Posts tagged: bamboo fly rod

[Advertisement] Chris Raine Bamboo Fly Rods… Available Immediately

July 21, 2009, by Tom Chandler No comments yet

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Chris Raine Hollowbuilt Bamboo Fly Rods: Rods Available for Immediate Purchase

I’ve been building my hollowbuilt bamboo fly rods two at a time (instead of singly), and have created a small stock of my most popular models – ready for immediate deliver (contact me at 530.235.4058 or chris@hollowbuilt.com for more information)

Model: â€œSimplicityâ€ an 8 Foot Staggered-ferrule 2/2 for a 6 weight. Hollowbuilt. Serial 204hb.

Gold toned cane, triple tempered. Pale yellow translucent wraps on guides with dark brown wraps on ferrules. Reams style grip 5 3/4â€ long. Down-locking slide band reel seat with redwood burl spacer. Blackened ferrules. Linen rod sock with aluminum tube, brass caps. In addition to being hollow built, the ferrule is lower down on the rod, giving an even lighter feel while casting. A fine rod for casting in the wind, while still having the sensitivity of a lighter lined rod. A great candidate for fishing Silver Creek, earlier in the season.
$1495.00 plus tax/shipping

Model: â€œFinâ€ an 8 foot 3 inch 2/2 rod for a 4 weight. Hollowbuilt. Serial number: 201hb.
Gold tone cane, triple tempered. Pale yellow translucent wraps on the guides with dark brown wraps on the blackened, truncated ferrules. Reams grip 6 1/4â€ long with beautiful spalted maple uplocking reel seat. Truly a light in the hand, powerful 4 weight rod capable of throwing 50 plus feet of line effortlessly. A full flexing rod, with the backbone to turn good-sized fish. A bamboo fly rod for the true afficiando! Comes with linen rod sock, aluminum tube with brass caps.
$1995.00 plus tax/shipping

Model: â€œFinâ€ another 8 foot 3 inch 2/2 rod for a 4 weight (as above). Hollowbuilt. Serial number: 200hb.
$1995.00 plus tax/shipping SOLD

Model: â€œUpper Sac Specialâ€ an 8 foot 2/2 for a 5 weight. Hollowbuilt. Serial number: 199hb
A great do-everything trout rod. Gold toned cane, triple tempered. Pale yellow translucent wraps with light brown wraps on bright nickel silver ferrules. Reams style grip 6 1/4â€. Spalted maple slde band uplocking reel seat. Linen rod sock with aluminum tube, brass caps. Excellent choice for a first or do-everything bamboo fly rod. Roll casts with ease, plenty of reserve power when needed and a complete joy to fish!
$1495.00 plus tax/shipping SOLD

Model: â€œAntelope Creekâ€ a 7 foot 2/2 for a Â¾ weight. Hollow built. Serial number: 197hb
The ultimate small stream rod! Gold tone cane, triple tempered. Pale yellow translucent wraps over guides with brown wraps over blackened ferrules. Cigar grip, 5 3/4â€. Upgrades: McCoy agate stripper, and deluxe uplocking slide band reel seat with cork insert, maple spacer. Linen rod sock with aluminum tube, brass caps. A fine rod for smaller streams, and a first choice for alpine brookies. Elegantly appointed, great to look at, even greater to cast!
$1595.00 plus tax/shipping

Model: â€œFinâ€ a special built 8’3″ 3 piece (3/2) for a 3-4 weight! Hollow built. Serial number: 202hb
A real 3 weight over 8 feet, that still has a nice smooth action, with plenty of reserve power! Flame cane, with ammonia toning. Reams grip 6 3/4â€ with uplocking slide band reel seat with redwood spacer. All blackened nickel silver with java brown wraps. Linen rod sock with aluminum tube, brass caps. An elegant rod, with superb casting qualities. Travelling to that special spring creek? This may be the rod to take with you! Aerial mends and light presentations make this rod unique for its length versus line weight. A true joy to cast.
$1995.00 plus tax/shipping

To inquire about any of these rods – or to order another rod from our bamboo fly rod catalog – please contact us at:
Chris Raine
530.235.4058
chris@hollowbuilt.com

Visit my Web site: hollowbuilt.com

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

June 22, 2009, by Tom Chandler 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.

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 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.

"I'm ready for my closeup now."

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

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. It's pretty.

Proof of rain?

He's hairy, and he's cool.

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.

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: 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 Tom Chandler 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

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

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.

The Bamboo Birthday Gift (or, Not What You Think)

April 8, 2009, by Tom Chandler 5 comments

When a fly fisherman says he got bamboo for his birthday, the mind races. Payne? Phillipson?

Or perhaps a modern craftsman? Reams? Thramer? Beasley? Shays? Raine?

Not exactly:

We ask you: Do McGuane or Gierach have one of these?

Yes, my furred friends, the Underground now possesses what few others do: a bamboo keyboard (and a powerful attitude about it).

Clearly – and as fly fishermen everywhere know – bamboo transforms you into a better fly fisherman typist unbearable snob writer.

Do McGuane, Leeson or Gierach have one of these? Are their words flowing organically from its smooth, limber, almost sensuous keys? Or are they stuck writing on stiff, unyielding, too-fast, unnatural synthetic keyboards, their sentences short, quick, efficient – but lacking connection to the primal life force that beats within all of us?

Are they – to put it bluntly – simply muddling by on sheer talent?

Sure, plastic keyboards are great at pumping out words all fast and easy. And yeah, they’re light, so you can type on them all day. But for the sheer joy of writing, nothing compares to bamboo, and if you doubt that for even a second, I can scare up a couple hundred people who will state – in definitive terms (some using physics diagrams as a visual aid) – that bamboo users simply write better.

Emboldened by the varnished, straight-grained goodness beneath my fingers, I’m going a step further, suggesting I might even be better human being than the huddled plastic masses, most of whom probably deserve the carpal tunnel they’re developing from their synthetic keyboards.

Clearly, the scales have simultaneously fallen from my eyes and tipped in my favor. (See what I did there? The bamboo’s already working its magic.)

One day, the world will look back at this moment with reverence, correctly seeing it as a turning point in the literature of fly fishing the world, when the most organic, smooth, flowing writer the world universe had ever seen typed the immortal words:

“It was a dark and stormy morning on the river.”

Winter Midging According to Engle (or, an Underground Thumbs Up)

February 25, 2009, by Tom Chandler 12 comments

Fly fishing writer Ed Engle remains an Underground favorite, largely because he’s a real predator on the water , and his writing is largely free of the ego and artifice that clogs the efforts of so many fly fishing writers.

Fly fishing in Winter His latest column in the Boulder Daily Camera is typically clean and clear, focused as it is on winter midge fishing, a pursuit that – in the style of predators everywhere – Engle’s stripped down to the bare bones:

It may sound strange, but my strategy on these difficult-to-catch fish is dogged simplification. I use a â€œsoftâ€ 9-foot, 5-weight fly rod, a hand-tied 12-foot leader of my own design and a single size 22 or smaller fly pattern that imitates a midge pupa or, less often, some sort of low-riding dry fly or cripple pattern.

I would probably be more successful if I fished a tiny dry fly and trailed the midge pupa imitation behind it because I could use the dry fly as a strike indicator. But I’ve caught enough midging trout using two-fly techniques and it was a good day for me when I finally figured out that what I like most is catching a trout in the most direct way possible.

My most memorable fish have been the ones where there was as little between me and the trout as possible. That means no junk or gizmos attached to the leader other than a single small, unweighted fly that I’ve tied myself and the application of a no-nonsense aesthetically pleasing, but practical, cast.

The icing on the cake is when the trout takes my artificial fly in precisely the same way that it has taken the naturals.

I wish I’d written that.

In truth, this is precisely the kind of fly fishing I thought we’d get when the Upper Sacramento was opened to winter fly fishing.

Oddly – unless I’m completely missing the right time slots – we almost never get fish working midges in the winter, though it’s something we often get in the summer. Go figure.

I’m not complaining about the Upper Sac’s winter BWO hatches: challenging fish, clear water, small “technical” flies, long casts – these are a few of my favorite things (unless I’m doing poorly, when it kinda sucks)

As further proof that Einstein’s theory of relativity applies to fly fishermen, it’s clear that in the Underground Universe, one trout caught on a nearly invisible #22 emerger is more satisfying than one caught blind nymphing.

My infrequent trips to Idaho’s Big Wood River in winter have produced the kind of minimalist, tiny-fly fishing Engle’s talking about, and yes, every time I approach the Upper Sacramento in winter, I wonder if this is the time I’ll find them eating midges.

See you on the river (chasing midges), Tom Chandler.

Why Skiing, Fly Fishing and Photographing the Upper Sacramento is Better Than Murder

February 19, 2009, by Tom Chandler 10 comments

Going fly fishing in the middle of a workday is one of the reasons I abandoned the Silicon Valley and moved to the Upper Sacramento; running out for the afternoon BWO hatch is a lot easier when it’s not bookended by a five hour drive.

Sometimes, it’s not just a luxury – it’s a badly needed escape from what we euphemistically call the “pressures of everyday life,” and clearly it’s a universal concept; I just got off the phone with about-to-go-fishing Wayne Eng, who was also tired and sore from all last week’s snow removal.

Like me, he was wondering where all his fly fishing time had gone.

Apparently I need a lot of gear to put dust-sized pieces of lint in front of trout.

That’s why yesterday I found myself strapping on the skis and slogging to the Upper Sacramento River – too much work and snow removal makes Tommy a dull, boring (and potentially homicidal) boy (no, I’m not saying any more).

Skiers Only

The road to this section of the river isn’t plowed in winter, so I threw some skis in the car (along with Wally the Wonderdog, whose stubby legs aren’t exactly snow-friendly). The ski in was all downhill, but hardly the stuff of a Warren Miller epic.

The texture of the snow could be described as “mashed potatoes” and even going downhill was a slog (and no, “anticipation” wasn’t how I’d describe my feelings about the wet, uphill ski out).

Still, the river’s beautiful in the winter (based on the empty hotel rooms and restaurants, too few people know that).

Small bug, big sky, corn snow. (Click the image for a 1440 x 900 pixel version)

We arrived at a stretch of slow, technical water; while I pieced together my fly rod (an 8’3″ hollowbuilt 4wt – a 3pc for transport reasons),Â the Wonderdog began drinking his body weight in Upper Sacramento River water.

I’d love to relate the kind of steely eyed mountain man savvy it took to spot a trout, but in truth, a good one began sipping BWOs right in front of me. This was 1:00 in the afternoon, and while the BWO hatch wasn’t heavy, it was heavy enough to move at least one trout.

In what I’d later realize was a Gross Tactical Stupidity, I didn’t slip on my waders and wading boots. And yes, on the fourth drift, the trout ate something near my fly (at least where it would be if I could see it, which I couldn’t because of the glaring snow on the far bank).

I lifted the fly rod, and homicidal urges suddenly went away.

The closest I got to a photograph of my big, lost trout.

And yes, it was a big trout; after a couple of seconds of ponderous head-shaking, he rolled on the surface, and his big, broad tail caught the attention of the Wonderdog, who immediately swam out in a wet, cold, misguided attempt to retrieve the fish.

This isn’t one of Wally the Wonderdog’s most endearing traits, but I gave the trout a little line, the Wonderdog circled the “splash zone” once (the fish was well upstream by then), swam back all disappointed and confused, and all was well – until I tried to tail the trout, which is when the hook simply popped out, and he was gone.

An iced mayfly is moving slow enough to make this image a reality.

An iced mayfly moves slowly enough to make this image a reality.

I wanted to get a measurement, but after the initial caveman-want-food instinctive disappointment stuff went away, I was fine with the outcome.

He was at least 17″ (probably a good deal more than “at least”). That’s a good fish almost anywhere (especially on this river, especially on a #20 dry, especially in the middle of winter).

Even better, after I immersed my hand in the water retrieving a couple dozen pieces of .22 brass some slob had left behind, I was happy enough to only get wet once.

These dotted the snow; I don't know if the trout were on them.

In a nuts-and-bolts fly fishing report, that would be the extent of the story; I saw another fish rise once, but he didn’t respond to a dozen drifts, so I laid down the rod, skied up and down the river a bit, came back, took pictures of bugs in the snow, and around 3:15, started the inevitably painful uphill slog.

Forty sweaty minutes later – with Wally the Wonderdog already snoring away in the back seat – I was in the truck and heading home. Which was only ten minutes away. Did I mention why I moved up here?

See you on the (snowy) river, Tom Chandler.

Special Bonus Wally the Wonderdog Section for Kentucky Jim:

Wally the Wonderdog gives a raspberry to litterers.

Wally the Wonderdog blows a raspberry to litterers.

Wally the Wonderdog wonders why his human is slow damned slow.

We begin our egress (Wally knows from egress).

The Underground Picks The Dozen Best Fly Rods of All Time (Period)

February 10, 2009, by Tom Chandler 178 comments

Nothing fires a discussion among fly fishing’s faithful more than the subject of fly rods. They are, after all, the most significant tools of the trade, and what’s more, fly fishermen love to argue.

The right fly rod feels like an extension of your arm; flies appear precisely where you’re looking (as if by magic), and landing trout is a pleasure.

Naturally, one man’s great fly rod is another’s pool cue or noodle, and yes, it’s just barely possible that my own personal bias has entered into the construction of this list, though just in case there are some questions about sanity choices, I wanted to lay out my criteria.

The Dozen Best Fly Rods of All Time? We pick, you argue.

The Underground’s Scientifically Derived Criteria

First, no current rods are included. History may decide the Orvis Helios or Winston Boron or Sage Z-Axis might be the most bizarrely named best fly rods ever, but I’m leaving those discussions to history. New rods are just that (new) – and they simply haven’t been around long enough to make the list.

Additionally, short production runs don’t really count. I truly believe the very best bamboo fly rods ever made are being built right now (by names like Ream, Brandin, Thramer, Johnson, Karstetter, Wojnicki, Raine, etc), but let’s face it – the combined lifetime output of those builders equals about one month’s production of Helios fly rods, and while I love my built-by-still-living-guys bamboo fly rods, they’ll never be cast by enough people to truly matter.

Similarly, no boutique rods really made the list – even though I could make a very cogent argument for the inclusion of a Steffen Brothers or McFarland glass rod or the little-known-but-much-lamented East Branch “classic” graphite. There simply aren’t enough floating around the fly fishing universe.

Then there’s the question of history; many will argue that today’s rods – the result of all sorts of materials and taper improvements – are the defacto “best” rods. Instead, I’m picking history’s best fly rods; the rods that set the pace in their era.

And finally, there’s the little issue of what “best” really means, and because I play with words for a living, I’m willing to suggest “best” is simply a reflection of criteria.

One rod may be lightest, another may cast beautifully, and another may be cheap. Which is the best?

Well, that’s why you’ve got the Underground. (We Report, We Decide.)

Of course, it’s possible the assembled Undergrounders have different ideas, and if you can write a solid-but-snarky justification (see below), I may create a followup “Underground Reader’s Choice” post (and who doesn’t want to be famous)? Naturally, saltwater and spey (two-hander) fly rods are wholly underrepresented in this list (with one exception), and I want to say right now that I’ve managed to avoid the slightest twinge of guilt about that.

The Dozen Best Fly Rods of All Time

Leonard Model 50(DF)
Sure, no two Leonards seem to cast anything alike and the craftsmanship varied widely over the decades (hell, it varied widely over the course of hours), but as Uber Rod Geek Rich Margiotta pointed out, the Leonard Model 50 set the early standard for light-tipped, Catskill-style dry fly rods – a remarkably enduring style of taper that’s still happily consumed by the masses today. And hey – you gotta start somewhere.

The Paul Young Perfectionist (7.5′ 4/5wt)
In truth, almost any of the Paul Young semi-parabolic rods could qualify for the Desirable Dozen; I picked the Perfectionist because I own the taper. The Para-15 is probably more famous and the better all-around rod, but the point here is that Paul Young created a more fishable version of the somewhat touchy full-parabolic tapers loved by Charles Ritz. A marketing whiz and astute businessman, Young also found a way to convert cosmetically challenged cane into a useful stuff via his “ring of fire” flaming process, and the Underground hates waste, so we find ourselves here. It’s perfection on a stick.

The Payne 100 (7.5′ 4wt)
It’s widely accepted that Payne consistently produced the best, long-lasting, most-consistent bamboo fly rods, and that even in the era of supercomputers, nanotechnology and widely available pizza, the Payne 100 taper simply can’t be improved. Over the course of decades, Payne bamboo fly rods have captured the hearts of fly fishermen for their castability, gorgeous finish, and elegant durability, and while the Payne 100 is a great example, it’s only one in a long of great examples of Payne workmanship. This is one time Payne is gain.

The Fenwick 7.5′ 5wt Feralite Fiberglass Fly Rod
In truth, the 8.5′ 6/7wt Fenwick glass rods were more popular, but everyone who’s been in fly fishing since the 70s has probably owned one of these chocolate brown beauties – wonderful fiberglass fly rods that brought a smooth-actioned, lightweight (for the time), glass-ferruled, great-fishing fly rod within reach of almost everyone. That the classic glass Fenwicks are experiencing something of a renaissance – along with an uptick in value – is hardly a surprise. Though heavy by the standards of today’s weight geeks, they’re still smooth fishing rods. What can brown do for you?

The 8.5′ 5wt IM6 Winston Fly rod
A classic that’s still available for sale (albeit at an amazingly inflated price), the IM6 Winston fly rods are testament to Tom Morgan’s influence on their design; light tipped and very smooth, they are superb all-around trout rods, and what’s more, they’re just plain fun to cast. And you don’t have to be a Winston partisan to believe the 8.5′ 5wt might be the “troutiest” rod in existence. Taken as a whole, the Winston IM6 fly rods may have logged more water time than any other fly rod on the market, and rightly so. Summary? The IM6 is still IMpressive.

The Loomis IMX 9′ 4wt
I’ll just say it: I’ve never cast a Loomis fly rod I particularly liked, but in an astonishing display of editorial integrity, I’m going to list a Loomis IMX, which is the rod line that – for better or worse – helped fuel the fly rod industry’s armsÂ race. I’m not at all sure the truth path to fly rod salvation lies in high tech, but I do know it’s a marketable differentiator, and that “new” continues to be the mechanism by which fly rods are made “obsolete” in the market’s eyes – and therefore ripe for replacement. As rods got faster, lighter line weights became commonplace, and with the rise of indicator nymphing, longer, lighter rods became popular. Hence the IMX 9′ 4wt – a rod I wouldn’t own, but a classic I must acknowledge.

Sage LL 389 (8’9″ 3wt)
Edging out Sage’s 490 LL, the 389 might have been one of the best spring creek/light fly fishing rods of all time, so naturally, Sage – marching to the tune of “more technology is better” – just had to discontinue it. Incredibly smooth, suggestively limber and an amazing fishing tool, the 389 remains one of the few rods that everyone from the bamboo fiends to the techno-rod-geeks can comfortably rave about. Inside dish from more than one industry source suggests Sage’s new line of “progressive” fly rods were designed to cast and fish like the much-missed Lightline rods, a bit of circular manufacturing that should amuse you, assuming you’re not paying today’s higher prices for “yesterday’s” action.

The Scott Heliply 8’8″ 8wt Saltwater Fly Rod
Sure, I’m totally winging it here; I know saltwater fly rods like Nestle knows ethical business practices. Still, I have it on very good authority the Heliply was one of those rods that was oddly discontinued, then forcibly brought back through the efforts of masses of keening saltwater fly fishers. In an era when “saltwater fly rod” was fast becoming code for “enjoy your tennis elbow,” the Heliply 8wt was a breath of surprisingly bendable fresh air – the reason the Heliply still enjoys a cult following.

Any Reasonably Tapered 8.5′-9′ 6wt
Sure, I’m cheating with this one, but that’s what writers do when they’re trying to make a point. The 6wt rod used to occupy trout fishing’s comfortable middle ground – the rod you’d toss in the truck when you weren’t absolutely sure what you’d be doing all day. Today, a 6wt is a borderline saltwater stick, and if you’re fishing a 6wt on the river and run into one of the “I fish a 2wt for everything” crowd, you’ll be viewed as something of a terrorist.

Funny thing is, the laws of physics have yet to be revoked by fly rod manufacturers (they seem to have successfully escaped the laws of economics), and a reasonably tapered 6wt will do everything from to throwing streamers and busy dries to fishing #22 midges with a reasonable amount of delicacy. I was tempted to award this slot to the “original” IM6 Winston 6wt or the Payne Canadian Canoe 6/7wt bamboo fly rod, but Ian Rutter pointed out the original G-series Scott was better than both, and I’ve learned not to disagree with people who let me stay at their house. Your choice.

The Eagle Claw Trailmaster 7.5′ Pack Rod
Just when you think we’re going to zig, we zag. The Trailmaster? A cheap pack rod that was also available as a spin/fly combo? That’s the one. Yeah, I know it’s clubby and awful, but it’s been available for pretty much forever, it was very affordable, and it probably introduced more conventional tackle fishermen to fly fishing than any other fly rod (remember, “best” is in the eyes of the beholder).

Today it’s available in a 98% graphite fly rod only version that looks pretty conventional, but for most of its life, it was a cheerful, happy yellow that belied the suffering that lay ahead for those attempting to learn fly fishing on their own. A great fly rod? Maybe only the way we define it (so sue me).

The Diamondglass 8.5′ 4wt Fiberglass rod
Sure, like a genius artist, the rod was largely underappreciated until it died (in the production sense), but we’re already seeing a healthy aftermarket in used models, and yes, the Underground has standing orders from two fly rod aficionados should I decide to sell my spare blank. Unbelievably smooth – and perhaps the best “technical” small fly rod in existence – this beauty may have been pure Plain Jane in appearance and construction, but the heart and soul of a rod lies in its taper, and this one has a halo and wings.

The 8′ 4wt Tom Morgan Favorite/8′ 4wt Scott G-Series
Another dual winner, this is an homage to the 8′ 4wt trout rod – perhaps the ideal rod for small to medium sized trout fishing. The Tom Morgan Favorite (that’s still available today from Winston as the “TMF”) is perhaps too soft for the current market, but it’s still a fine rod – as is the 8′ 4wt Scott original G-Series rod (since “updated” into a “crisper” fly rod with the G2 series [e.g. - even Scott rod enthusiasts are addicted to speed]).

The Almostas: The Rods That Didn’t Quite Make It

The runners-up list that didn’t quite qualify for the Dirty Dozen, but demanded a mention anyway. Most of these are simply historic rods; others were great, but didn’t quite make the list.

The Phillipson 8.5′ 5/6wt bamboo fly rods
I didn’t want to overload the list with bamboo, but let’s face it: Tommy likes the 8.5′ Phillipsons. I’ve cast the other heavy-hitter 8.5′ bamboo fly rod tapers, and none – not even the Payne 204 – measures up.

The Shakespeare Howald Process fiberglass fly rods
Pioneers in the hollow fly rod world, the Shakespeare Howalds were not pretty, not light, and not particularly durable (they had a tendency to saw themselves to pieces through extended use), but they were among the first good fiberglass rods to appear. We remember them thusly.

Phillipson Epoxite Registered Midge (6’6″ 4wt)
OK, this really only made the list because I badly want one (I just can’t afford to buy the few that are available). Still, it’s a defensible choice from a development standpoint; Bill Phillipson worked closely with 3M on several innovations, and pioneered the technique whereby synthetic rods are formed (on the mandrel) under high pressures, eliminating weakening voids in the blank. Thus, the Epoxite midge – in addition to its twin tips, gorgeous appearance, and homage to the ultra-short “midge rod” craze – also represents a technological highpoint in glass rod manufacturing, and the (sadly) near-final chapter in the Phillipson Rod Company saga. (Gifts of Epoxite Midges accepted by the Underground, and I’ll even let you name the replacement rod for the list.)

The San Francisco-era fiberglass Winstons
Just because, damnit.

Fenwick HMG Graphite fly rods
Those new to fly fishing are often surprised to hear that Fenwick was a leader before they faded into what amounts to cheap rod obscurity. Their classic glass rods made the “Dozen Best” list, and these HMG graphites were among the first affordable graphite fly rods. Frankly, I still find their willowy actions enchanting, but after their initial burst of popularity, they faded from the market (like the company). Too bad.

The Chico-era Powell Light Touch
Before the Powell family fragemented the name – and Charles Schwabb burned his fingers trying to resurrect it – the smooth-casting Powell Light Touch fly rods were wonderful fly rods that just missed the fashion tastes of the post-movie fly fishing generation. Too bad.

I was tempted to erect a Hall of Shame for the wholly mediocre, wildly overhyped rods that bedevil us (and yes, I’m talking to you, Sage RPL+ parking lot rods), but perhaps I’ll leave that to my readers.

Have at it, Undergrounders. Make your case for the “Next Dozen Best Fly Rods Every Built” in the comments, and we’ll see about a Part II.

See you at the rod rack, Tom Chandler.

Finally, a Drizzly BWO Day Fly Fishing the Upper Sacramento River (So Where Were the BWOs?)

February 6, 2009, by Tom Chandler 12 comments

When you’re a kid, you wait all year for Christmas and summer, and when they finally arrive, you’re confronted by the fact they’re probably as good as they should be, but maybe never as great as you want them to be.

One of two for Chris Raine.

That applies in spades to this year’s winter fly fishing on the Upper Sacramento, where a long, long string of warm, sunny, non-BWO friendly days finally fell apart in yesterday’s rain, and Chris Raine and I headed for a stretch of dry fly water, hoping to score a good BWO hatch – the remnants of which might just still be holding on (it’s February after all).

The weather was good: the rain fell a little heavy at times, but it was wet enough to keep the olives on the water, and gray enough to make the trout feel safe enough to populate shallow feeding lies.

Sadly – in a clear example of personal responsibility fleeing the land – neither the BWOs nor the trout fully cooperated; in the long half mile stretch of water we could see, we found rising fish in… about 30′ of it. The hatch was light, and half-dozen fish we saw were only working intermittently.

If you think that’s a complaint, it’s not; we each had a shot at 2-3 working trout, and while Raine landed two and I netted one, the truth is only a massive whiner could expect more from the deeper recesses of winter.

Raine's first fish was gorgeous; light colored, big dark spots... (click image for bigger version)

Raine’s first trout was a very stocky 16″-17″; his second a more sedate 15″ trout. Mine came in shorter than both, though on the drive home, I maintained mine earned extra inches because he required a tougher drift. Raine, inexplicably, disagreed (clearly, I need some new friends).

The Gear Geekiness

Some bamboo fly rod users refuse to fish their cane rods in the rain (a practice which denies their existence as fly rods instead of museum pieces), but I love the practice. The varnish never seems so smooth, and the grain never quite so real as when it’s magnified by drops of water.

I love the look of bamboo fly rods in the rain; they smell like... varnish.

In honor of the fact I got a free sandwich out of the deal, I fished my Raine 8’3″ 4wt Hollowbuilt bamboo fly rod, which is about as perfect a rod as you can get for this sort of thing. Raine – who’s been building a lot more than he’s been fishing the last couple months – dragged along his prototype 8’3″ 5wt staggered ferrule hollowbuilt, a rod I covet, and not just because it’s amazing fishing tool.

It’s what I call a “builder’s rod” – a prototype where the cane for the butt section is flamed and striped, while the tip section is a mismatched, medium-toned cane.

At times I get tired of the relentlessly cosmetic obsessives that often populate the bamboo fly rod universe, and a “builder’s rod” makes a statement – this is a fly fishing rod, not some over-delicate, self-centered freak show attraction.

With feet as big as Raine's, you'd think he'd never stumble while wading.

With feet as big as Raine's, you gotta figure wading's easy.

I did fully intend to test the Patagonia soft shell under rainer conditions than past trips, but it rained steadily and hard for a while, so I opted to hide the soft shell under a very lightweight backpacking rain shell, and I think I still came out ahead in the bulk department over my stops-bullets full on wading jacket.

With a series of low-intensity storms on the way, there’s a chance for more weekend adventures.The river was just picking up a little color, but flows were good, and yes, the wily fly fisher strikes while the rain falls. It’s like Christmas, you know.

I’ll see you on the river, Tom Chandler.

The Trout Underground Fly Fishing Report, Super Bowl Edition

February 2, 2009, by Tom Chandler 12 comments

It’s been more than a decade since I could name the final two teams in the Super Bowl; the sport doesn’t interest me all that much, and besides, with everyone locked inside waiting to see grown men to run into each other at high speed, there’s more room than ever in the outdoors (including the rivers).

OfÂ course, the “let’s go fly fishing while everyone’s eating chips and dip” thing isn’t exactly a secret, and in truth, you almost never see anyone on this river in winter anyway. Still, I like the feeling of putting one over on everyone else, even if that feeling is an illusion.

Mend, damnit; Wayne Eng on the Upper Sac, Super Bowl Edition

Wayne Eng and I shuttled one stretch of the river that Wayne’s wanted to fish for a month now; we dropped a car at the top of the run, drove to the bottom, and fished our way back. It’s gorgeous water, and though I’ve fished it all at one point or another, I hadn’t done so in exactly this order, and in a fit of self-definition, decided that made it a new trip for me (see, self-delusion can be fun).

The banks are largely bare of snow, and in fact, the temperature was a decidedly un-winter-ish 50s. (Sure, it’s pleasant now, but wait until next summer when wells are pumping air and rivers are slowing to trickles.)

In fact, I was pretty sure I erred in wearing my too-warm Patagonia soft shell – at least until I got on the river, where a steady wind was blowing and the section Bob Grace has named “The Icebox” lived up to its name. Turns out the soft shell was an inspired choice; I didn’t overheat even on the final speed hike the last quarter mile to the truck.

Maybe those clothing guys are onto something.

This was my 16" football; more fun than a pigskin, and great fins

The fishing wasn’t great, but that’s why you invite a guide to fly fish with you (a Free Fishing Tip from the Underground).

I shotgunned a few nice runs with a Beetle Bug and tiny Pheasant Tail-ish nymph combo, while Wayne got serious with a two-nymph rig – which he was fishing on a no-name, very cheap, need-electrical-tape-to-hold-the-ferrules-together bamboo fly rod.

Wayne specializes in doing weird things to bargain tackle (the rod was $25; the reel cost him $2.50, but functioned like a reel costing twice as much), and in this case, it worked.

The no-name rod with the cheap ferrules and reel seat not only survived, it played the fish nicely.

Tom Chandler fly fishing the Upper Sacramento River

Rare portrait of the artist nymphing (that's Wayne's rod, and this is Wayne's photo)

He hooked two trout, and I landed one that turned out to be a 16″ Upper Sacramento Rainbow with some of the longest, most elegant fins I’ve ever seen on a trout (and here I thought I fly fished for the scenery).

Natural variation is one of the unsung features of Mother Nature; you never know for sure what you’re going to find, see, hook or land, and when you no longerÂ care, then it’s time to find another sport.

Catch the Wave on the Upper Sacramento River

Water and Wayne (I go all coffeehousey and artsy on you kids)

All in all, a successful Super Bowl Edition of the Trout Underground, even if I still couldn’t tell you who the quarterbacks were or recount the key plays at the water cooler, but then, I’ve put myself into a situation where I don’t have any of those nearby either.

The Details

For some reason, I keep shooting this picture over and over:

Bamboo grain fascinates me; as do nice hollowbuilt quads)

Bamboo grain apparently fascinates me; as do nice hollowbuilt quads)

I fished the Raine prototype 8.5′ 5/6wt, and I’m leaning towards deciding it’s a 6wt. Being as it’s a prototype, he’s making some changes to the taper, but while he’s futzing around with numbers and big machines, I’m happy to keep fishing the thing until it goes back to his shop for dissection.

Meanwhile, the Patagonia Sticky Rubber Wading Boot trials continued, this time on a more widely varied stretch of water than before. A post, my geary Undergrounders, is coming soon. Maybe one or two more trips.

See you on the river, Tom Chandler.

Foiled again.

Finding BWOs, Superpowers, and the Purity Trout

January 26, 2009, by Tom Chandler 10 comments

Last Thursday I spent much of the workday staring out the window at perfect BWO weather – drippy, but not windy or rainy. Intel gathered from the Underground’s spy satellite network revealed decent olive hatches, so when Saturday dawned drippy, cool, damp and grey (in other words, “perfect”), I loaded Wally the Wonderdog into the truck and headed for the river.

This is what killer BWO weather looks like (close up)

What killer BWO weather looks like (death of a raindrop, Upper Sac)

I figured it was my turn.

Where I headed was a part of the river that should be huddling and shivering this time of year; banks carpeted with snow, bankside rocks slick with ice. You should ingress on skis or snowshoes, yet I drove right to the river’s edge, hiked (on solid, wet ground) for a short eight minutes, and there I was – on a snow-free riverbank.

Upper Sacramento River in a sadly snow-free winter

There should be snow, not lots of green.

Damn. (Note to rest of California: You ready for what’s coming?)

In other words, it was perfect BWO weather, but sadly my Undergrounders, I’d forgotten about the “No-Hatch Zone” – the Underground’s comic-book superpower that disrupts 90% of the hatches within a one mile radius.

My friends know about my superpower, but thankfully don’t comment on it much (except for Ian Rutter, who’s now taken to notifying the Emergency Office of the Tennessee Tourism Board when he learns I’m headed his way).

Damnit, where's the snow?

In short, the BWOs – despite the textbook-perfect conditions – never got going. I tied on a nymph and hooked/played/fouled-up one small trout, but was heading back to the truck when I settled in at one run that should have held rising fish. And after fifteen minutes of rock-sitting, there, my friends, he was.

One fish bubbled up three times in a foam line. This, I knew, was The Purity Trout – the single rising suicide fish the guy upstairs gives an angler if his heart is pure enough (I’m going to expand on this concept soon).

The nymph came off, a #22 Quigley Cripple went on (I still wasn’t seeing olives on the water, but what the heck), and on my very first cast, the bastard surprised me and ate the thing.

Then the bastard on the other end of the line (if you’re not keeping up, that’s me ) lifted the fly rod, and… missed the trout.

Damn. Upstream hook sets are a problem, and OK, there is evidence I may have set a hair too quickly. It’s either a deeply rooted character flaw or proof that fly fishing still excites the hell out of me, and given the options, I’m taking the second.

The Moment of Decision

It’s at this point in a trip you can trudge back to the truck knowing you couldn’t even hook a gift trout, or sit and wait a little longer (despite the Wonderdog’s insistence we go home, where there’s potentially more bacon).

I sat, and fifteen minutes later another trout rose at the tail end of the run.

And him, I hooked. (Long enough to get him to my feet before the hook popped out.)

He was a 14″(ish) specimen that received the usual intense interest from the Wonderdog, and while I sat a while longer (still looking for BWOs), that was my last shot of the day, which was strangely OK. I wanted to fish for rising trout, and I’d done exactly that, and all the walking and looking while the Wonderdog sniffed every bush was just bonus time on the river.

Where's the bacon. There's no bacon here. Let's go.

The Gear Stuff

I was hoping for a little more rain – and a little sterner test of the Patagonia soft shell – but the rain never fell harder than a drizzle, and not even that a lot of the time.

The same could be said for the sticky rubber wading boots, which performed beautifully rock-hopping the wet bankside rocks, but weren’t exactly tested today.

I fished a Raine 8’3″ 4wt hollowbuilt bamboo rod I drag out when there’s real potential for a BWO hatch – a surprisingly light, powerful and sensitive hollowbuilt rod that suggests bamboo rod building still has a few surprises left in it.