This week I had several rod socks head out of my shop and into the world.
They were all different sizes, color variations, and styles.
I continue to be amazed by how many rod builders there are out there and how different their ideas of a perfect rod sock are!
It's really great to play a small part in the building process.
These are just a selection of some!
Here's an update of what I'm offering and the pricing:
Standard six - ounce cotton twill sock - $25.00
Standard six - ounce cotton twill sock with flannel lining - $35.00
Shown below are a few of my most popular fabric color options.
Standard six - ounce cotton twill sock with ferrule plug pocket - $25.00 PLUS $5.00 per pocket
With my pocket, there's no buttons, clasps, or velcro, which could be potentially damaging to the rod. Instead, I'm utilizing the cuff which runs around the sock, keeping the plug secure while rod is in use.
Thanks so much to all those who've ordered socks!
It's really been a phenomenal experience and I look forward to "meeting" more builders and making many more custom rod socks!
If you're interested in a sock or would like more information, please fill out the form below or feel free to e mail me: email@example.com
I first heard the term "Boo Widow" on our blog just about a year ago. I had no idea what it meant, and so I decided to google the phrase. I was left even more confused and slightly offended.
Don't google it.
Later on that night I shared it with Jacob, and he explained that it was a term for wives/girlfriends who have been left by the wayside for the love of bamboo. He tried to convince me that I was not one of these women, but I knew better.
There is no doubt in my mind that I am a Boo Widow.
But, that's ok. I'm even a little bit proud of the term.
You see, Jacob is not going out and having adventures without me, I get to tag along on every one.
He hasn't "traded me in" for anything better, he's simply found an art form that he loves and his fondness shows.
I'm privileged enough to be able to watch a stick of bamboo become a fly rod. Get to see the horrific vintage rods come home and leave a couple of months later restored to their original beauty.
I know what a ferrule wrap is, the difference in guides, what goes into making a reel seat or grip. I now understand the differences in hardware's and tapers and how to scarf a tip. I've acquired quite the education and a pretty impressive vocabulary to boot, which makes me appear a whole lot more intelligent than I am.
I've even been able to find my little corner of the rod building world through my rod socks. I've had the privilege of meeting and working with some incredibly talented builders that I would never have had the opportunity to.
Jacob just recently finished restoring a South Bend rod. Right now he's rewrapping a few guides on a vintage fiberglass, and I'm preparing to sew up some socks, all because I get to be a Boo Widow.
Over the past month I've had the privilege of working with some amazing rod builders and creating some incredibly unique rods socks! This has really been a phenomenal experience and I'm looking forward to more builders and more socks.
Thanks to the design initiative one builder had, I'm now offering both flannel and flannel lined socks as well. They were such a great pleasure to work on and really add a uniquely vintage look.
Flannel lined socks start out at $35.00 a piece.
The traditional, un-lined socks start out at $25.00 a piece.
Discounts are given for multiple orders or for builders.
I'm currently taking orders for this month.
A special thanks to all the builders out there, y'all have been great!
Please feel free to send me an e mail
or fill out the form below
It was the best of days.
65 in January.
We literally chased trouts downstream all day.
Not one broke off.
Take note; to bend to life, chase it, and not break.
You wake up, it's still pitch black out. You can hear the rain pouring down outside.
Drink coffee. Grab fishing gear. Bundle up. Make sure you are as waterproof as you can be.
You leave the house and head out. Sure it's wet and cold, but the fish are already wet and cold, so it really doesn't matter.
You arrive at a soft, still, run; bubbling from what appears to be rain. The closer you get, the subtle differences between a raindrop hitting the surface and trout feeding on the surface becomes apparent. Every so often you can see bright, yellow tails break the surface, taunting you and making you even more aware of their presence.
Every cast is an effort in futility. Size 24 dry flys are no match for the mighty raindrop.
It's an excruciating process, one you only participate in if you are truly, certifiably crazy. But you will be rewarded for your mad routine, with gold, in the form of a brown trout or two. So, you continue this crazy pattern until your hands are so cold and wet you can no longer set the hook. You warm yourself with good conversation and beer and go at it again, only to repeat this pattern as well.
Eventually, you decide that you're soaked and good conversation can only go so far to warm you, the car heater does a much better job. You make your sojourn back to the car, soaked and tired and slightly buzzed. You may look broken down and smell like a wet dog, but you leave knowing that you are worth your weight in gold.
I woke up this morning to air filled with smoke, so thick you could hardly see what was right in front of you. It hits your lungs hard and weakens your body almost instantly. We decided that for today, the trout would have to wait. There was plenty to accomplish in the workshop.
And so, we set to our tasks.
It's good to sit down an create. It's good to make something out of nothing. It's good to restore something to its original glory. There is work to do, and it is as important and meaningful as exploring the hills.
I spent my day in front of my machine, sewing away, wondering why in the hell a rod sock would possibly need pockets. But, the rod sock got pockets.
Jacob completed one restoration and began a second build. The workshop smells of varnish, warm bamboo and pipe tobacco. It's a good smell.