Tools for tug-of-war

Manufacturers arm anglers with sophisticated (and costly) reels for fighting fish.

By Terry Tomalin
Published December 14, 2007

SARASOTA

Geoff Page scratched his head and tried to do the math.

"I don't know," the Sarasota fishing guide said. "I probably cast a thousand, maybe two, in a typical redfish tournament."

Drifting over a grass flat, waiting for the tide to turn, we discussed the finer points of a good spinning reel.

"It makes a difference," Jeremy Sweet added. "You don't have to work quite as hard with a quality reel."

Sweet doesn't pretend to be impartial. The California angler works in product development for Shimano Corp., a Japanese company and one of the largest reel manufacturers in the world.

This writer, however, remained unconvinced. "There is no way I would pay $300 for a spinning reel," I said. "My first car didn't even cost that much."

Old-school

I've always had a soft spot in my heart for quality fishing tackle. As a boy, I would have done anything to have a reel like my father's classic Penn 712, which at the time, was the Corvette of spinning reels.

In 1970, I was like most other kids, a push-button hero hunting sunnies and catfish in our New Jersey fishing hole, Oak Tree Pond. But on the weekends, we'd head north to Mallard Lake, the realm of monster snapping turtles and duck-eating pickerel.

The old man had an aluminum johnboat that he would row to the edge of the lily pads, and I would watch in amazement as he'd drop a floating Rapala lure into a clearing no bigger than a garbage can lid.

All it took was a couple of twitches to lure a bass up from the depths, then Wham! Fresh fish for dinner.

I was convinced that the old green reel had magical powers. That is why I couldn't believe it when my father finally agreed to a trade: my push-button Zebco for his Penn 712.

That reel turned out to be a workhorse, catching everything from native brook trout to Spanish mackerel for more than 25 years, until one day it wound up at the bottom of a 300-foot deep lake during a salmon expedition.

Times they are a-changing

But if that old Penn was a Corvette, then the reel Page was slinging line from was nothing short of a Ferrari.

Space-age materials and advanced engineering have made today's reels lighter, stronger and more durable than anything that has come before.

Florida has always been a proving ground for reel manufacturers. It was the discovery of the west coast tarpon fishery in the late 1800s that spurred the advancement of sophisticated drag systems.

Companies such as Shakespeare, Pflueger and South Bend were innovators in their own right, but it wasn't until the 1970s, when tournament fishing really came of age, that fishing reels advanced by leaps and bounds.

"Tournament anglers need reels that they can depend on," Page said. "You are out there for eight hours throwing cast after cast. It adds up. We put more time on a reel in one tournament than most anglers do in a whole year."

Distance matters

When the water finally filled the flat, Page could see trout and redfish working a bait school along an oyster bar.

The fish were easily spooked, and each time a bird soared overhead, the shadow sent them running for cover.

"I don't want to get too close," Page said. "This might be the only chance we have."

As Page stood on the bow, ready to make his cast, I envisioned a field-goal kicker on the 45-yard line, praying that he had enough juice left in a tired leg to put it through the uprights.

I wouldn't dare try such a long cast, lest I throw my arm out of its socket. But Page didn't hesitate. He heaved back and let fly across the wind. The silver plug landed with a splash. He gave it a couple of twitches, then a silver-sided beast rose up and smashed it with its jaws.

"Nice cast," I said.

"Not really," Page countered. "I was hoping to get it out there a little further."

More than a car?

Page and Sweet had me sold. Today's fishing reels are truly technological marvels.

The only thing standing between me and a new fishing reel was the price. The top of the line Shimano spinning reels start between $200 and $300.

My mind raced back to high school, when Chuck, the guy who owned the service station down the street, sold me a 1963 Rambler Ambassador that belonged to the proverbial little old lady who only drove it to church on Sundays. The price: $250.

That was, and still is, a lot of money. For that kind of jack, I want a 327-cubic-inch, four-barrel V-8 with red-velvet interior and make-out seats. Now that would be my kind of fishing reel.

Shimano Stradic 400F1

Shimano Spheros series $79.99

This workhorse reel is popular with fishing guides and beginning anglers because of its durability. Built with an aluminum frame, the Spheros has a screw-in handle, a waterproof drag system, an anti-reverse feature and anti-rust bearings.

Shimano Stradic series $179.99

Extra features include a gear-durability enhancement system and a line-management system that results in significantly fewer wind knots with braided line. Also has a one-piece bail wire, screw-in aluminum handle, its Aero Wrap II Oscillation feature (wraps braided line on the spool more evenly) and a maintenance port on the side so the reel can be oiled without taking it apart.

Shimano Stella series $699.99

Comes with the company's SR-3D Gears (exceptional out-of-the-box smoothness), magnesium frame/side plate and aluminum rotor for increased lightness, rigid support drag (maximum drag is 24 pounds, which is impressive for such a small reel) and a body that is balanced from the tip of the spool to the rear of the reel, which cuts down on hand fatigue.

[Last modified December 13, 2007, 21:15:17]