Film Canisters and Cane Poles: a fly history I commented how I might like to break out the old Eagle Claw glass fly rod sometime this summer and introduce it to a few cutthroats. I got the opportunity this past weekend when my family and I took a short hike up a stream. Mostly it was just a day getaway. A picnic. A walk in the woods. I even took note of a few features for the upcoming elk season. But, like any outing that happens to pass near fertile trout water, a rod must also be involved. Two hikes ago we were also along a stream, and I employed the ole "film canister" technique. That is, I cut a long whippy stick for my kids to trade off flipping a fly into the stream with. The results were less than stellar, mostly due to the young-ness and lack of intuition my kids possess so far when it comes to approaching water with the intent to catch something. So this time I packed actual fly rods, knowing there was potential to put in more time on the water. Even my wife carried her rod. In the end though, it was still mostly me who fished. The kids climbed around log jams, scaled high cut banks calving away into the water, took unintentional swims, and fended off all sorts of imaginary dangers that threatened our very existence in the woods. My wife, very unaware of the danger she was being spared from, read a book in a tranquil patch of sunlight along the spruce-lined stream. Her rod never got assembled.
The faithful yellow rod of my youth found new life in the hands of my daughter.
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