Bamboo fly rods make comeback in central Maine

Saturday, March 5, 2005

Split-bamboo fly rods have made an impressive comeback in the fly-fishing world in recent years, particularly in Maine, a state with a rich heritage in bamboo-rod making. In the early 20th century, internationally famous rod makers such as Payne, Edwards, Thomas and Leonard had turned the Pine Tree State into the bamboo-rod capital of the world.

Many of these legends from that bygone era owned shops in Bangor, and today their rods made with tea stick bamboo command a dear price. Rods built prior to the early 1930s were not tea stick and are less valuable. The lighter, 61Ú2 - to 71Ú2 -foot Payne models can run $2,000 and more, but longer rods cost much less. They are too heavy to please modern fly-casters, putting them in less demand.

Making bamboo-rod blanks is labor-intensive and requires great skill, explaining the high cost. The artisan must split six strips from a tea stick culm and shave each one down to a tapered, three-sided piece. This is precision work because the six strips must fit perfectly together to form the six-sided blank. The degree of taper dictates the action.

In 1974, graphite fly rods flooded the market, and fly fishers embraced this product practically overnight because these rods could increase casting distance for the average angler. By the late 1970s, I figured bamboo was heading to oblivion. I was wrong.

In recent years, bamboo fly rods have made a big enough bump on sales charts to influence Mike Holt, owner of Fly Fishing Only in downtown Fairfield, to carry them this spring. These rods will come from the Orvis Company, in Vermont, and run from $995 to $1,795. The price range is attractive, but just the same, Mike claims the expense strains his inventory budget. However, he suspects a good response.

And why not? A fly shop with high-quality, in-stock bamboo rods is exciting news for central Maine anglers. Until now, if folks wanted a bamboo rod, they needed to choose one of three routes: 1) Order one from a rod maker and wait a reasonable two to three months or up to three to four years; 2) Check out the second-hand market on the Web, magazines, yard sales and so forth; and 3) Go to a shop like Holt's, try the rod and then take it home that very day.

Potential buyers must cast a bamboo rod before laying out hard-earned cash because some folks dislike this material. Bob Mallard, owner of Kennebec River Outfitters in Madison, is one of those people. This highly-skilled, well-traveled fly rodder prefers the extra punch and lightweight of space-age materials.

For others, though, fly rods built with synthetic materials have not replaced the delicate feel of bamboo, bringing up a salient point. When bamboo aficionados discuss these rods, they throw around the word "feel" a lot.

When you hold a bamboo rod, this precision instrument creates a paradoxical sensation difficult to describe. The rod feels like a living creature with hidden power just waiting to be unleashed; yet, at the same time, it strikes a newcomer as fragile to the core. However, bamboo is an extremely tough, resilient material.

I have told this story once before here, but it bears repeating because the incident underscores the concept of feel:

A few years ago, bamboo-rod-maker, John Kenealy from Turner lent me a rod for a week. The first morning with it, I ran into a chatty, Florida man at stream side, who asked if he could cast the rod. Within a minute and with no prompting from me, he decided to order a Kenealy rod just like it the following day. And true to his word, he did just that. (In a recent phone conversation, Kenealy said he has a two- to three-month turnaround time, a short time frame for a rod maker.)

Here is what sold the Florida man. Bamboo rods have a reputation of having ultra-slow actions. Kenealy's rods have a crisp, faster flex that makes them more enjoyable for modern fly rodders accustomed to graphite and other composite rods. In fact, many of the modern rod makers turn out faster flexes. The "buggy whips" of an older era are in far less demand.

Another quick anecdote about bamboo speaks volumes. When my youngest daughter, Katie, was 8 years old, an 8-foot, 6-weight Orvis bamboo rod in my closet caught her eye. The ultra-slow flex pleased her so much that she adopted the 8-footer and never looked back at her graphite rod.

Interesting to me, Ernest Schwiebert, a fly-fishing writer and perhaps the most well-know fly fisherman in the world, wrote about that particular Orvis model that Kate likes. In his classic, landmark book Nymphs, he called it, "The best all around rod" for nymphing. The slow action allows the fly rodder to swim nymphs and baitfish imitations in the most lifelike manner imaginable.

What an endorsement for bamboo -- an 8-year-old with no prejudices one way or the other and a man with the money and means to own any synthetic rod in the world.

Bamboo makes a good investment, and a quick story says it best. In the mid-1970s, I paid $175 for a second-hand, 81Ú2 -foot, 9-weight, Orvis Wes Jordan rod in a leather case, a huge price then. For 20 years, I used this power-house rod for Atlantic salmon all over eastern Canada. In the mid-1990s, I sold the rod for $500, which was enough money to buy a huge Billy Pate fly reel, line and backing for giant tarpon. I figured the initial $175 was rod rent for 20 years, so the reel, line and backing were free.

Maybe I am just trying to justify so much money for a fishing reel, but one way or the other, a tea stick bamboo rod seldom declines in price, reason enough to collect them. É One tip, though, fraught with exceptions. Buy rods from builders with national reputations to insure the investment.

Correspondent Ken Allen, of Belgrade Lakes, writes outdoors columns for the Morning Sentinel and Kennebec Journal. E-mail: KAllyn@centralmaine.com