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Remember when angling was cane rods and simple reels, silk
lines and wicker creels, when ‘casting school’ meant enduring the streamside
quips of a superior angler and fishing guides were actually experts on the
water and fish they worked?
Well, I don’t, not all of it anyway.
Like almost every angler raised in the western U.S., however, I do
remember when fishing was as simple as a coffee can of bait dug from the
garden that morning, a bobber, and the home stretch of stream. In those
days, any old stick would serve as a rod—sometimes literally, as more than
one willow switch was stripped then saddled with line to be tossed at
exceedingly imprudent brookies and cutts. And I do know that not so very
long ago a single catalog, probably Herter’s, could get even the most
discerning angler through a season.
I also know those much more straightforward days are gone for good.
Today we are inundated with ‘new and improved’ versions of things that
worked pretty well the first time around. To be fair, some are undeniable
advancements that continue to greatly aid and comfort anglers where it
matters most, on the water (even if those same items may not provide such
comfort to said anglers’ bank accounts). But a good deal of the other
products storming the market each spring are simply new. The improved
probably just sounded good to the marketing folks.
Speaking of whom, since when did buying a new piece of fishing equipment
require an advanced degree in materials science?
It seems technology has become a catchphrase unto itself these days.
There’s high-modulus this and copolymer that plastered all over the place.
Forget fiberglass, now we’ve got all kinds of new alloys and abbreviations,
so much so that I’ve taken to wondering if the piece of equipment that
allows me to check off the most boxes on the Periodic Table doesn’t win some
sort of prize. The absurdity of foisting such a lexicon on people who
routinely end up with hooks buried in their own body parts seems obvious,
but then I know how impressed I usually am when casting a rod made with
materials I can’t spell.
And the clothes—who knew it could ever be so complicated to get dressed
in the morning? How about a Capilene base layering system beneath waders
constructed withQuadraLam technology. Sounds snug, doesn’t it?
Never mind what any of it means, I’ll take two. I want lines strong
enough to double as a towrope when my neighbor hits the ditch, a rod built
in modern man’s mold, both sensitive and strong, and a reel that puts the
brakes to fish something like a roper’s horse stops calves. Give me Gore-Tex
or give me death, I say. If someone can build it, and someone else market
it, then I better have it.
The sport of angling in the 21st century comes toting accoutrement enough
to make golfers look like minimalists. And excuse me, but I’ve never seen an
angler perplexed by an enigmatic hatch turn to talk things over with his
caddy. But then maybe that’s something we can work on. There’s no telling
how many rods I’d buy buy if I knew there would always be someone else
around to carry them.
Seriously, though, can all these new fishing utensils make a person a
better angler? Yes and no, I suppose.
Is every new product an improvement? Fugettaboutit.
In all, it’s probably about the same out there as it always has been.
There’s some really fantastic new equipment, gear that performs so well it
immediately makes everything else seem obsolete, but there’s also many an
Edsel clunking around the tackle shop shelves just waiting for the unwitting
gearhead to come walking along with checkbook open and mind closed. And
since a lot of anglers have little trouble finding a way to blame a rod for
the faults of a cast, it might not matter either way.
It’s much the same as in that game our friends with the funny pants like
to play. Space-age drivers are about as common as the rocks that still find
their way into my wading boots, yet no matter how pricey the model, every
time I step onto the tee box I send the same crap worm-burner screaming into
the trees.
No, the only sure thing for anglers, like their golfing counterparts, is
that there are a lot more choices available now than there were even a
decade ago. Where there might have been four reel manufacturers there’s now
forty. Landing nets come in more styles than wedding dresses, and a person
could go numb from trying to decide on a fly line choice. Thus, the Fish
Alaska gear review has been designed to aid anyone who might be trying to
navigate his or her way through the jargon-intensive minefield that is
today’s angling marketplace.
To aid in our endeavor, we’ve gone out and asked anglers of every stripe
and stratum their opinions on items as diverse as wading boots and trolling
lures, spinning rods and sinking fly lines, documenting the results. And, of
course, we’ve gone out and tested the stuff ourselves, mainly documenting
the number of laughs we received when telling folks what we were up to was
“work.”
Coming to any sort of across-the-board consensus, however, may be
impossible, especially once you acknowledge the fact that anglers are
extremely particular about what they like, and usually quite vocal about
what they don’t.
So, in the end, the results are subjective, as they have to be, with the
choices that follow in this issue picked by anglers across the spectrum of
abilities. The assurance we can give is that the winners were chosen by
Alaska anglers on Alaska waters, which means even if they don’t fit your
particular preference, they’re solid products worthy of consideration when
making your next purchase.
And if you do happen to pick up a ‘new and improved’ item and still don’t
cast any better or catch any more fish, don’t fret. There’s always next year
and the hope we can discover new ways to work “nano-titanium” into our
sentences.
—Troy Letherman
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