Fishing The Test - A Sweet Little Hardy Fiberglass Fly Rod

A couple years ago, I spotted a sweet House of Hardy fiberglass fly rod on eBay. My buddy Jeff had sent me a link to show me some other fly rod he'd been eyeballing. I don't recall if the one he was after was fiberglass or bamboo, but what I do recall is my reaction to this lovely deep-green Hardy fiberglass rod that showed up in the "other options" portion of the page.

It was new, but that didn't take away much of the appeal for me. It was a Hardy, and it looked the part. Just as impressive as the perfectly detailed rod were the accouterments: a matte green rod tube with a real cork plug, a sleeve to protect the rod tube (really), a shiny ferrule plug, and a sleeve for the rod itself. All with the fetching House of Hardy mark. I was smitten.

I had to point the rod out to Jeff. In the spirit of sharing, you know. I wasn't actually expecting him to buy it, but I wasn't surprised either when he told me it was on its way to his house. I'd have been jealous, but I knew the only way I was going to enjoy that fly rod was vicariously.

The rod is called "The Test." It's a perfect small-stream number -- a 7.5-foot, 4-weight, with a cork reel seat.

Some time later, Jeff informed me that he'd (somehow) stumbled on another Hardy fiberglass rod -- this one an 8-foot, 5-weight called "The Trout Fisher." He went on a bit about how it was going to be hard for him to decide which one of the rods to fish on his favorite stream. I was thinking (and may have mentioned) that we should fish them side-by-side sometime. 

We finally got around to doing just that. We planned a couple days on Southeast Minnesota streams in early September with fishing the Hardys as a focal point. The weather seemed to have something different in mind, however. After nervously watching the rainfall totals, river gauges and forecasts for a good week before the brief excursion, we scaled the trip back to a one-day adventure. We hoped the smallest of streams, at least, would be fishable. And hoped that even if it was sketchy, it would be good to get out. As it turned out, there was plenty of fishable water.

Our first stop was at a favorite stretch of the South Branch of the Root River -- a roll of the dice -- where we hoped for a decent flow and a good trico hatch. The river was up, as we expected, and we knew it wouldn't fish well. We hopped back in the truck and headed a fair piece upstream. Our guess was better this time. In the river's upper reaches, the water clarity was good, and we could see rises from the bridge. Though this is skinny water upstream from Forestville State Park, it offered good space for casting, so at the very least we could air out the rods.

It turns out that the casting was excellent, but the catching left something to be desired. I fished The Test, and Jeff, The Trout Fisher. (I'd done some lobbying in advance.) In a couple hours, we tried a range of nymphs and dries, but nothing seemed to click. It appeared that we'd missed an early trico hatch (or so said the streamside spiderwebs), and the tiny blue-winged olives were spotty. 

The rises were few, mostly confined to flat water, and brought only refusals. Nymphs didn't do any better. We appeared to have neatly tucked ourselves between hatches. It wasn't until we decided to move on to another stream that Jeff picked up a couple on nymphs while fishing back to the truck.

I did get to drop a few casts with dries in front of a riser in a braided current, which I thought might give me a shot. It was a nice idea. I don't believe I had ever cast a smoother rod. The Test has a slowish, smooth action that let me put delicate casts right in that trout's feeding lane. For once, my presentation wasn't the problem.

But this fish was perfectly placed behind a sunken branch, making it nearly impossible to get the right drift. After too many casts, I got a refusal and gave up on him. I started casting to a spot a few feet away that looked suspicious, but by then I was just casting, so when the fish hit, I fumbled the hook set and missed it. He felt it, and that was that. It was tough to miss like that on a day that was by all indications going to be a slow one.   

Our next stop, even smaller water, put us in front of a few more rising trout. I picked up a couple brown trout on a size 18 BWO and missed a few others. We caught a few, and that seemed like a victory. When we'd fished the stretch we wanted, we moved back to the Root, in the park, to hit a couple last spots before hitting the road. 

After picking up a few trout and watching me miss some (almost as fun), Jeff caught a nice fish and called it a good one to end on. I was fishing just upstream and started to feel pressure to catch a decent fish to end on, too.

About to give up on that spot, I suddenly felt a fish. Barely. I was sure it was a small one, until it stopped moving toward me and instead put its nose to the bottom of the river looking for a sunken log. This was a real fish. And it bent the Hardy Test way into the butt. 

There was enough behind this rod to keep the trout away from the log and keep it from running. We measured the fish at about 16 3/4 inches. Jeff put the tape to it, so I had a real measurement and a witness. That's a good fish for these waters, and I was able to get past the thought that there might be more in that drop-off, and we called it. 

A good fish to end the day can turn an otherwise uneventful outing into a great day on the water. And this one gave me a chance to put The Test to the test. I may need just one more day with it, however, just to be sure.