bamboo fly rods

Is The Modern Bamboo Fly Rod’s Biggest Enemy The Modern Bamboo Fly Rod Buyer? (An Underground Semi-Rant)

March 26, 2010, by 22 comments

If we really needed further proof that bamboo rod makers are borderline OCD sufferers technically insane, we bring you YouTube video of Chris Raine’s new computer-controlled, wholly hand-machined, completely over-the-top bamboo fly rod mill – in its first pass (at this point, it’s shaping the delrin cutting bed).

I’ve been watching this beast take shape for upwards of a year in Chris’ shop.

Frankly, I’m a little afraid of the thing; I stand in the other corner when I visit.

If you know Raine, you know he’s a lifetime member of the Anything Worth Doing is Worth Overdoing School of Insane Behavior, and this is only the latest manifestation.

It’s likely his bamboo rod mill and a handful of cockroaches would be the only thing in Dunsmuir to survive a direct tactical nuclear strike, and yet I’ve heard him state – without a hint of irony – that he’d really like to beef the thing up.

How do you “beef up” something already more massive than a woolly mammoth?

Raine’s continuing to build fly rods the “old fashioned way” (and teach classes) while he puts the finishing touches on The Beast, though he’s also building some new style binder that looks like it was stolen from the drive train of an Abrams tank.

(Crazy, it seems, tends to spread quickly over the whole shop.)

The impetus for this rant was an email suggesting a bamboo rod built on a mill wasn’t a “real” bamboo fly rod at all.

If it wasn’t hand planed, then it just wasn’t real.

Hand-planing a rod offers satisfaction and a pleasing connection with the bamboo, but even those that like the process will admit it’s hard work and the BFI part of the job (brute force and ignorance).

And yes, the time invested in hand planing a rod makes it hard to experiment with new rod tapers.

And before anybody chimes in to champion the concept of “nostalgia” or “tradition” in connection with hand-planed rods, I’d like to say that almost all the old bamboo rods – including the vaunted Paynes, Leonards, etc – were built on mills of some sort.

I wouldn’t hesitate to buy a modern fly rod tapered on a mill, though plenty of bamboo snobs have expressed reservations about that.

It’s one of the things that leads me to believe the bamboo fly rod world’s biggest enemies are some of the people in the bamboo fly rod world – people who would rather we worshiped bamboo fly rods instead of fished them.

After all, I’ve seen bamboo rod builders – including Jimmy Reams, whose fly rods should be shot into space so aliens will mistakenly believe we’re a tasteful, elegant species – accused of “not being ‘real’ bamboo rod builders” because they don’t fab their own ferrules or reel seats.

That’s like suggesting I’m not a “real” writer because I didn’t code my text processor (Komodo Edit).

The case for “real” lies in the words or the fly rods, not in the tools, and while fly fishermen have a deserved reputation for being insufferable snots (me included), reality probably really has to kick in at some point.

I could also rant on about those who insist a bamboo rod isn’t really a bamboo rod if its wraps are nylon instead of silk; its guides are ceramic instead of agate; or the rod bag wasn’t sewn by a virgin (a hard thing in California).

But I won’t.

I will, however, offer a rare celebrity endorsement of my position; in an interview with John Gierach, he told me he still fishes bamboo about 85% of the time, but has drifted away from the bamboo rod scene largely because of the people who populate it.

“I’d go to a gathering and see these guys bragging about their $3000 fly rods, but I couldn’t help but notice most couldn’t actually cast the things, let alone fish them.”

Frankly, I’d love to see a machine-planed fly rod brand created in the image of Bill Phillipson’s rods – excellent fishing tools that didn’t cost the arm you cast them with.

Given the high-dollar prices charged for mass-produced graphite, I wonder if the time isn’t right for a new mass-produced bamboo rod. After all, almost nothing fishes smaller streams better than bamboo, and enough people are fishing small streams that I’m using psuedonyms instead of stream names.

It’s likely that investment in machinery would never be repaid, but if you can’t wish for the impossible, well hell – there’s little reason to write your own fly fishing blog.

Viva the Modern Bamboo Fly Rod – no matter how it’s built.

The Fly Rod ‘O Rama (or, Dragging Out The Fly Rods – And Their Memories)

March 15, 2010, by 11 comments

The Rod ‘O Rama is a fly fishing staple – an afternoon where pretty much every fly rod you own ends up leaning against something in the back yard, lines strung, loops formed, actions evaluated.

Fly rods

A stack of fly rods leaning against the rail - the inevitable result of a Rod 'O Rama

Naturally, a good Rod ‘O Rama involves more than one person, and in extreme circumstances, disagreements over rod action or desirability may be settled with dueling pistols.

Mostly, a simple “you’re a clueless bastard” is enough.

During a really epic Rod ‘O Rama, you can dig out rods you haven’t seen in years (I don’t want to own any rods I haven’t fished in years, but have to admit I do), and – in rare instances – you may unearth fly rods you forgot you owned.

In this case, I found two rods I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen before, though I finally solved the mystery on one.

It was a Raine bamboo rod tube containing a butt and mid, but – puzzlingly – no tips.

It was a model I’d never owned, but realized later he’d grabbed it out of his shop by accident when we went fishing last fall, borrowed my spare rod that day, and then forgot to retrieve the tube from my truck.

I’m wondering what a reasonable ransom looks like.

The Theme of The Day: 6 WTs

A Rod ‘O Rama theme is useful, and in this instance, Older Bro was loooking for a 6wt, which means he got to cast everything from an decades-old Orvis Superfine 6wt to sweet 14 year-old Sage DS – right up to Raine’s saltwater 6wt and the high-tech Orvis Hydros that replaced my much-missed Zero Gravity.

Initially, you try to limit the madness to one type of rod, but eventually the words “if you like that, you’ll love my XXXX” are heard, and suddenly, you’re casting four and five weights too.

Before it’s over, you’ve got everything from a 60 year-old Phillipson to a two-month-old graphite leaning against the rail – every one of which is loaded with some kind of memory.

You find yourself ankle-deep in the snow still covering the yard, false casting a fly rod, adjusting the loop size, and the memory of a rainy day on a lake washes over you.

You may or may not remember how cold and wet you were, but you do remember dropping the rod in the shallow water because you were holding a 17″ rainbow, and that its strawberry lateral line lit up the rainy, monochromatic, steel-grey environment you’d come to accept as normal.

Later, I found myself casting a 7.5′ 5wt Fenwick glass rod – the factory equivalent to my first fly rod, one I built in the mid-70s from a blank.

While the original rod met its end in a Santa Clara garage, the replacement feels similar enough that casting it reminded me of the bluegills and crappie I caught from a muddy, weedy lake better than 30 years ago.

Putting Them Away… Sorta

Ultimately, Older Bro’ found a rod he liked, and since I had a similar rod, sent him home with it.

Yet, when I put all the rod tubes away, I noticed a few – like the Fenwick – ended up a little closer to the front of the pile.

It’s not spring yet – there’s still snow on the ground and the alpine trails are months away from opening – but we’re seeing the signs.

The blue jays who nest under the front eaves came back today, and temperatures could run into the upper 50s all week.

So while I can’t fish the small streams yet (not legally), I can set aside a few rods that haven’t been fished in a while, and imagine creating new memories with them over the coming season.

See you when the streams open, Tom Chandler.

Fly Fishing the BWO Hatch When You Haven’t Fly Fished a BWO Hatch in a Year (or, Ouch)

November 30, 2009, by 13 comments

The bugs had just started and a few trout were rising, and it was suddenly very clear I’d spent most of my summer fly fishing small streams.

Well, somebody caught something. I just wasn't me...

Well, somebody caught something. It just wasn't me...

Fishing a small stream is gratifying, but it’s not the best preparation for throwing #22 emergers at very spooky trout – which tend to stop rising whenever you wade closer than 35′.

In other words, I was rusty.

Rusty enough that I got a little cranky with myself on the water.

That’s a bad thing, because when I’m cranky, I start cataloging my fly fishing failures, and under the impetus of an admittedly self-critical nature, that list can grow very long.

Wrong flies. Out of 6x. Every cast eight inches short. Not sneaky enough. Not piling enough tippet for a good drift. Not focused. Bad karma from prior lifetime.

It can get a little weighty at a moment in your life when a little confidence is a real asset.

The Code

Sometimes, you never do crack the code, and the bugs stop appearing and the fish stop rising, and you stand hip-deep in seriously freezing cold water and wonder why you took up this sport in the first place.

Other times you change one simple thing: tippet, fly, more reach in the cast – and the whole experience resolves itself right in front of your eyes, and the trout do their part by eating the fly.

It’s either the way things are supposed to work, or pure magic.

When that does happen, you tend to forget the first half hour or so; that stretch where some apparently immature fly fisherman would be tempted to imitate his new daughter by stamping his wading boots and whining.

(Thank goodness that doesn’t apply to you or me.)

In this case, I sorta cracked it. Barely.

Well, not really.

I was able to get fish to eat, though before it all came together, I had one actually come up under my bug while aiming for the natural right behind it.

My simply too-big #18 parachute simply slid off his broad back, and I simply stood there wondering at the unfairness of it all.

The answer, of course, is that fairness isn’t a concept often adhered to in nature, and it wasn’t the trout’s fault I was stinking the place up.

The Ugly Reality

Chris Raine – who was ironically fishing my backup rod (an 8.5′ Raine prototype) because he’d grabbed the wrong rod tube on the way out of the shop – landed two nice fish.

Sure, his fish, but MY fly rod. I claim at least half of the trout's 15 inches

Naturally, I claimed ownership of half of both trout, suggesting it was a fool’s tax for grabbing the wrong rod (an obvious symptom of advancing age).

Just as naturally, he replied with a rude gesture.

I fished an 8.5′ Jim Reams hollowbuilt (a rod I love dearly for its smooth nature, but may sell because I’m not nearly caster enough to enjoy the taper when the bugs are on the water and I get impatient and start driving casts).

I had a total of four grabs, one brief hookup, one driven-by-frustration hookset (broke him off), and missed the other two on general principle.

In other words, I kinda sucked, and because I was preoccupied with rising fish, I can’t even save this fishing report with a handful of good pictures.

It was the kind of day that shows you brief flashes of promise, yet reminds you that you’re not nearly as good at this (or most other things) as your daydreams suggest you are.

Or more accurately, I’m not always as good at this as I was on the one day I did it all perfectly – a day which somehow becomes our benchmark for normalcy, which is self-deception raised to a high art.

While I’ll eventually adjust to the demands of the BWO hatch (I’m stocking up on #20 Roy Palm biot-bodied soft hackle emergers), I’ll also embrace the concept of letting the trout win the day without assuming I’ve lost my marbles.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

2009 Great Western Bamboo Rod Makers Gathering October 30, 31

September 25, 2009, by 2 comments

Local bamboo fly rod builder Chris Raine is holding yet another Great Western Bamboo Rod Makers Gathering, and if your tastes run to bamboo fly rods, smoked ribs and crowds of cranky, badly-in-need-of-fiber bamboo fly rod builders, then you know where you’ll be on October 30, 31.

This, Undergrounders, is your chance to fondle, cast, and fall in love with a bamboo fly rod you can’t possibly afford, and that you do so against the backdrop of the October Caddis hatch should make for a few interesting discussions around the dinner table (but honey, all the other guys are doing it…).

Test casting a bamboo fly rod at a previous Gathering (this ain't Raine)

Test casting a bamboo fly rod at a previous Great Western Gathering

In his typically flowery, detailed writing style, Raine gets the details down (Chris, we love ya, but try using an adjective every once in a while):

Save this date:  October 30 and 31.  Friday night at Raine Hollowbuilt Fly Rods.  Saturday morning at the Community Building next to the Ball Field.  Saturday evening at the Lions Club, next door to the Community Building.

Friday evening will be smoked ribs and chicken, along with some beans.

Saturday meals will be on your own.  Coffee and pastries in the AM.

No notice posted yet on Raine’s rod building blog, but expect something soon.

Are Those Bamboo Tent Poles In Your Pocket, Or Are You Sustainable?

August 12, 2009, by 7 comments

We’re all about “green” here (our name probably should be the “The Extreme Sustainability Underground”), so when somebody comes up with a harebrained use for bamboo (which grows really, really fast), we’re duty bound to report it.

Bamboo tent poles

That’s why these bamboo tent poles caught our eye – especially since they’re being aimed at the ultralight backpacking crowd, who – believe me – make fly fishermen look like dilettantes when it comes to gear.

From the Gear Junkie:

The plan is to bank on a bamboo variety called Tonkin cane, which is sometimes dubbed “steel bamboo” for its dense fibers and long sections between nodes. Working with an Alaskan fly rod maker, NEMO’s prototype poles — which I handled and flexed at a recent press meeting — click together like any typical tent pole and whisk into nylon sleeves to support a shelter that might be put to endure hurricane-force winds.

But initial tests at NEMO (www.nemoequipment.com) give bamboo a green light for its strength and performance under pressure. “The benefits of bamboo are that it is lightweight, flexible and highly elastic,” wrote Kate Ketschek, the company’s director of marketing, in an email interview. “Fishermen have been using bamboo for its strength and flexibility for over 100 years and NEMO believes that these benefits will correlate with the essential properties of tent poles.”

Note the use of Tonkin Cane in the tent poles – the same bamboo used to make bamboo fly rods.

Note also the fact that the bamboo pieces are hollowbuilt, though I don’t know if they’ve got dams in them or are hollow from tip to butt.

See you setting up the tent, Tom Chandler

The Alpine Small Stream/Brown Trout/Mosquito Fly Fishing Report (in Pictures)

June 22, 2009, by 18 comments

My last small-stream fly fishing trip unfolded without a camera, so this, time I’m doubling up on the photographs. (See? The Underground takes care of its readers.)

The catch? I’m too busy to write a lengthy report (like last time I skipped out and ran to Stream X). Instead, I’ll hit the highlights in between the pictures.

Spring Creek? Brown Trout? Dry Flies? Sign me up.

Stream X is a small, alpine spring creek, and it’s the kind of place the enforces a certain intimacy between the fly fisherman and the trout.

It’s nicely populated with wild brown trout (and the odd rainbow & Brookie), but features rough roads and enough mosquitoes to suggest the existence of a vengeful god.

Like all small streams, the trout aren’t particularly selective, but they are damned spooky, and this – simply put – is not the best stream for a novice, but I brought my relatively new-to-fly-fishing brother there anyway (suggesting the existence of a vengeful brother, bent on payback for the emotionally scarring cherry incident of my childhood).

Think sneaky. Sneaky is good.

Think sneaky. Sneaky is good.

Unlike my last visit, the stream was running at normal levels, but the weather was eerily similar; it started raining the minute we arrived (after a lot of bouncing around on some auto-unfriendly roads), and alternated rain and sun all day.

It was also colder than I would have guessed, and once again, the Patagonia soft shell jacket proved the perfect jacket for the gig – a good lesson in packing, since I’d almost left it behind (it’s summer after all).

In fact, fingerless gloves wouldn’t have been out of place.

Welcome to the mountains.

Predictably, the early bite was slow. Equally predictably, the early scenery was stunning.

Even when the trout arent eating, the scenerys working.

Even when the trout aren't eating, the scenery's working.

The Fishy Stuff

Later – as it warmed a bit – the bite got a little better. In the afternoon, there was even the hint of a small mayfly hatch, and (gasp) rising trout.

Almost everything you catch is a brown trout, which range wildly in coloration. Some are a burnt-butter brown while others feature a lighter, milky yellow color, and still others offer a golden metallic sheen.

Some brown trout look like golden butter - their scales would look perfect on a stack of pancakes.

Some feature slightly washed colors, others offer up bright red dotted flanks that – if found on a painting – would lead a non-fisherman to accuse the artist of artistic license.

Im ready for my closeup now.

"I'm ready for my closeup now."

Is he giving me the fin?

Is he giving me the fin?

Every once in a while, you also come across a Brook trout (the Official Char of the Trout Underground), and yes, the Underground’s veins fill with naturally produced chemical pleasure at the sight of the Brookie, and I’m not even sure why. Maybe it’s the colors.

Underground Fave Char: the happy pappa shows off his Brookie

Underground Fave Char: the happy pappa shows off his Brookie

Why so many colors? The Brook trout continues to impress.

Why so many colors? The Brook trout continues to impress.

The Non-Trout Stuff

The first couple hours found us catching one trout each (it picked up later, and we ended up with 10 between us). Which means we had plenty of time to marvel at other things, including a couple close encounters with deer, and even a very low flying eagle.

Then there was the stuff that wouldn’t run away when you found it, including:

My brother identified this as Columbine. Its pretty.

My brother identified this as Columbine. It's pretty.

Proof of rain?

Proof of rain?

Hes hairy, and hes cool.

He's hairy, and he's cool.

We found one of these- an olive stonefly

We found one of these- an olive stonefly

The Hard Facts About the Fly Fishing

The fishing itself wasn’t what most would call “technical,” though when you find yourself crawling towards a ten inch fish on your hands and knees – and trying to thread a backcast through a narrow hole behind you – the fishing’s plenty technical enough.

These aren’t world-weary tailwater trout, habituated to the presence of humans or sophisticated flies.

Instead, these are trout as god intended – hungry, aggressive, but wholly intolerant of a sloppy, lazy predator. Trout darting to safety from under your feet is a common sight, yet despite a fair number of fly changes, I settled on a simple Beetle Bug attractor for most of the day.

This time, I also toted along a rod nicely suited to the fish and the waters – an 8′ 5wt Phillipson Peerless bamboo fly rod.

Underground Fave: The reddish-brown impregnated Phillipsons look stunning against spring green.

Underground Fave: The reddish-brown impregnated Phillipsons look stunning against spring green.

It’s a rod that gets fished, and fished hard (as Bill Phillipson intended), and yes, I think little’s harder on a fly rod than a wet, brush & tree-choked environment

Somebody, somewhere is wincing, but this is what it looks like after I released a nice brown.

Somebody out there is wincing, but this remained after I released a nice brown.

The fishing was slow at first, then gradually built over the day to the point where about half the really good looking spots seemed to hold a trout.

Nicely illustrating the concept of good and evil, the mosquitoes also built as the day progressed, and while I didn’t do for the garment what the Buff Babe did, I wore a Buff like a balaclava, protecting my neck and cheeks from the evil, bloodsucking Nestle bugs mosquitoes.

I may be back later this week.

Hint: Theres a decent brown trout in the middle.

Hint: There's a decent brown trout in the middle.

See you on a small stream, Tom Chandler.

Has the “John Gierach/George Maurer” Lost Bamboo Fly Rod Finally Been Found?

April 14, 2009, by 14 comments

Hardcore John Gierach fans will remember his “Lost Rod” essay from Another Lousy Day in Paradise, where Gierach discovers a package containing a bamboo fly rod built by uber-builder George Maurer arrived sans the rod itself. From Gierach’s essay:

“It took a few seconds to sink in, but, sure enough, one end of the tube had been opened neatly with a sharp knife and there was nothing inside. It wasn’t a mistake and it wasn’t a joke. Maurer’s sense of humor is a little odd, but he wouldn’t do something like that.”

Later in his essay, Gierach says:

“I had thing for this rod because it had spoken to me, and because the one that had been in the now-empty shipping tube was serial number 001 of a model George calls the Trout Bum, an allusion to some old fishing book.

“So I stood on the porch, looking down into the empty tube, and after those few initial moments of disbelief, my first rational thought was, this was bound to happen.”

It’s a typically engrossing Gierach essay, and having worked with George Maurer on his rod-building Web site, I discovered exactly what Gierach meant about Maurer’s sense of humor.

A pair of George Maurer bamboo fly rods

A pair of George Maurer bamboo fly rods

Still, I admit to being surprised when I received an email from a man who said he had Gierach’s lost Maurer fly rod in his possession, and that he intended to auction it off to support Intermountain – a Montana children’s charity.

From his email:

A friend bought a container full of lost items from UPS and it was in there (at least 15 years ago). This friend gave the rod to his son after he learned to fly fish, but the son died in a car accident before he ever used it. The father gave it to a mutual friend – the man who taught the boy how to fly fish.

After some research, the new owner contacted Gierach to give him his famous rod, but Gierach said my friend should keep it since his friend technically paid for it.

My friend even has a letter signed by Gierach stating that he is, indeed, the rightful owner. The serial number is 001, and it’s still never been used. My friend has given it to me, or more appropriately to the charity I work for. He wants us to auction it off, with all of the proceeds going toward saving abused and neglected children.

I live in Western Montana, among some of the greatest trout streams in the World, and the current owner is the consummate fly fisherman, who also lives in this area. He already has a semi-parabolic bamboo rod that he loves, so he has no use for this rod other than for stories, which will no doubt be enhanced when he is able to add that the rod he once owned literally saved the lives of children.

Full disclosure: I haven’t seen a photograph of the rod or any evidence of the letter mentioned above, but the whole story seems plausible enough to be the real thing. I’ll continue checking as I have the opportunity.

Still, has Gierach’s lost fly rod been found? And is it about to come to market a year after Underground Fave builder George Maurer’s unexpected death?

George Maurer inspecting bamboo in China

George Maurer inspecting bamboo in China

Perhaps. And yes, I’m tempted to cast this story in terms of one of fly fishing’s most-interesting literary mysteries – involving a famous writer and one of its most-famous bamboo rod builders – finally being put to rest.

And one wonders what price the rod might bring at auction. Any guesses from the Undergrounders?

More as it happens from the Trout Underground’s Breaking Bamboo-Related News Division.

Is That a Bamboo Fly Pole In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy to Write About Me?

November 6, 2008, by 12 comments

At the Underground, we positively live for those moments when a small, local newspaper paper butchers a fly fishing related story.

Over the years, we’ve been subjected to countless “The First Time I Went Fly Fishing” stories at the hands of writers who clearly shouldn’t have gone (they can’t all be Freemans, sadly), but our favorite – nay, the very cherry on top of the reportage sundae – is the story about a local bamboo fly rod builder.

The Oregon Statesman Journal sent a reporter to interview bamboo rod builder Daryll Whitehead, who didn’t survive even the first line before being unfortunately described as the “Michelangelo of bamboo fly rods.“

Ouch.

The story doesn’t progress beyond the third sentence before we’re staggered by the Second Wince-Inducing Editorial Moment: The Dreaded Fly “Pole” Syndrome:

From a small home-based shop in west Stayton, Whitehead crafts some of
the most sought-after fishing poles in the world. His D.L. Whitehead
poles are sold on most continents and can fetch nearly $4,000 for a
used one.

Throughout the article, the writer goes on to use the “p***” word 11 times (fly fishing decency standards forbid me from printing the word again), perhaps a new editorial record.

The Underground sends our condolences to Mr. Whitehead – along with our hopes for a speedy recovery.

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Fly Fishing Stream X: A Trip in One Picture

October 2, 2008, by 3 comments

Because I played hookey and went fly fishing, I’m behind in my vowel and consonant quota. A full report after I catch up, but for now, here’s an image of the day’s basic building blocks:

Rainy day dry fly fishing on a sweet bamboo fly rod.

Rainy day dry fly fishing on a sweet bamboo fly rod.

Top Bamboo Fly Rod Makers Not Feeling Recession’s Effects

September 8, 2008, by 10 comments

While the mortgage and (now) looming credit crisis is driving most slackers Undergrounders to the edge of the bankruptcy abyss, it seems sales of bamboo fly rods remain strong – at least for top builders.

Bamboo fly rod
Bamboo fly rods seem to be defying the economy.

The Boston Globe published a story about Per Branden where the writer – who was clearly not familiar with fly fishing at all – noted Branden no longer accepts orders for his hollowbuilt bamboo fly rods.

My favorite interview moment? When the interviewer repeatedly refers to Branden’s “bamboo fly poles.” (Where’s the super slo-mo of Branden’s face when you really need it?)

Also on the “not accepting orders list” is Colorado’s Mike Clark (the oft-mentioned builder in Gierach’s essays), who has frozen his list at five years, and though he’s still building, he wants to clear away some of the orders before taking more.

Wondering if I was seeing a trend, or merely a statistical fluke, I started calling some builders.

Hollowbuilding maestro James Reams (his rod profiled on the Underground here) – suggested he’s also turning over the idea of a freeze on rod orders (though his waiting list is at three years and for now, he’s still taking orders).

Even one-time Reams protege and hollowbuilder Chris Raine is only beginning to dig out from under a pile of rod orders which backed up when he suffered a few health issues.

“People are calling and asking about hollowbuilt bamboo fly rods because they’re traditional bamboo rods, but they cast and fish better” said Raine.

Rodbuilding legend AJ Thramer has also not seen a dip in orders: “Everything I build, I sell, so I’ve stopped worrying about the order book. Literally as fast as I can make them, they’re gone. The dealers keep saying “I need more, I need more.”

Interestingly, the fraction of AJ’s orders for his more-expensive hollowbuilt rods continues to climb – he now estimates that as many as 70% of his rod orders are hollowbuilts.

He’s also received requests for a higher-end Thramer rod: “I think it’s mostly collectors” he said.

Arizona bamboo rod builder Mike Shays has seen a recent upsurge in rod orders, and said “I really do think people are looking for high-end rods. I think people are afraid of buying cheap rods.”

Shay’s waiting list is also about three years.

Sure, the statistical sample is small, but the evidence seems clear; bamboo rods – at least those from top builders – are looking pretty recession proof.

Sure, the long-term sales cycle might be helping in this case, but if anything, the rodmakers report receiving more orders this year than last.

Still, lest you think these guys are raking in oil-company level profits, do the math in your head, and you’ll see it’s possible to make a living, but almost no one’s getting rich building bamboo fly rods.

Thramer summed it up beautifully when he said “Rod building is an honest poverty – hopefully you leave behind a trail of smiling people.”

I’m traveling to the Fly Fishing Retailer show in Denver next week; anyone want to take odds I hear a different story from most of the non bamboo-related fly fishing industry?

See you cutting bamboo stalks, Tom Chandler.

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