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This 5 kilo sea-run brown trout fell victim to a rubberleg version of this classic nymph (photo: Matthew McClure).

Like most fly fishers, I have many mentors who have helped me as I’ve pursued the craft over some 50 years now. Some, like both of my grandfathers, physically delivered me to trout water as a kid. Others, contemporaries like my friend Kirk Deeter or our shared mentor, Charlie Meyers, the late, great outdoor writer and editor for the Denver Post, helped me hone my craft and instill in me not just the desire to go fishing but to get at the root of the passion.

The truth about fly rods

6 observations about trout rods
Photo: Todd Tanner.

Experts always have opinions. As they should. Any expert worth his or her salt will have strong views regarding their areas of expertise, and any expert who isn’t opinionated is either holding back or being disingenuous. In fact, an “expert” without opinions likely isn’t an expert at all, which is something you should consider going forward.

With that in mind, I want to share some relatively detailed thoughts about fly rods for trout.

New Zealand trout: Crass and unsophisticated

Never go in against a Kiwi brown or rainbow trout when your fishing trip is on the line. Or so I’d been told.
Photo: Chad Shmukler.

I’ve had the good fortune — or the extreme displeasure, depending on either your perspective or your fondness for self-immolation — to spend many days and evenings fishing some of America’s most difficult trout water. Fabled rivers like the Henry’s Fork, Missouri, and Delaware, where mayfly hatches can be dizzyingly complex and the fish are so conditioned from almost non-stop interactions with humans that tricking them with one of your fur-and-feather imitations requires delicacy, skill, and a tremendous amount of both practice and patience.

The devil knows you're dead

Part 3 of a 3-part story
Photo: orion / cc2.0.

The next morning I got up early and headed to Mikey’s. He didn’t answer when I called so I banged on the door some.

“Jesus, Jarl. It’s date morning don’t you know, just me and the missus…”

“Uh, huh.”

He looked closely at me. “You look like hell.”

“The Devils’ pawn anyway. Suit up.”

It took him about five minutes, so I figured date morning wasn’t a total wash. On the way up, I explained it to him.

“Case D, Case C was a screw job and you are still stuck in the cross hairs. But now you got two devils.”

“Ayuh.”

“What do you figure?”

“I figure the screwballs ain’t got it, we ain’t got it, and my well-dressed new best friends ain’t got it.” I patted the dog sitting between us for emphasis.

“It’s still on the mountain.”

“Now you got it,” I said.

Rivertops

Rivertops are very personal things — like shotguns and toothbrushes
Photo: Chad Shmukler.

“Wild trout, unlike men, will not — indeed cannot — live except where beauty dwells.” — John Voelker

Having one’s rivers is important, like having family or a country. With rivers, though, you get to choose. I prefer mine rippling with wild brook trout, which is to say clean and secluded. And because my time and place coincide with an irruption of my species, this means my rivers must be small — headwaters really, the tops of systems known even in Boston.

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