Here we go…

I thought it might be a little bit outlandish to compare my first casting of a bamboo fly-rod to my first kiss and admitting that in a social media forum would make me sound like a cabin-fever ridden lunatic. So I let the feeling simmer a few days and came to my senses…kind of.
I decided it’s all about context. In the context of being a male human being, the first kiss, the first crush, the first mix-tape, the first girlfriend, the first sappy love song you only listen to when no one is around and you later admit to no-one (of course) stick with you like nothing else and become water-marks for future mistakes or successes. In the context of being a fly-fisherman, casting a bamboo rod was right up there with catching my first trout on a dry fly I tied myself.
Last week I casted a 5-weight bamboo rod from Dunsmuir Rod Company and was transformed into Wayne Campbell, “She will be mine….oh yes…she will be mine.” Allusions to one of my favorite 90s movies aside, that bamboo rod will never be mine because it actually belonged to the owner. Yeah, the owner let me cast his own 5-weight bamboo. Maybe that’s standard operating procedure, or maybe he lied, but I doubt it.
The rod was delicate but sturdy, almost excited to toss line even though it was just a parking lot. I gave it back before I did something stupid, like spend $1,800 I didn’t have, but the day will come when I own one.
I will look back fondly on that moment, and remember it well.

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