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A few weeks ago Jacob finished out a 7’ 2” 3 weight C. Barclay fiberglass blank. I’ve been secretly hoping that it won’t sell, because this is a truly perfect small creek rod! It’s got me dreaming of high mountains and wild cutthroat and all the adventures. Funny how an inanimate object can invoke such magical dreams.
P.S All Rod Bags are 20% off through Monday! Just enter code “SHOPSMALL” at checkout, or shoot me an email with more questions or to place your order.
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Happy Halloween, everyone! While everyone else is posting photos of wonderfully carved out pumpkins and clever costumes, I'm afraid the best I can do is 'introduce' you to a mystery.
Several years ago I was urged to read The Royal Wulff Murders by Keith McCafferty, or any of his books. I declined. The idea of a whodoneit mystery with a bit of the wild west and fly fishing thrown in came across as a bit kitschy to me. Maybe it would be 'entertaining,' but I like to think I need more substance to my books for them to be worth it.
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For three years now, Jacob has teamed up with his mentor, Charlie Downs, to put together a bamboo fly rod for the organization, Casting Carolinas.
Casting Carolinas is a non-profit organization which introduces women who are surviving cancer to fly fishing through retreats and single-day events.
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Khaki is my most popular rod bag color. Light khaki, dark khaki, lightweight khaki, lightweight light khaki… You get the point. In fact, I have an entire fabric bin dedicated to khaki. All the other colors and flannel fit in another, much small bin. What can I say, people like their muted tones?
But, every once in a while my little sewing world gets rocked with a bit of color. Okay, maybe more than a little.
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This morning I walked down into my basement with a load of wash in my hands. I carefully rounded the corner, noticing the bamboo blank currently in the saddle waiting to be wrapped. It was a little too close for comfort. I stepped over a box filled with thread and in-between the fly tying desk and epoxy/varnish/finishing desk, taking note that there isn’t currently a rod drying. Dust, ya know.
I’m not normally a graceful or agile person, more clumsy and hurried, but in the basement, there’s a need for considered steps. It’s in the best interest of our relationship.
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The parking lot was full. We walked by all the cars, searching for fishy stickers or rod tubes in backseats. Determining that this was a big river, we'd just driven all the way out here, and the ratio of anglers to cars was not that high, we geared up. I swapped out my trusty hip pack for the daypack, as I do on most 'hike' trips. It was filled to the brim with snacks, rain jackets, and water, with all fishing essentials pinned here and there.
Jacob doesn't hike unless there's the return of fishing, a guaranteed pot of gold at the end of a rainbow if you will. Which is why these are my favorite kind of fishing trips, I get to hike with Jacob because the bribe of trout always works.
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