A Special Bamboo Rod Story:
An interesting episode of my fly fishing life is the unexpected story of a bamboo rod and how it all came about thanks to serendipity.
Late in 2003 I visited my friend Marcelo Calviello, whom I hadn’t seen for over a decade, at his home in Bella Vista, in the outskirts of Buenos Aires. To my surprise he was making very fine cane rods with an unusual ferrule of his own design. The bamboo he used was native Argentine cane (not Tonkin !!!), and the ferrule was also made of bamboo, pure bamboo. Much like graphite rods are designed, the female part of the ferrule was continuous with the butt end of the tip section by means of a hollow swell, whereas the male part was simply the tip end of the butt section. Impressive in its simplicity! As soon as I saw it, I couldn’t help suggesting improvements on ferrules, possible new tapers and so on. I told Marcelo that with his ferrule system he should be able to design a faster rod than traditional ones, apter for current demands, especially for the challenging Patagonian Rivers.
Marcelo listened attentively and, before the month was over, called me to let me know he had just finished a superb little 7 foot 4 weight with which I could launch long casts with narrow loops in full double haul. Absolutely incredible!
I was so enthused with the performance of the rod that I boldly announced to the world that I would risk fishing bamboo at the 2004 One Fly contest in Jackson Hole. My announcement was even posted at Clark’s Classic Fly Rod Forum on the Internet.
Had I been too rash? Had I gone too far? Probably, but I had no choice but to live up to my announcement. By that time, I had joined Marcelo in the bamboo rod project and we had started working seriously on tapers; I even helped him perfect his excellent ferrule system. I then told him we needed a rod for the One Fly. It had to be a 6 weight, 8-footer, fast yet light. Quite a challenge to say the least! Several months later Marcelo called me: “Got it!” he proudly exclaimed “I’ve got the rod, come try it!”
It was a classic case of love at first cast. Marcelo had succeeded in developing an 8 foot hollow-build 6-weight that was delicate but powerful. I made short delicate “dry-fly” casts with total ease, but I could feel the rod had the power reserve we call backbone that enabled me to fully load it with a great deal of line in the air and make long narrow looped casts in full double haul. It was simply perfect!
I remember mentioning my commitment to Ernie Schwiebert during a phone conversation; he really encouraged me to go for it, as he loves bamboo rods. However, he also commented that cane rods really shine when fishing by wading, when you have enough time to make the right casts and proper presentations; whereas from a boat, whether trout fishing at the One Fly or bonefishing in the flats, bamboo rods would have a tougher time fulfilling the requirements since you permanently need to make fast decisions and very quick casts, more appropriate for fast action rather than slow action rods.
Once in Jackson Hole, I must confess I felt rather awkward showing up the first day at the One Fly with a cane rod in my hand. People probably thought I was a bit eccentric, and that day was discouraging indeed. I was drawn one of my least favorite stretches in the Snake River: Pritchard to West Table. I was expecting the guide to give me the “right fly” for that stretch but it did not happen so I decided to go with the fly I had successfully fished (and won with my team Frontiers Flyfishers) several years before on the same spot: a red ant (Chernobyl type) tied by guide Brandon Keene. The fly couldn’t “buy” a fish that day and all I caught was one dink that didn’t even measure. I kept my fly, though, but I came out with a poor 27 point score.
At one point I questioned myself about practically everything: “handicapping” myself on purpose on the One Fly by fishing a “less than adequate” tool while everybody else was using the latest generation high tech graphite rods of the best known brand names. It had been a tough, long day and I felt miserably humble. But the second day came and I was drawn the upper South Fork with Sue Talbot as my guide. Surprisingly, I had never met her before, though it was my 10th One Fly.
Early that morning I drove from Jackson over the pass into Idaho, to the Angus Inn where breakfast was awaiting and where I had the chance of talking to guide Eric Anderson. He explained that owing to water conditions (algae, debris, etc.), the South Fork was not fishing well and that he and other guides were considering fishing wooly buggers instead of dry flies, and getting off the river around noon and heading upstream below the dam where fishing would hopefully pick up during the last two hours of the contest.
When I first saw Sue I must admit I was impressed, not only was she attractive but sharp and determined as well. When I told her what I’d heard from the other guides, she disagreed.
“Everyone else is thinking of going up, below the dam, we’ll have the river to ourselves, there is a lot of algae and debris, I wouldn’t fish a bugger, and I’d go with this ant”, she said. And she produced a smallish version of a Chernobyl ant, tan colored, with some trimmed hackle in the belly. “I’ll go with whatever you say, Sue” I agreed, and so did Joe Palmer, my fishing competitor who shared the boat with me that morning.
Sue took us into some side-channels and Joe hooked a very nice 18 inch class brown trout that jumped once and broke off. “Don’t worry Joe, it doesn’t matter, it’s about fun” I said, trying to convince myself more than him .Then Sue beached the boat right at a braided section of the river and I walked out towards a little dump (as she called it) that flowed into a big slough; and as soon as my ant started drifting down the dump a big cutthroat smashed it and took off into the slough. Me reel screamed and I called Sue at the top of mu lungs. She netted the 19 inch cutthroat, measured it, and after a couple of photos, gently released it. It was a great start! I was redeeming myself and what is more, my bamboo rod was performing flawlessly.
It was Joe’s turn for pick and Sue took him to the head of a small riffle where he hooked and landed a superb 21.5 inch brown trout that turned out to be the biggest fish of the contest. “You see Joe? If you hadn’t lost that first one you probably wouldn’t have caught this great fish! Congratulations, you deserve it!” I said, with genuine admiration and a touch of envy. My adrenaline was really high and I immediately waded towards some farther side-channels. I saw a second, interesting looking dump, a bit smaller than the first one. A few seconds later my fly landed gently at its head and an 18 inch rainbow immediately took it. After a good fight with lots of jumps which scared me as I feared I could loose him, Sue netted the male rainbow for me.
It was an incredible start for the One Fly! My spirits were as high as ever, I was totally concentrated and felt that my casting was becoming almost impeccable and that I was not making any mistakes. It suddenly dawned on me that all this was happening while fishing with my cane rod! It was then that it started to become special to me. I approached a third little dump, even smaller, and took a 17 inch cutthroat: it was turning out to be a magical day.
When Sue decided to leave the side channels and head downstream I was secretly concerned. We’d done great on the channels; would the main river be as good to me as the little dumps? I would soon find out.
As we drifted off Joe hooked and boated a 16 inch “cut” that was holding under a big log. “That log must hold a second trout, Sue”, I claimed, so she skillfully maneuvered the boat rowing gracefully around and back upstream so that I could have my chance at the promising log. Sure enough! I hooked a nicely colored 17 inch cutthroat right at the same spot Joe had hooked his. Sue beached the boat and netted the fish. At that moment we figured that going up below the dam seemed pointless: we would stay on the stretch and have it all to ourselves.
As we drifted down towards a strong run in the main river I managed to stick my fly right on the seam at its head. I had an immediate take, fast and violent; several minutes later another 17 incher was in the net. I realized that my bamboo rod was enduring really sustained “float – trip -tournament casting”. When casting from a drift-boat in a river, especially during a tournament like the One Fly, you have to decide fast and cast very quickly, and your rod has to respond. Mine fully lived up to it which made me both pleased and proud.
Nonetheless, the day was not yet over. As we approached the end of the float Sue turned me loose on the main river and took Joe into a back water spot. I saw a likely looking riffle, placed my fly right at its head and hooked and landed a nice strong measurable rainbow. I called Sue, who left Joe by himself and rushed to net and measure the fish: 16 inches. At that point I couldn’t believe my luck, I was fishing my special bamboo rod, I had caught 6 big fish, all measurable (only eight fish of
12 inches or bigger can be measured, only the best six of them count, and it’s each fisherman’s call) and I hadn’t lost my fly. That gave me a total score of 562 points. I was top rod that day out of 160 participants and it placed me third in my category (professionals), close behind my friends Doug Easter and Mike Lawson. I felt it was quite an accomplishment and couldn’t wait to tell Marcelo and get all the photos developed. That night while we were celebrating, Jack Dennis, who invented and organizes the One Fly, told me he thought I was the only competitor to ever fish a cane rod in the competition.
I was rather concerned about my next destination. Henry and Karin Wilson, long time friends who live in Anchorage, had invited me to spend some days with them in Alaska, and do some fishing on the side, so I had arranged to fly to Anchorage after my trip to Denver for the annual Fly Fishing Retailer expo-show.
But Denver was still four days away so I decided to join my good friend Mike Fitzgerald, Jr., captain of Frontiers Flyfishers team during the One Fly, on his trip to Three Rivers Ranch in Idaho. Lonny Allen, its owner had been part of our One Fly team and was kindly hosting us. It was in Idaho where I found a second chance to put my beloved bamboo rod to the test.
The day at the Henry’s Fork was tough. It was windy, rainy, cold and snowing higher up in the mountains. The fish were not rising. Actually, we could see some isolated rises, though very few and inconsistent. All I caught were small fish on tiny dries. The great performance came the next day on the Teton. It was a Wednesday and it started out slow, but right after lunch the action began and I caught four great cutbows in the 18 to 20 inch range. Although the wind made me push my rod to the limit, it kept throwing narrow loops and stood up to the fish fights perfectly.I left Idaho very early on a Thursday morning, headed for Denver with Alaska on my mind.
During my stay in Denver I was invited to a dinner party, hosted by Frontiers, which I shared with Barry and Cathy Beck and several other well-known characters in the fly fishing industry. Barry and Cathy Beck are professional fly fishing photographers, run fly-casting clinics, are also top fishing and photography writers and host groups on fly fishing trips around the world. They have been coming every year, for ten years now, bringing large groups of anglers to fish the rivers of Patagonia with my company, Patagonia Outfitters. During dinner Barry talked me into joining his group on a salt water fishing trip to Los Roques in Venezuela, I had never been there and it really sounded like an ideal opportunity. I gave it some thought and decided to concentrate on my upcoming trip to Alaska.
Alaska was pleasant and familiar to me; I had been there several times before and had unforgettable memories of great experiences both fly fishing and brown bear hunting. Little did I know this would become yet another great experience. Henry is a prominent lawyer in Anchorage but he’s also a dedicated fly fisherman and a skilled pilot. The first two days we explored the streams within flying range from Anchorage but it was late September and the silver salmon were no longer fresh. One morning Henry came to me and said, “we must get going; the fresh silvers are in Kodiak!” The next thing I knew we were flying down to the mythical island, the land of giant bears.
I had a 9.5 foot 8 weight TCR graphite rod, loaned to me by Paul Johnson of Sage, yet I had decided to take a chance and try fishing my One Fly bamboo rod. We spent two days in Kodiak. We scouted for silvers and we first found them in the Buskin River and Lake, where I hooked and lost three in a row. However, it was an unforgettable experience; at one point I was standing in the middle of the river maybe 100 yards from its mouth with a clear view of the ocean, the waves. I could see the silvers materializing in the translucent swell and spasmodically coming into the river in schools of 20 or 30. Their wakes were frightening. They looked like formula-one race-cars right after the start about to run over me. It was really scary, but when they were supposed to smash into me –at the very last second- with a quick sudden move they avoided me, flashed by and kept on going upstream. I stood there for hours, completely mesmerized. “I just have to catch a big, strong, fresh silver salmon on my bamboo rod”, I said to myself. It all happened the next day. We came to the mouth of the Pasagshak River, where it flows into the ocean.
Fresh silvers were running in by the hundreds. They were huge! The river wasn’t deep so I could fish a floating line –which I much preferred. We tried several streamers unsuccessfully and were becoming impatient. I looked into one of Henry’s fly boxes and saw this purple egg-sucking-leech, and that was the ticket! I hooked and landed five silvers ranging between 14 and 18 pounds. Two of them were so fresh they even had sea-lice on them. Despite having caught silvers before I was impressed as none had been so strong. They really fought like Atlantic salmon! They were every bit as hot and explosive! Again, my bamboo rod responded impeccably, the native Argentine cane showed great backbone and resistance, the bamboo ferrule endured the punishment and never failed, and I was definitely bonding with it. I was growing prouder by the minute.
My trip to Alaska proved to be very pleasant and after a long flight I arrived in Pittsburgh where I met the Fitzgerald family-owners of Frontiers. The night was long and the stories endless, and when I mentioned possibility of a trip to Los Roques with the Becks, Mike Fitzgerald Sr. was totally straightforward: “Jorge, this is your time, you have to go!” It was all I needed to decide.
I wasn’t prepared, though. I lacked the right clothing and the proper saltwater tackle. It was all immediately solved by Mike Fitzgerald Jr. by giving me his tackle including five rods and six reels (plus tarpon tackle, just in case), a full assortment of flies and all the necessary clothing. I was more than totally equipped in no time.
Obviously, I started thinking about taking my beloved bamboo rod. Wouldn’t it be great to try to catch a big bonefish with it? When Joe Codd, head of the Frontiers saltwater department, heard my idea he said, “Take your bamboo rod….If you want to break it….Those bonefish are huge!” As soon as the words left his mouth I knew I was facing another challenge. How could I resist trying it on the big bonefish of Los Roques?
Two weeks later there I was, on my first saltwater fishing trip in Los Roques, out of Pez Ratón lodge.
My first morning on the flats was highly encouraging. Guide Claudio showed me how to spot bonefish and I learnt. I decided I’d rather not take any chances on my first day so I took Mike Fitzgerald’s 8 weight TCR Sage rod and left my cane rod behind. It only took me five minutes to catch my first bonefish. After that I let Claudio help Mary Moeller, my fishing partner for the trip, and went on by myself. I must admit I could have done much better with a local guide spotting bonefish for me.
Claudio’s eyes were probably 100 times better than mine, but I sometimes I saw them, and when I did, I got strikes. I was satisfied with my first day as I was catching bonefish on my own.
At about noon we stopped for lunch on a little island where there was a shack painted red, blue and yellow (the Venezuelan flag colors) baring a big sign that read “Ezequiel-El Rancho del Amor” (the Love Ranch). There was an old man working on his fishing hand-lines. “¿Es usted Ezequiel?”
I inquired in Spanish. “¡Sí señor, para servirle!” he answered. I asked him why he had named his place El Rancho del Amor. “Well, I’m looking for someone to love, I don’t have anyone now” was his prompt reply. He told me he was a lobster trapper. He’d been on his own for too long on the little palm-treed tropical island, making a living by trapping lobsters and selling them. He also told me he had a son whom he had been able to send to school and Law University. He proudly announced his son was already a lawyer. But Ezequiel had kept on living off the lobsters he trapped and the fish he caught to eat.
As I was having lunch with Mary and Milton Jones, another party member and a true gentleman, I thought I saw some bonefish feeding. Carlos, one of the guides, took his rod and I took mine. I got on one of the anchored boats and spotted a huge bonefish. I tried a gummy minnow fly given to me by my friend Joe Codd. First cast and the fish took it! As I was fighting it Carlos hooked another one.
We had a “double” right at our lunch spot. We both landed our fish and took pictures. Mine was a huge bonefish, maybe over 8 pounds. It was memorable. As the day went by I caught some more bonefish so
I was quite pleased with myself. That night at dinner I asked outfitter Alex Gonzalez about tarpon.
“This is a bonefish destination”, he claimed, “Though we may sometimes find tarpon. It depends on the tide, water temperature and other things. Tomorrow you, Barry and I will go out to see if we can find tarpon”.
The next day we did see tarpon. Some were big. I had four takes but failed to hook any. Despite Alex and Barry’s instructions I kept setting the hook by lifting the rod as in trout fishing, and I saw each one of the tarpon jump and spit the fly out right in front of me. I knew what I had to do, I completely understood everything they explained to me, but when the moment came my natural reaction was to lift the rod. Some of the tarpon I missed were big and I felt totally humiliated. Part of the nature of fishing, I guess.
The next morning I told guide José Mata that tarpon were the only thing in the world I cared about just then. I wasn’t interested in anything else. José took me to some flats where he thought we would see some. Mary kindly let me take that turn. I stood at the bow holding my rod for a few minutes; I was prepared. All of a sudden three tarpon appeared. José saw them immediately, and I spotted them a few seconds later. I cast ahead of the first one. It was a good cast, the fly sank, the fish saw it and turned towards it. The first tarpon acted as if he’d take the fly but hit it with the side of his head and kept going but the second tarpon opened his bucket mouth and the fly disappeared. I continued the strip, I started with my left hand until I came up tight. Then I set the hook with the fly-line in my left hand by hitting hard three times. The tarpon was in the air and I bowed my rod. Everything was perfect and I felt I was doing everything right. The big tarpon fought like big tarpon do and I did what I had to do. I had him. I was sure I had him. After over 40 minutes he was giving up, trying to gulp air and already on his side. I brought him in slowly. I thought he was ready. When I had him on his side right by the boat he made a corageous last effort and went under the boat: the keel snapped the 16 pound class-tippet. He was gone.
I thought I was having a bad spell. I had been so close to being in the league of those who caught big tarpon! Maybe it wasn’t my time. An hour later things went from bad to worse: when I was trying to boat a big horse-eye jack my 11 weight tarpon rod broke. That was the last straw! “Mary, you go ahead and fish the rest of the day. I’ll take a rest, I may be having some sort of spell”. A couple of hours went by and Mary caught all kinds of fish, blue runners, jacks, and many bonefish. Suddenly I remembered I had brought a spare 5 piece10 weight Sage rod matched with a No.3 Islander reel loaded with a10 weight saltwater floating line. I rigged it up for tarpon including leader and fly. However, I realized it was a very light rod for big tarpon especially as it lacked the upper fighting grip that the broken one had. But it was all I had and it was way better than nothing.
I let Mary go on fishing hoping to persuade José to take me back to the tarpon area at the end of the day. He read my mind. I hadn’t said anything at all to him when, around 3 pm he said “OK…, your turn Jorge, let’s see if we can find another tarpon”. The boat cruised along the everlasting flats until he decided to make a stop at a place we hadn’t been to before. I stood at the bow with the rod in my right hand and the fly in my left. I waited patiently. All of a sudden ahead of us, at 11 o’clock, we saw a big lonely tarpon. It was even bigger than the last one. Bigger and far more frightening! So frightening that I even felt afraid of casting at him! But I braced myself anyhow. I could feel my heart pumping adrenaline throughout my system. Then I made a cast. It looked good. The tarpon saw my fly, turned and followed it. I made a long strip and the fly came to a stop. I set the hook properly and the huge tarpon was in the air once more.
José noticed my legs were shaking. “It happens to everybody”, he reassured me “calm down and don’t forget to bow every time he jumps”. There was no way I would forget that, it’s second nature to me.
I do it all the time with trout and salmon. It was a long fight; José lifted the anchor and let me fight the fish by myself. He kept pulling the boat away from the shelf into the deep blue water. It was endless, the waves got bigger and bigger and my left arm was starting to cramp all over. I realized how much I missed having a fighting grip. Not having it was plain torture. The rolling boat made me feel dizzy so José had to help me keep my balance. He did so by holding on to my shirt collar. We must have made a pretty sight! It took a little under an hour but I finally got the tarpon into the boat. We took lots of pictures before releasing it. My euphoria was beyond description. I had broken the spell! I could now concentrate on catching bonefish on my bamboo rod.
That night we had a huge celebration. My first big tarpon! I was on cloud nine and didn’t really care how the rest of the trip went. However, once the excitement had subsided, I realized I couldn’t leave Los Roques without catching at least one bonefish on my bamboo rod. It was a golden opportunity I simply had to take. I was going to use the 7 weight line on the Billy Pate reel Mike Fitzgerald had given me. I knew my rod would cast a 7 weight line, but Barry Beck lent me a Sage reel with a 6 weight saltwater line and I thought that was what I would start with.
The next day was just as memorable; José took us to a flat full of big bonefish which were schooled up in huge numbers in frenzy, feeding on trillions of minnows. The minnows were clustered close to the surface right under the film and we could see the bonefish almost surface-feeding non-stop! We could see their heads, dorsal fins and tails, as they were aggressively attacking and herding the minnows as if there was no tomorrow. It reminded me of the Collon Cura River trout which can also go on feeding frenzies attacking and herding puyén minnows against the banks. I knew my gummy minnow flies would do the job. I took a few minutes to hook the first bonefish on my bamboo rod. It ran and fought like a devil and once again, my cherished rod did just great. Mary and I kept catching big strong bonefish all day. My biggest one was over 8 pounds. That was more than enough proof for me that our Argentine native cane rod had more than lived up to my expectations, I would say on a par with Tonkin, or even better; and that our ferrule design had endured the toughest of tests, even to the point of abuse. There had been no problem whatsoever and both the rod and ferrule had worked perfectly.
Coincidentally, a couple of weeks later, I was fishing with Mike Lawson in the Malleo and Traful Rivers in Patagonia, Argentina. We had recently competed in the One Fly and there we were again, a month later fishing together – though not competing - in the wild rivers of Patagonia. Although he caught the biggest fish, a 25” super strong rainbow that fought like a devil, I landed a chunky, strong 20 inch brown with my beloved cane rod.
I was really pleased when I thought about everything my rod had gone through in such a short time and realized I had inadvertently followed Art Lee’s suggestion by designing a rod for myself and fishing it to the limit. My rod had passed all its tests with flying colours. Its story had made it unique, so in spite of the tempting offers to sell it, I somehow think this rod will stay with me for ever.
Jorge Trucco
