A sixteen-foot rod may be handled beautifully, will cast the fly lightly, will kill a fish delicately, but it will not enable the possessor to force his line against or across a gust of wind eddying down the bank of the stream, nor to command all the casts of a broad river with facility, neither can he strike with certainty, nor kill his fish with rapidity. Salmon rivers are usually wide, sometimes wild, broken, and impassable even for that wonderful compound of life and lightness, the birch canoe, and cannot be reached in every part except with a long line under perfect control; frequently, the very spot where the fish habit, the swirl of the current or the pitch of the cascade is beyond the limits of him of the fifteen-foot rod; and if by the utmost effort the line is cast far enough, the first eddy will slack it up and deprive the weak, pliant rod of all control over it.
Again, where the favorite pool lies close by the overhanging rock, upon some accommodating ledge of which the angler crawls prone to the earth, hiding from the sharp eye of the watchful fish, he can with a long rod jerk out the line, and twitching it over the surface, beguile the prey; while with a shorter one he might be deprived of concealment, and stand confessed a laughing-stock to the fish, dangling a useless line close to the rocky bank. If the water, the wind, or the fish are strong, the rod should be the same; although advocating gentle treatment, there are times when, I assure the reader, that vigor must be exerted, and then twenty feet are better than fifteen.
No practical working rod can be made by the removal of one or more joints and the substitution of others, to increase or diminish in length. There must be a uniform taper consonant with the length, which, in case of alteration, will be destroyed, and the rod rendered harsh or feeble. The strain will not come equally upon all its parts; it will bend irregularly, and under a sudden strain is almost sure to give way. I had a rod in which a single joint could be substituted for the butt and next joint, which broke on an average of once a day so long as it was used in that way, and until the two joints were restored.
The elasticity of a good salmon-rod is like that of steel, and by the aid of such an implement alone can the fly be propelled to a proper distance. The force must be transmitted to the tip end of the leader, and the angler must feel in casting that his rod is up to its share of the work. It must neither drag, for in that case the line follows the impulse feebly; nor be too stiff, for then no life can be imparted to the line. If the rod is weak, it cannot cast with power; if it is harsh, it cannot cast at all. It must bend, but must leap back to its place, driving the fly far ahead of it by the strong and steady impulse.
A deficiency in vigor is felt at once by the angler, as a want of proper resistance to his exertion, and will be particularly noticeable of a bad day, or in an unfavorable locality, when the rod will seem to double back and fail utterly in a weak disgusting way; while too great stiffness will go to convince the angler that he is using a bean-pole.
The single-handed trout-rod is a very different affair, much more difficult both to make and handle; coarser tools and tackle will answer for the coarser fish, but nothing less than the best material and workmanship will enable the trout-fisher to perform creditably and successfully. It must be light for fine fishing, not over ten ounces in weight; it must be the perfection of elasticity; it must have a certain strength; it must balance perfectly in the hand; in other words, it must be perfection, to attain which, requires the utmost care and the greatest skill. It is a strange fact that decidedly better fly-rods, and perhaps better salmon-rods, can be obtained in America than in England, in spite of the greater foreign experience; a result that is due mainly to our persistent effort after delicacy, and perhaps partly to the habits and size of our fish; but an English fly-rod is now regarded as a clumsy monstrosity.
Trout-rods are usually made of ash with a bamboo or Calcutta cane-tip; the latter is infinitely preferable to lance-wood, on account of its greater strength and lightness. The bamboo is split into narrow pieces the length of one joint of the cane, and being glued together, is trimmed to the proper shape. Three pieces should be used, each planed, by an instrument made for the purpose, into an obtuse angle, and fitting neatly together; if two pieces only are united, the tip will bend to different degrees in different directions.
Bamboo may also be used for the second joint, and makes a light and vigorous rod, with ash for the butt; horn-beam or iron-wood, and greenheart, have also been introduced for trout-rods, but have not come into general acceptance; lance-wood is strong but too heavy, while my decided favorite is red cedar. Rods, after they have been exposed to wet, and have endured the strain of a strong fish, or even the effort of repeated casting, will warp; they will, if they are extremely light, prove deficient in power; they are apt to be either heavy or feeble; they will, when the current or wind is strong, give to it and lose their quickness in striking; in fact, they have many defects common to one or the other of the above woods, unless they are made of cedar; in this case they have but one fault, they are brittle. A cedar rod never warps; it springs to the hand as quick as thought to the brain; it is never slow or heavy; it cannot be kept down by the wind or the current; it is never aught but quick, lively, and vigorous; it will cast three feet farther than any other rod of the same weight, and strike a fish with twice the certainty. The wood is extremely light, but the grain is short; it never loses its life, but will snap under a sudden strain.
I once struck a salmon with an eight-ounce cedar trout-rod; it was at the basin below the Falls of the Nipisiquit, where the current of the river, rushing against the calm water of the deep pool, creates a gentle ripple. The hour was near mid-day, and I was catching sea-trout in that profusion with which they abound in the northern waters, when out of the ripple, a few yards beyond my reach, rose a mighty monarch of the flood, and turning over as he sank, caused a heavy surge in the tide.
My Canadian guide, an enthusiastic Frenchman, was with me, and our nerves tingled and our cheeks flushed at the sight; approaching the canoe, a long cast brought him out again, but only to miss the tiny trout-fly. Convinced that he would rise, I hastily substituted a small salmon-fly for the stretcher, leaving on the leader the two small droppers I had been using, and again carefully cast over him. Out he came, the water breaking round him and rolling away in miniature circling waves, and the foam flying from the powerful blow of his tail as he turned down. I struck, but it was as though I had struck a rock; he darted to the bottom, making the rod fly in splinters; at every surge fresh splinters broke off and fell about in showers; a piece of the lower joint only was left, when feeling for the first time really roused, he made one fierce rush and mad leap, and the line not unreeling fast enough to suit him, he disappeared with three flies, all my leader, and most of my line. I do not advise any one to fish for salmon with an eight-ounce cedar trout-rod.