The line shot out like a ball off Messi’s foot.
The fly dropped an inch from the pond-side rock, where I had envisioned it going and had tried to make it go with the slightest flip of the tip.
I turned my head to my son grinning and said, “This is the Ferrari of fly rods. Amazing.” He grinned back, not a flyfisher himself, he had agreed to accompany me to Orvis in Manchester, Vt., the company headquarters.
I stood by the Orvis pond with a rack of rods beside me, ones I had asked to take out and test. I had asked to include the Helios F, 6 weight, nine foot, not because I needed another rod but just because, what the hell, if I could test drive a Ferrari, why wouldn’t I? And it was not as if I’d ever buy this rod, I mean it cost over $1,200, more than I would ever spend on a rod, even one as good as this.
I had read about Helios rods in a recent Orvis catalog. And I even watched the Helios video. If I wasn’t watching carefully, I could have mistaken the video for one where some doctor recounts giving a patient their sight back. It’s all about science and passion and innovation and doing something amazing.
And the rod is amazing. Orvis claims it’s four times more accurate than the Helios 3. I’ve never cast the Helios 3, or even any rod remotely this good, but as soon as I took one cast with the Helios 4, I knew that it was remarkably good. Light, accurate, responsive. Simply put, it made me a much better caster.
I tested a few other rods, thanked the Orvis people and left. Strange thing was, later that day, my son disappeared for a while and when he came back he said he had something for me. And he handed me a white aluminum rod case that said Orvis on the side. And on the end of it, it read Helios F, 6wt, 9’. He said, “Happy birthday.”
I was stunned. Then I felt confusion, excitement and guilt. Spending this much of my own money on a toy went against every frugal bone in my body. But having my son spend his money on it, well that made me even more uncomfortable. Over the next day and half we went through a series of dialogues that went something like this.
Me: “You know I can’t take it.”
Him: “It’s done. You’re taking it.”
Me: “Really, I can’t.”
Etc.
Eventually he wore me down and I agreed I’d keep it. But my acceptance of this rod into my life was a work in progress. My wife told me “for that kind of money, it better create some kind of new, positive energy in your life.” Those words turned on a lightbulb.
The only way I was going to appease my guilt about owning this rod was to use it a lot, have tons of fun with it, and tell my son every time I did. So immediately I planned a trip to the Catskills to fish some of my favorite streams there, the Willowemoc and the Beaverkill.
Early Saturday morning I left New York City for the two hour drive to one of my favorite fly shops, Dette Flies, in Livingston Manor, NY. I’d get some intel there and then hit the stream. I had the usual excitement of heading out to fish, and as I left the Hudson Valley and started to climb into the Catskills on Route 17, early September fog banks in the valleys made the scenery even more beautiful than usual.
But the folks at Dette had some bad news for me- warm water and low flows on both the Willowemoc and the Beaverkill. The weather had been hot and sunny for days and these two favorite streams were almost unfishable during the day. He told me, “you have to hit the tailwaters” and that meant the Delaware River.
While I’ve always wanted to fish the Delaware, I was intimidated. This renowned tailwater always seemed to be a place to try later, with a person who knew it. But the time had come, and with some advice from the Dette staff, I drove on another 32 miles to the bridge at Hancock, NY. I suited up, strung my rod and scrambled down the bank into the deep, fast, cold waters of this powerful river.
When I had tested the Helios, I knew that it cast well. Very well. In fact the line actually sings through the guides, something I’ve never noticed on another rod. I felt this again with my first cast on the Delaware. But what I hadn’t anticipated, and now felt, was that it actually made fishing easier.
And one more thing, wielding the Helios that morning waist deep in the Delaware made me feel more than competent, it made me feel powerful.
I paused and thought about this as I admired the bright morning sun moving slowly across the river toward me from the Pennsylvania side. I took a selfie and texted it to my son. “Thanks again for the rod.”
