow-in-the-dark deer hair popper at ninety
feet, much less a strike. I’m not complaining that my turnover
and presentation isn’t delicate enough. I’m not fussing about
my rods breaking every other trip, or the noise my Medalist
makes (such a nice sound!)
I’m not that great a caster anyway. I get the job done. Nothing
elegant about it. I don’t cast like I’m painting the Sistine
Chapel, I’m more of an impressionist caster. I ain’t even Picasso,
and by the way, it’s just fishing.
So while I am delighted others can afford five hundred dollar
rods and high-dollar reels, please don’t look down your nose
at us Neanderthals. We’re just having a good time, maybe even
as good as you are! That’s what really bugs some high-end
tackle-buyers, I think: The idea that the guy with a hundred
buck Redington and a twenty buck Medalist might be having as
much fun as he is.
But after a devilishly hot summer, low water levels across
most of my waters until two hurricanes came by for tea, I
don’t get to fish much these days anyway, and that’s about
as minimalistic as it gets, ain’t it? ~ Roger
It’s out! And available now! You can be one of the
first to own a copy of Roger’s book. Native Waters: A
Few Moments in a Small Wooden Boat
Order it now from
www.iuniverse.com, Amazon.com,
or Barnes & Noble.com.
Roger will also be giving away three autographed copies to
readers. Stay tuned, for an announcement on the Bulletin
Board on that soon.
Originally published November 7, 2005 on Fly Anglers Online by Roger Rohrbeck.