Anachronisms and Jeep antennas

Recently I have come into possession of a 1950s vintage British Loch fly rod ten feet long and made of tubular steel. That’s right… tubular steel. Heard nothing good about this material? Heard that it was an evolutionary dead end in fly-rod materials? So did I. Until I cast this thing. Perhaps tubular steel might be worth a second look.

 

The rod is slow and very full flexing as one could expect. One feels the bend into the grip. It has a nifty little classic metal and rubber butt cap to allow the lower hand to perform some or most of the casting work and provide a fighting base.

So, if we think about it a bit, what we effectively have here is a switch rod, allowing both single-hand and two-hand casting techniques. Interesting. The rod has an agate stripping guide and tip, and is painted to look like bamboo. In the 1950s this would have been a less expensive alternative to cane, but with all the trimmings of a top of the line rod. Gee, but isn’t the switch-rod a modern thing? Nope.

Casting it is an exercise in slowing down and feeling the rod. When one gets it right, the line flies out, the rod doing all the work.

Back after WWII, the British commandeered surplus jeep antennas, and turned them into fishing rods. These non-purpose built tubular steel rods were rumored to be pretty awful, as one can well imagine. This rod is as far from a jeep antenna as one can get… although I did pick up the BBC on it the other day casting it near some overhead power lines…

What makes me sit and wonder though, is the forgotten possibility of tubular steel. After all, this rod is incredible, and that is with 1950s technology and alloy development. What would a modern rod made of this material cast like?

What next for the ‘Anachronistic Angler’?

Brief wisdom #1

It isn't the rod, its the fool behind it...

Skagititis

Skagititis

A friend of mine recently coined the term “Skagititis” to refer to the syndrome of the inability to cast a ‘normal’ flyline after spending a given amount of time with a Skagit head.
For those of you that don’t know what a Skagit head is, it is a highly shortened and thickened flyline designed to allow the user to throw larger flies with heavy sinking tips. If your standard floating flyline weighs 600 grains in a 55 –65 foot head, a Skagit line for the same rod would weigh around 700 grains in a much shorter length- say 25 to 35 feet plus tip.

Sufferers of Skagititis exhibit one or more of the following symptoms when casting longer belly lines.

• Weak D-loop formation
• Lack of body motion
• Lack of body twist
• Too much anchor in the water
• Too short a stroke

Not everyone suffers with Skagititis. Some casters can switch back and forth and adapt the length and timing of their stroke appropriately. Others however, may suffer acute Skagititis and feel that they can’t cast at all. Skagit heads are so easy to cast that my Neanderthal friend Og can do it.

I suffer from this syndrome from time to time myself, but it is curable. Simply pick up that old windcutter, delta, long-belly, or even DT line and start casting in slow motion. It all comes back.

Skagititis sometimes comes with complications. Some of these are:

• Runninglineitis:    The malady of buying every running line on the market in search of one that lasts and does not tangle. A related problem is forumitis, which is the widespread but minor disease of dominating internet forums by obsessively posting about running lines.

• Tangleitis:    The problem of compulsively cussing at and picking knots out of your running line.

• Sinktip tinkeritis:    The disease of constantly tinkering and futzing with length, weight, and construction of homemade and custom modified sinking tips. In extreme cases the sufferer no longer actually goes fishing, but spends all his or her time in the garage late at night with the shades pulled and grows a long beard.

• Sinkintheriveritis:    The issue of carrying so many different heads and sinking tips stuffed in your vest and waders that you actually sink into the bottom of the river.

• Depthitis:    The syndrome of losing all confidence that a steelhead will move to your fly without a heavy sinktip even in 50 degree crystal-clear water.

Casting practice

One element beyond all others will hamper your ability to fly fish; The inability to place the fly wherever it is needed, both near and far.
I am a fairly accomplished caster, but it had come with an incredible amount of work, shoulder pain, frustration, and analysis. I just did not want to be the guy on the water that was embarrassed by my casting.
So, I practiced, and practiced.... and practiced some more. It was slow work. The first year I went out west I had a double spey and a mess of a snap-t. The second year I had a single (wretch!) , double, and snap-t. The next year was the year of the tailing or collision loop. My casting was much better, but my timing and power ratio was all FUBAR.
I thought my single handed casting was good until I saw Bob Nasby cast at our Jamboree. Right then and there I realized that I was just a big strong guy, and was using no finesse. So, I went out and practiced and fished, fished and practiced, and by 2007 finally reaped the fruits of my labor.
Self critique is essential for the autodidact. When one is learning by oneself, then the question 'why' should always be on your mind. "Why is this happening, and what will happen if I do this"?

I paid for all the practice by having to answer endless stupid questions from people on shore "Catching anything?", "Why do you need two rods?", "What 'cha fishin' for?",. People would just not believe that I was practicing my casting. When I told them that I was just practicing, they gave me a sly, knowing smile as if to say "Well, buddy, you ain't gonna catch nothin on that there flypole nohow!"
What I endured....
What always amazed me about fly fishermen is that the same guy that comes to a casting clinic flailing away like a drunk, will go out twice a week to hit the putting green and driving range. Perhaps he is afraid of being laughed off of the links? Maybe we should begin laughing at bad casters on the river so they get embarrassed enough to practice? I for one will always try to be helpful, as I am not so far removed from being that guy who couldn't cast.

Another way to become a good caster is to fish with a great caster. I fished with Rob Estlund for years, and how I managed to evade suicide or breaking my rod in frustration I will never know. Perhaps I am stoic... or just thick as a brick. Whatever the reasons, fishing with a master as he burns out 100 foot casts and delivers the fly to exactly where he wants it will make you desirous of either quitting or improving in a hurry.
So... get out there and practice. I will. I have a long way to go yet.

Symbiosis

If I learned one thing from running a flyshop for several years and casting hundreds of lines and rods, it is that there is a true symbiosis when a rod is cast with the proper line.
I have seen so many students of my casting clinics come with rods that are mis-lined. They struggle until in desperation, I try their rod and discover the inherent problem; Wrong-line-itis.
Wrong-line-itis afflicts all fly fishermen at one time or another. It usually results from not seeking out the advise of someone in the know, and just buying a five weight line for a five weight rod. Each rod casts a window of grain weights. In that window, there is a sweet spot. Hit the sweet spot and you will know it. Most modern rods are so stiff and fast that over-lining them is necessary at most casting distances.
When it comes to two handed rods, things become infinitely complicated. For single handers the AFTMA has established a sort of guideline for what constitutes a five weight line. Not so with spey rods. After the spey explosion in the 1990s new manufacturers produced rods to cash in on the craze without any idea what they were doing. Some of these rods were really good, (St. Croix Imperial for example), but the rod line weights were often wildly off. I remember casting a Cortland spey rod for a customer to determine the line weight. The rod was rated at a 5/6, so I lined it with a 6/7/8 windcutter. It was like trying to cast a piece of thread with a telephone pole. What the heck? I asked the gentleman what other lines he had with him and he mentioned that he had a 9/10/11 windcutter and that Dave Pinczkowski had told him that it might be closer to the mark. "Lets try it" I said. Sure enough, the damn rod came alive and actually loaded with a line that was according to the rod manufacturer, twice as heavy as needed. Remarkable. No wonder the most common questions asked on spey forums are about what lines work on which rods.
Then there are styles of casting. Some rods set up with Scandinavian shooting heads for surf casting perform like a dead dog when using a water anchor. I have cast rods from manufacturer's reps that were lined improperly.
I always feel like I am at fault when this happens. "What the hell?" I exclaim along with worse expletives, trying forward speys over and over again and only able to obtain a loop the size of a Winnebago. Here is where a good casting friend can help you. Give the rod to him or her and let them hack with it for awhile. If the consensus is smelly, then pop that line on ebay, and try something else. The last thing you want to do is cast a mismatched rod and line all day. Talk about a royal pain in the....
I have spent quite a bit of time putzing with lines with Rob and Dave, and the experience has been absolutely invaluable to me. Accordingly, my rods cast as they should, and are a joy to use.