O
OlGunner
New member
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2019
- Messages
- 5
[For those who don’t like to read, here’s the summary: Never fly-fished; Having great-granddad’s bamboo rod restored; Am looking forward to a great new pastime!]
New member here, and brand new fly-fisher. So new, in fact, that I haven’t even tried it yet.
The sad fact is that although I grew up on Lake Erie and did a lot of spin fishing as a youth, I haven’t wet bait of any kind in several decades.
Last summer, though, as part of an effort to get outside more and lose some weight, I bought a kayak, was reminded how much I love the water, and decided I was going to start fishing again this year.
Recently, as I was considering what equipment I might need, an old memory surfaced. My father passed away some years ago and I inherited his sporting gear. Among the items stashed in a gun cabinet was an old shotgun case containing a fly rod. It’s not a fancy rod, was never an expensive rod, and it’s seen its better days, but I remember it from my childhood. I knew it was something special, and not just because my father used to take it out from time to time, but because it was the last fly rod owned and used by my great-grandfather.
My dad’s father cut and ran when Dad was still a baby. My grandmother moved back in with her parents, and my great-granddad, “Ted” McQuown, ended up raising my dad.
I never got to meet Ted—he passed away the year before I was born—but I share his middle name and he always held sort of a mythical place in my life. Ted was an auto mechanic, a dirt farmer, a salesman, and an avid outdoorsman. He loved to hunt, to camp and, most of all, to fish. He taught my old man how to "be a man” (back before “manly” became a pejorative descriptor), and my old man passed on many of those lessons to me.
Fly-fishing, however, was one part of the legacy I skipped. Until now.
A few weeks ago, I dug out that old shotgun case, pulled out the rod, and decided it is in good enough shape to be restored and put back into service.
The reel is an Ocean City 90 Automatic, and when I started looking online for info on it I kept seeing the name “Al Stover.” Turns out he and a friend operate the “bamboo-rod-works” website and offer a free identification service. I sent them a bunch of photos and they told me the 8.5’ bamboo rod was made by South Bend, likely in the ‘40s.
The reel, I was told, is the first generation of the model, placing it between 1950-53.
Since my great-granddad died in 1960, this all seems to fit the story.
The reel was loaded with old monofilament line (which had me a bit confused), but with Al Stover’s guidance, I opened the reel and started removing the old line. After pulling off a good 50+ yards of the monofilament, I realized there was backing line behind it. It felt like waxed, braided line and struck me as fairly heavy, and I left it in place when I sent the reel to be cleaned and serviced.
Mr. Stover later called to tell me it’s actually old silk fly-line.
I had thought it was rather heavy, but Al tells me it’s the finest-gauge untapered silk line he’s recovered. He’s currently cleaning and reconditioning it, and someday I may find out if it’s still fishable.
The rod has had some amateur repairs in the past, so I asked Mark Frey at Bamboo Rod Works to clean it up, re-do the repairs correctly, and basically do whatever is necessary to get it back into fishing condition.
I also asked them to add a hook keeper for me, but instructed them to leave the cork handle as it is. That’s chewed up a bit because my dad, and I assume his grandfather, would stick his hook in there while walking along the stream.
I don't figure that damage will affect how it fishes, so it will remain part of the rod’s history.
I’ll try to add a couple pics below, the first of which is regrettably faded almost beyond recognition. It’s of my great-grandad’s hunting/fishing camp somewhere in western PA.
If you could make out the faces, you would see my great-grandparents, my grandmother, my dad, and an unidentified young woman. Her presence would suggest this was before my mom came into the picture, so the photo was likely taken in the mid-50s.
I like to think that “my” fly rod was hanging on the wall just inside that door.
Anyway, that’s my long and rambling introduction. I am thrilled to find this site and am sure I’ll be learning a great deal from those of you who’ve been here a while.
I’m living in western Lancaster County, by the way, so if you happen to be fishing along the Chickies or Donegal or Pequea and see a tall, gray-haired, obvious newbie, fumbling to tie on a fly or struggling to free one from a tree branch above him, please feel free to say hello.
And if you can stop laughing long enough to offer a tip or two, they will be gratefully accepted!
New member here, and brand new fly-fisher. So new, in fact, that I haven’t even tried it yet.
The sad fact is that although I grew up on Lake Erie and did a lot of spin fishing as a youth, I haven’t wet bait of any kind in several decades.
Last summer, though, as part of an effort to get outside more and lose some weight, I bought a kayak, was reminded how much I love the water, and decided I was going to start fishing again this year.
Recently, as I was considering what equipment I might need, an old memory surfaced. My father passed away some years ago and I inherited his sporting gear. Among the items stashed in a gun cabinet was an old shotgun case containing a fly rod. It’s not a fancy rod, was never an expensive rod, and it’s seen its better days, but I remember it from my childhood. I knew it was something special, and not just because my father used to take it out from time to time, but because it was the last fly rod owned and used by my great-grandfather.
My dad’s father cut and ran when Dad was still a baby. My grandmother moved back in with her parents, and my great-granddad, “Ted” McQuown, ended up raising my dad.
I never got to meet Ted—he passed away the year before I was born—but I share his middle name and he always held sort of a mythical place in my life. Ted was an auto mechanic, a dirt farmer, a salesman, and an avid outdoorsman. He loved to hunt, to camp and, most of all, to fish. He taught my old man how to "be a man” (back before “manly” became a pejorative descriptor), and my old man passed on many of those lessons to me.
Fly-fishing, however, was one part of the legacy I skipped. Until now.
A few weeks ago, I dug out that old shotgun case, pulled out the rod, and decided it is in good enough shape to be restored and put back into service.
The reel is an Ocean City 90 Automatic, and when I started looking online for info on it I kept seeing the name “Al Stover.” Turns out he and a friend operate the “bamboo-rod-works” website and offer a free identification service. I sent them a bunch of photos and they told me the 8.5’ bamboo rod was made by South Bend, likely in the ‘40s.
The reel, I was told, is the first generation of the model, placing it between 1950-53.
Since my great-granddad died in 1960, this all seems to fit the story.
The reel was loaded with old monofilament line (which had me a bit confused), but with Al Stover’s guidance, I opened the reel and started removing the old line. After pulling off a good 50+ yards of the monofilament, I realized there was backing line behind it. It felt like waxed, braided line and struck me as fairly heavy, and I left it in place when I sent the reel to be cleaned and serviced.
Mr. Stover later called to tell me it’s actually old silk fly-line.
I had thought it was rather heavy, but Al tells me it’s the finest-gauge untapered silk line he’s recovered. He’s currently cleaning and reconditioning it, and someday I may find out if it’s still fishable.
The rod has had some amateur repairs in the past, so I asked Mark Frey at Bamboo Rod Works to clean it up, re-do the repairs correctly, and basically do whatever is necessary to get it back into fishing condition.
I also asked them to add a hook keeper for me, but instructed them to leave the cork handle as it is. That’s chewed up a bit because my dad, and I assume his grandfather, would stick his hook in there while walking along the stream.
I don't figure that damage will affect how it fishes, so it will remain part of the rod’s history.
I’ll try to add a couple pics below, the first of which is regrettably faded almost beyond recognition. It’s of my great-grandad’s hunting/fishing camp somewhere in western PA.
If you could make out the faces, you would see my great-grandparents, my grandmother, my dad, and an unidentified young woman. Her presence would suggest this was before my mom came into the picture, so the photo was likely taken in the mid-50s.
I like to think that “my” fly rod was hanging on the wall just inside that door.
Anyway, that’s my long and rambling introduction. I am thrilled to find this site and am sure I’ll be learning a great deal from those of you who’ve been here a while.
I’m living in western Lancaster County, by the way, so if you happen to be fishing along the Chickies or Donegal or Pequea and see a tall, gray-haired, obvious newbie, fumbling to tie on a fly or struggling to free one from a tree branch above him, please feel free to say hello.
And if you can stop laughing long enough to offer a tip or two, they will be gratefully accepted!
