I am one of those who grew up fishing with my dad and/or my grandparents on the weekends. Yes, yes, I was a bait fisherman - but a fisherman, nonetheless. I grew up in southeastern South Dakota, and it was not at all uncommon for us to drive at least an hour to get to some good fishing. When I took my first job after college I knew I was in trouble. I’m not sure exactly how many lakes the county, roughly 25 miles long by 30 wide, has. But the state DNR website has maps for 108 of them. So many lakes and so little time.
Oh yeah, and then there is the other problem – access. Nearly all of these lakes have either a public boat ramp or a boatable waterway to them. But both are nearly useless when you have no boat. And so I was relegated to fishing friends’ docks and the few public fishing piers in the area.
This wasn’t all bad. I caught a lot of fish from the pier at City Park; so many that it was just too easy (ok, not quite that many.) So I made my move to fly fishing. Yes, I did increase my catch, but that’s not the point here.
I had an old seven-weight that I had bought years ago when I knew literally nothing about fly-fishing beyond whipping the rod back and forth to cast. As I restarted in fly fishing, I picked up a 4 weight for the multitude of panfish in the area. This was not an expensive setup by any means, but neither am I a wealthy man. Regardless of price, it was my rod and I loved using it.
The fishing pier at City Park is one of those floating, wooden monstrosities with a main run that goes straight out into the lake with the fishing area at the end, forming a large “T”. You know, it has the nice high rails to keep kids from going over the top; meanwhile, leaving enough of a gap under the rail for the kid to simply walk off the edge of the pier. With the fish in shallow, the best fishing was actually to set myself on a corner with my casting arm hanging out over the railing and casting back into shore. This provided not only good fishing but the easiest avoidance of hanging my backcasts up on the fishing pier.
My job is such that it was easy for me to take time over lunch and spend it down at the fishing pier at mid-day, when there were few, if any, people around. This day was one without a single person around. Great! Uninterrupted fishing. I had my spot on the corner of the pier, fish were biting, and it was a beautiful day.
I was working line out after my latest fish, eyeing that perfect spot to catch the monster of the day. As I worked a backcast, I felt a funny little pop and a tug on the line. I looked back, searching for the source, expecting to find my line had made a triple flip around the far side of the pier and tied in a perfect double hitch back on the near rail. What I found instead was the butt section of my rod still in my hand, with the line leading down to the tip section lying in the water ten to twelve feet out from the pier.
At this point, allow me to interject. In my online studies, I had read somewhere about putting wax on the male end of the ferrules to keep them from separating while fishing. But I had only read that once, while all of the other aspects had been mentioned over and over. At the time, it didn’t seem anywhere near necessary. But as I stood there looking at my tip section in the water, it suddenly seemed much more than necessary.
I took a quick glance around to see who may be witnessing the whole ordeal. With no one present, I was free to deal with the situation in a much more proactive, if less dignified, manner. After all, this would be easy. If you have ever broken down a rod with a fly still tied on, you know how easy this process should be. That stupid little hook insists on getting caught on every line guide it goes through. While this is normally a problem, it is now going to work to my advantage.
I began slowly, gently pulling in line by hand, the friction of the line pulling the tip section to within about 5 feet of the pier before the tippet hit the tip top. I paused for a moment to envision how this was going to work, took a quick look around to make sure I didn’t have any spectators, and then began to work the last of my line in. Remember the plan of the hook catching one of the line guides and pulling the whole thing in? That fly passed through each and every guide without so much as a twitch. I had just lost my connection with an important half of my favorite fly rod. As the tip section sensed its freedom, I did a few quick fancy flips with the butt section to try and weave a harness of fly line around the rod piece in the water, only to have the tip begin its descent. Growing desperate, I now resorted to trying to grab and pull the tip section in directly with the butt section of the rod. Let me tell you, it is hard to hold one quarter-inch round object with another quarter-inch round object – darn near impossible, in fact.
Like the Titanic post-iceberg, I watched as the tip made a graceful arc toward the bottom, pushing the ferrule end a few inches straight up into the air above the water. With just the slightest pause and a little bob as if to wave goodbye, it slid straight down into the murky abyss. Being 6 feet, 7 inches tall, reach has never really been much of an issue for me. But, as that tip section made its final descent, I just didn’t quite have the necessary reach to save it. I flopped myself up and over the rail of the pier, fully leaving the deck, but to no avail. I had to do a bit of a fancy flip to keep myself from following the rod tip to the bottom of the lake. Long arms and legs come in handy for reach, but are bit awkward when trying to do fancy gymnastics over a rail. That rod slid down through the water as smoothly as the tear rolled down my face (don’t worry, it was on the inside – there is no crying in fishing).
I stood there for a few minutes feeling totally dejected over the lost rod piece, although it may as well have been the whole rod. A little less common sense and I would have pitched the butt section of the rod over the rail too, as it was now useless. But there was a good reel with line on it that could be used on a new rod, if I was ever able to replace the one I had just lost. I reeled up the line on my useless half-rod and headed back to work for a crappy afternoon. I swear, even those stupid ducks along the shore were laughing at me as I walked back to the parking lot. As they mocked me all I could think was, “Quack, quack, tying material.”
Stupid ducks.
All day long I grieved over the missing section of rod. It was right there, just out of reach. I could replay the sinking of it in my mind at will. I even took a little time to get on the website of the rod maker to see if ordering just the tip section was possible (what can I say, I’m cheap.) Finding nothing along those lines, I resorted to sulking. No, the door to my office was not left open. I occasionally enjoy a good sulk, but won’t admit it to anyone in person.
While I made my drive home to inform my wife of the need for a new rod, the idea hit me. I’ve caught plenty of sticks and weeds off the bottom, why not a tip section of a rod? Would it work if I were actually trying to do it? The plan began to formulate in my head. I would need my big spinning rod and a monster spoon with a gnarly treble hook on it. It was a beautiful day, but it was now evening and the pier would be full of families fishing. Was going back tonight worth the embarrassment of the situation? I really didn’t want anyone else inadvertently hooking my rod before I got there. At the prospect of having my beloved rod tip back, modesty went to the wind and I informed my wife of the situation. Facing the opportunity of not having to spend more money on a new fishing rod, she gladly sent me off to quickly do my thing before supper. I gathered my rod and spoon-dredge and headed for the park.
As I suspected, the parking lot was jammed full. I squeezed into a parking spot loaded with fresh door dings just waiting for my truck, hoping I wouldn’t be there long anyway. At the park, the lot is on top of a hill, out of view of the fishing pier. When I walked over the hill to within view of the pier my heart sank almost as deep as that tip section had earlier. The pier was jam packed full of people, many being families with younger children. This is particularly important as parents often become the most territorial, and I had a specific spot I had to be at. Then there is something about that big monster of a spoon on the end of my spinning rod. They see that beast coming anywhere near their children and act like you are going to use their child as bait. I don’t see the problem; do you know how much they charge for those pierced ears at the mall? Besides, my spoon was a beautiful combination of white, light blue, yellow, and pink. They charge big bucks for that color of jewelry, too. Should I inadvertently hook your child you can keep the spoon as consolation, but only after I get my tip section back.
While I trudged down the hill I decided to simply set my mind to the work at hand and not worry about those around me. The corner of the pier where I needed to be was just barely open, although I would be standing almost shoulder to shoulder with the next person. I walked down, giving semi-curious glances as if interested in what everyone was using and catching, trying to redirect the attention from myself. They all just stared in horror at the shiny pastel spoon on the end of my rod. The gentleman standing near my corner of the pier gave me something of a confused look when I slid in next to him.
“It’s okay, I shouldn’t be here long, and I’m not fishing, just trying to find something.”
Oh, that cleared it all up. I decided that I would work away from the pier, as I can always cast past and bring it back if I pushed the tip section out without actually snagging it, but getting it out from under the pier would be tricky if I pushed the tip section under there. The spoon danced down to the bottom right next to the dock, and I used the rod and my long reach to drag it out and away as far as I cold reach. I hadn’t felt it hook anything as I ran the dredge, but a tip section is pretty light. After all, this was only the first attempt of many that I had built up in reserve inside of myself. Upon reaching the farthest the rod would allow me to go, I held my breath and ever so gently began to reel up the line.
Just as the flash of the gaudy spoon came into view, so did the tip top of my fly rod. I had done it – I had dredged up the tip section on my first try, hooking that life-threatening treble hook right through one of the guides. Of course, by now my unusual method had gained the attention of several people beyond keeping their kids from becoming bait on that big spoon. As I reached out and locked onto the tip section with my hand, I swear I could hear their confusion. Beaming with pride at my accomplishment, I tightly tucked the tip section under my arm and reeled in the rest of the line on the spinning rod, securing the big spoon from causing any more danger.
“Well, can’t beat that, so I better quit while I’m ahead.”
Some chuckled at the comment while the slower ones were still screaming silent confusion over the whole mess. I marched back to my truck, the pride of having my beloved fly rod back far outshining that conglomeration of white, pink, yellow, and baby blue hanging at the end of my spinning rod. The funny thing is, I didn’t see a single one of those stupid, laughing ducks as I carried my prize home. Yeah, they knew they had been beat.
What’s the point of all of this?...Oh yeah, lube your reel, not your ferrules. In fact, I would even use my voice of experience in suggesting you put a little wax on the ferrules to help keep everything together. For the risk you take, you might as well be lubing your ferrules if you don’t wax them. About the best and cheapest thing I could find (there we go with the cheap again) is the wax in the dental section of the drug store. It is the stuff that is used when braces are scratching or cutting up the inside of your cheek. Anyway, if you have teen age kids, you probably have been through the braces and have some of the wax at home. Just rub a little around the male end of the ferrule, insert it into the next section of the rod, and give a quarter turn to lock everything into place. Does it work? I haven’t had to do any more dredging since. The rod hasn’t even come loose in fishing.
I have since purchased a boat and am no longer dependent on the public fishing piers for my fishing adventures. I do, however, still go back there every once in a while, rod in hand, just to show those ducks what’s up. They don’t have much to say.
For the love of God, lube your reels, not your ferrules.
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