As I get ready for an upcoming saltwater trip, I’ve been enduring the challenges most right-brained thinkers deal with when it comes to organization and preparation. For me, it generally starts with unpacking my duffle from my last big trip. That means I have several notable organizational obstacles. First, I need to remove everything “trouty” from my bag. Yes, I’m a procrastinator — I’ve embraced this trait and have come to grips with the fact that I tend to work best in short bursts and on a deadline. It may not be the best trait for a busy freelance writer, but we all find the groove in our work styles and do our best to punch through whatever gets in our way.

Once I’ve removed everything trout related, from wading boots to 3x tippet, the hunt begins for saltwater reels with saltwater lines, and saltwater rods that have been tucked away for months, possibly in the correctly labeled rod tube (but just as likely stuffed into the first empty tube I encountered the last time I unpacked. Don’t judge. I know my faults all too well.

But this trip has me feeling a bit different about my approach to all things salty. Sure, I want to catch big Cuban bones and maybe tangle with a permit, but I also loathe the idea of standing atop the casting platform while trying out the newest and fastest saltwater rods that are flying off major manufacturers’ mandrels these days. I’m toying with the idea of going slow.

How slow? Like, fiberglass slow. Soft, supple rods that’ll slow down my cast and, should I be lucky enough, really enhance a fight with a bonefish.

Don’t scoff. Glass is a gas, bruh.

And today’s glass rods are nothing to sneeze at. A handful of manufacturers, some big, some more obscure, are crafting glass rods with that nice, soft feel and the ability to lightly “plop” a bead-eyed Crazy Charlie on a dime while still having the backbone to battle saltwater fish.

When Kirk Deeter and I wrote The Little Black Book of Fly Fishing a few years back, I included a short missive noting that faster rods aren’t always better. I stand by that, although, in that excerpt, I maintained that a faster rod is likely a better choice for flats fishing. Truth be told, given the very real likelihood of wind and the need for long casts, a double haul and spot-on casts done in a hurry, that statement is probably more true than not.

But it’s not entirely true. Who among the flats-fishing community hasn’t dropped a Gotcha on the nose of a cruising bone with the delicacy of Prince Humperdink’s brute squad? How fast did that nice bonefish disappear in a muddy cloud? On the flats, particularly in tight quarters, a little grace goes a long way. And a slower rod is conducive to more thoughtful, more purposeful and, yes, more delicate presentations.

One of the challenges anglers face when fishing glass is that it takes a while to adjust to the implement. It’s a rod for feel, not for force; touch, not for torque. And when we say a rod is “slow,” what we’re really saying is that we need to slow down. Slower, softer rods have a deeper bend point, much closer to the middle or even the grip of the implement. That means it takes a slower rod longer to load and longer to cast. It doesn’t mean it won’t cast well, or cast far — that’s a misconception.

I’m going to pack a glass rod in my duffle for this trip. I may or may not use it, but I hope a calm day comes about, maybe while I’m wading some gorgeous white-sand flat and spy a trio of ghostly bones crossing my field of vision. And I may blow the shot — and I’ve blown hundreds of shots. But I’m in the mood for slow. Hell, these days, I’m slow. It may not be the wisest choice, but I’m beyond caring about numbers and size. Instead, if I get lucky and I make a long, soft cast and fool a bonefish, I’ll get to feel that fish as it turns and courses off into the horizon, like only a bonefish does.

I want to see the bend in the rod and feel every swipe of that angled tail as it cuts through the clear, Caribbean water. I’d love to do all that. Just once.

Then, maybe, I’ll switch back to one of the brand-new composite rods that weighs next to nothing and can magically lift 40 feet of line off the water with the flick of a wrist. Don’t think I don’t appreciate that. I do. But then, maybe I’ll stick with that slower rod and keep the tweak I had to make in my own head that had to happen when I loaded it into the boat to begin with.

No, faster isn’t always better. And better doesn’t always mean faster, either. Slow down now and then. As a well-known teen from the ‘burbs of Chicago might say, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Maybe it just takes a right-brained procrastinator to figure that out.