Explaining Another New Fly Rod

And now, the winning ticket for the TFO Lefty Kreh Signature fly rod is, number 4-1-8-7.

YES!!! It's MINE!!!

And, best of all, Mary was there with me at the annual club pig pickin' and saw that I hadn’t spent an arm and a leg on my newest fly rod, this time. All was right with the world until that all too familiar sense of deja vu began to creep in…

“That looks like a kiddy fishing pole”, she innocently observed.

“I guess. But it’s really a 6ft 2wt. A very sweet little fly rod.” I replied.

“What are you going to catch with it?”, she asked.

“This is definitely a trout rod.”

“I thought you already had a trout rod. The one you were protecting when you bought that bass rod a couple of months ago”.

“Well, yes. But that one is a 9ft 6wt. It’s for bigger trout on bigger waterways. This is for small trout on tight little mountain streams”.

“But I thought fishermen liked to catch big fish, not small ones”.

“Umm, sure, usually. But they also like to catch different kinds of fish, in different kinds of places. It’s a challenge.”

"So you'll use this rod to catch the biggest little fish you can."

"I guess that's one way to look at it."

“But you still won’t bring any home for dinner, right?”

“Probably not.”

“Where’s the reel?”

Gulp. “I only won the fly rod.”

“So, do you have a reel for it?”

“Well, not yet.”

“Oh. And what about a fly line? Can you use one you already have?”

“Afraid not. This is a 2wt rod and I’ll need a 2wt line”.

“But your last new rod was a 6wt and you already had a 6wt line but said it needed a 7wt.”

“You're right, but that was a special case. I do want a 2wt line for this rod.”

“Figures. So, let me get this straight. You win the rod but need to go get a new reel and a new fly line so that you can go away and catch little bitty fish that we still won’t cook. Right?”

“Uh, yes?”

“I still don’t get it”.

We’ve been here before. Exactly.


Now, before I get myself in serious trouble here, let me explain that these conversations are done with tongue planted firmly in cheek, a little friendly verbal sparing, if you will. It's a playful battle of wits, for which I am at a distinct disadvantage; first, because most of our fly fishing contrivances are truly indefensible in the real world (and we all know it) and, second, that I am thoroughly outgunned in the wit department by the lady of the house.

I wouldn't have it any other way.