by Jim Mize
I have some male friends who compare the number of fishing rods they own to the pairs of shoes in their wives’ closets. This is obviously a false comparison, as we all know a guy can’t fish without a rod but a woman can go barefoot.
Even as I type that, I instinctively duck as I realize one of those many shoes is aimed at my head already, and should a fight break out the lady of the house will be better armed with shoes to hurl than I am with rods to fend them off.
Such a lack of judgment on my part also may explain why women tend to live longer than men.
In hindsight, I will confess my poor choice of words and admit that the number of rods I own is entirely my fault. The reason is that I didn’t start out with a system.
My problem is that I buy rods that are like my favorites.
In a perfect world, I would have begun by giving some thought to what I would fish for and then acquiring the perfect rod for each. Instead, I bought the rod first, got home and realized I probably liked it because it resembled my favorite rod and now I have two.
For example, let’s start with my fly rods. Just looking at them, it would seem that I have plenty.
At the small end of the range, I have a three-weight that is perfect for small mountain streams. It’s a fine wisp of rod that can gently present a dry fly on a patch of water the size of a puddle with barely a ripple.
My four-weight takes care of a wide range of trout-fishing requirements.
After that, I have a four-weight that works for most trout waters. I can swing streamers, drift nymphs, or toss dry flies into riffles, and watch them bounce until sucked under.
Then, I have multiple five-weights. I use these as small-pond rods, loaners for guests, and to throw in my truck if I’m going someplace and don’t know what I will be fishing for. With these rods, I can loft poppers or rubber spiders for small bass and bluegill, with enough backbone to roll out the fly and enough sensitivity to enjoy the fight afterwards.
My five-weights take care of my small-pond fish.
For some odd reason, I don’t have any six or seven-weight rods, which would be perfect for smallmouth bass fishing. I live near a few streams where the smallmouth will suck in a streamer or pounce on a popper. With the bigger bugs and the arduous fight, a slightly heavier rod would be perfect.
Instead, I jump all the way up to an eight-weight which I use in saltwater for redfish, flounder, and sea trout. Then, I have a ten-weight with no reel and has never been strung or cast.
My eight-weight handles stripers and inshore fish.
So, you can see my dilemma. I don’t actually have too many rods; what I have are a lot of rods with a few gaps in my arsenal. The only solution I can see is to go buy a few more to fill in the blanks.
I will point out that if I am considered to be spending a lot on fishing tackle, this mindset is probably what brought me here.
I have a similar situation with spinning rods, simply because I can never tell what I will be invited to fish for. Some of my friends live near the coast, and others have homes near large lakes. And I live near a small pond. Obviously, it takes a lot of different rods to cover surf casting, pier fishing, drifting for catfish, or throwing crickets over a bluegill bed.
It takes a wide range of rods to cover everything.
It’s a bit like that famous phrase, “I have nothing to wear,” and once this problem is rectified, it’s followed by, “And now I need shoes to go with it.”
Again, I feel the urge to duck the shoe that is undoubtedly being aimed from across the room. Just as an aside, I’ve always wondered how wives can know what you are thinking without it being spoken or actually written. Or perhaps they just like throwing shoes.
Maybe this problem, of rods not shoes, intensifies the more an angler goes fishing and then specializes. I mean, if I only go once a year, I just dust off whatever rod I have and take it. But if I go once a week or more, then I fine-tune my approach and want just the right gear for the fish I pursue. Probably my techniques also become more targeted, my line weights more specialized, and my needs for each situation require a slightly different rod.
At least, that’s my excuse.
And it only gets worse if the angler occasionally goes deep-trolling for trout, runs specialized rigs for stripers, or spider rigs for crappie. Now my rods would have to work with downriggers, handle heavy trolling lures, and be adequate for drifting small jigs or minnows.
A person would need to go to work for a rod company just for the employee discount.
I can only imagine the dilemma posed if both husband and wife are anglers. All this multitude of rods would be doubled. Between the shoes and the rods, the couple would probably have no place to sleep.
Though maybe the husband would, especially if he repeated the comparison between shoes and rods. I mean, he’s likely going to be on the couch regardless.
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Jim Mize owns plenty of rods, just not all the right ones. You can help fund his rod habit by purchasing his award-winning book, The Jon Boat Years, online or buy autographed copies at www.acreektricklesthroughit.com.
