I believe the first rod I used was, like Superman, made of steel. Unlike Superman most of what I cast only flew about twenty feet and most of those traveled only as far as the snarl in the reel would allow. Oh well, I was seven years old and had all the time in the world to sit on that Lake Roosevelt dock, feet dangling in the water and work out the knots. I believe those were my first tests of patience and I probably failed them all. These days I still get the occasional snarl but always pack a backup supply of quality line and have learned to carry a knife to solve the unsolvable.
Years passed, steel turned into fiberglass and casting reels became spin-cast, then spinning. More years passed and NASA gave us graphite. We bought land, built a cabin and when time loosened up I bought my first canoe and my son and I began to explore the nearby, out of the way lakes up north. When I went to buy rods my primary criteria was the price tag. No doubt they were dogs but I didn't care. Allan and I quickly evolved into pike and bass fisherman, mostly because that's what swam in the water we fished. That they were eager to snatch most anything thrown their way made it all the better.
My experience told me longer rods cast farther than short ones and two piecers made more sense for our Boundary Waters, and later, Manitoba trips. And since the fish we targeted weren't finicky, I never once felt the need to pick up a Loomis rod in a tackle store. I'm sure they're close to being an act of God but they always felt like overkill when it came to bass and pike. High end rods seemed more like brain surgeons than hammer swingers to me. That I've always punched a clock and was an enlisted man grunt in Vietnam fit right in with the basic equipment we've always sported. Sensitivity was never as much a consideration as backbone and snapping the tip off a forty buck rod didn't hurt a whole lot.
My favorite spinning rod that I'll never use but sure as heck would like to, is a nine foot lightweight. I don't recall why I bought it but there must've been a reason. I do remember rigging a spinning reel on a fly rod figuring I could really buggy whip tiny spinners a long, long way while sitting in a float tube. It did kind of work like I figured it would, but the way I hooked it on with zip strips, wasn't what you'd call comfortable. The nine foot spinning rod solved the problem, or at least I think it did seeing as how I've yet to use it. But there is hope for next year. Joining up a float tube, big walleyes and tiny Centre Lake in the backwoods of Manitoba comes to mind. Also, standing on the dock at the Elbow Lake Lodge with my grandson Jakob and bobber fishing for whatever came along, also perks me up. Though I tell myself to stop the nonsense, I'm already counting the days.
Lastly, rods are simple tools that function as an extension of the arm. For years I've carried the image of tying into a wall hanger with nothing more than a lure, a line, and a sense of timing. Of course I'd wear leather gloves just in case it worked.
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