When I was out on the river casting one of these rods and it was feeling pretty darn nice, I got to thinking about how I had never heard anyone speak badly about a St. Croix rod. Granted, it surely happens somewhere, sometime but, much like my success at spotting a furry-chested three ringed toad in the wild, I have yet to notice this particular event.
My memory brings me back up to Alaska to a time when I, and another guide were out one night laying into some Chum Salmon. Now Chum aren’t the tastiest salmon, nor are they the most acrobatic; but, pound per pound, they are the strongest of all the salmon. Down and dirty- tuff. Anyways, my buddy Nick had this St. Croix stick (I forget which model) in a 8 weight and with every Chum hooked, the rod would buck and get way bent over. And Nick, who had his drag pinned real tight, would just yard them in. I had never seen someone tame such savagery so quickly – all the while with this rod bent like no rod’s business.
“Whoa buddy, you’re gonna bust that rod,” I offered.
He just grinned and shook his head and replied, “I’ve been doing this for over ten years with this stick and haven’t busted it yet.”
You see, Nick is a Wisconsin boy. He likes to drink cheap beer and chase big Browns, Muskie and Pike. He’s not an overly large guy but hiding within his subtle, ragged edges is this raw power. And at times this strength looks like grace, especially when ensnared in combat with Alaskan River Monsters. Under ordinary circumstances, he is not a flashy guy nor is he the boastful type. But his inherent skill as an angler becomes ever apparent while on the water. And often with a St. Croix in hand.
