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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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Years ago, for Christmas, I gifted Jacob his first bamboo rod. Ever since then it's been a steady stream of learning to build and gathering all he could find. He completely immersed himself in the art of bamboo.
Since then, I've learned more about 'boo' than I ever thought I would, but it was still his. I've cast a bamboo rod from time to time, gave them the 'wiggle test', and admired from afar. I've got my glass rods, they catch fish just fine. I figured bamboo would be a world in which I was always an outsider and even a 'boo widow.'
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I can hear Jacob in the corner packing his things. I've been getting together our last bit of laundry to clean before we shove it in backpacks. At four am, tomorrow morning, we make our way home.
As always, we never get enough time here and it's always heartbreaking to head home. I guess maybe that means something when you're always sad to go home.
Our final adventure here was to the same place as our first. I think it's safe to say this little creek is so very special, to both of us.
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I've always belived there's a difference between surviving and really, truly living. As with most people, some days, weeks, even months are spent just trying to survive, make it through the day. Then there are those other moments when you're living.
I've tried to build myself a life that isn't just simply waking up every day and getting through, but a life I love. I'm always thankful for this world I live in, but like everyone else, some days it simply comes down to surviving.
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It was a Sunday afternoon at Animas River Brewing. The Broncos were on the TV and it was packed. People were covering every corner of the place, from out on the patio to huddled around the bar, just finished with their morning bike ride, trail run, or just families getting out of the house for the game. Jacob and I spotted our fellow anglers and squished in beside them. Pale ales and IPA's started flowing and so did the fishing stories. We heard about a recent trip to Honduras and the sound your reel makes when you hook into a permit. Plans were laid out for an upcoming trip to Belize this winter and how someone could make their way there through various channels from other parts of South America. Guiding, clients, and debates on float boats soon followed. Eventually, a few beers in, we broke out the map and began narrowing down just where in Durango Jacob and I needed to fish.
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