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Hooked on BambooIn a graphite world, Sweetgrass Rods Defines Old School
By Ken Wysocky
Photo courtesy Sweetgrass Rods
If fly fishing is indeed a religion, then its Mecca is Twin Bridges, Montana, a sleepy globug of a town that lures fly-fishing purists the way stonefly nymphs attract steelhead trout.
Nestled in the Ruby Valley, above the confluence of the trout-laden Big Hole and Beaverhead Rivers, this tiny burg of 400 or so folks is more than just the epicenter of fly-fishing nirvana. It’s also home to Sweetgrass Rods, where master rod maker Glenn Brackett and his old-school rod whisperers—nicknamed the Boo Boys—fashion sublimely beautiful fly rods the old-fashioned way: one micro-thin sliver of bamboo at a time.
Bearded and soft-spoken, Brackett is revered in fly-fishing circles worldwide. In his craftsmanship, one can trace the arc of a long line of rod-making legends like Lew Stoner, Doug Merrick and Gary Howells, Brackett’s mentor. No wonder angling aficionados covet Brackett-made rods the way guitar junkies lust after 1950s-era Fender Strats.
Photo courtesy Sweetgrass Rods
Brackett, 71, amiably shrugs off his rock-star status. “I don’t give it much thought,” he says as he makes his way through a cluttered workshop, which is essentially a frat house for fishing guys—only not as neat. “We just make fishin’ sticks.”
Behind that understatement, Brackett knows full well why anglers from as far away as Argentina, Australia and Spain come here to shake his hand and watch the Boys make bamboo dust. With more than 90 years of collective rod-making experience, Brackett and his brethren practice a mystical alchemy that breathes life into bamboo, connecting fisherman and river in a sepia-tinged, 1920s *** river-runs-through-it time warp.
“One thing I’ve learned is that invisible hands play into things when I do this work—unseen masters and mentors—and it’s amazing how it enhances the experience,” says Brackett, decked out in the Sweetgrass uniform: flannel shirt, olive-green khakis, fleece vest and blue Crocs. “Each rod takes on a life of its own.”
“Our customers buy something that’s in the realm of the intangible—the heart and soul that the builder puts into it,” explains Boo Boy Mike Watson as he offers me a cold beer. “That’s what we’re selling.”
Of course, channeling your inner Norman Maclean has its price. To own a Sweetgrass rod, prepare to pony up two large or more. (On the Internet, older Brackett-made rods also fetch some serious coin—$3,000 or more). And if you want one for that bromantic fishing trip you’re planning for next spring, fuggedaboutit; elephants almost bear children faster than the 1-1/2 years you’ll wait to take delivery.
“We can make about 160 rods a year,” Watson says. “That’s a breakneck pace for making bamboo rods.”
What’s so special about bamboo? In short, it’s all about finesse and touch, not to mention a connection to a bygone era, Watson points out.
“Everything is in slow motion with bamboo,” he says. “It’s more of a flow thing.”
The Boys make rods out of Tonkin, or tea stick, bamboo, which grows only in the Canton region of China. “Tonkin bamboo is stronger and straighter than most species,” notes Brackett. “You determine the density by its sound and weight. The right ones have a certain ring to them, like a piece of fine crystal.”
The building process begins with a maul-like hand tool called a star cutter, which cleanly cleaves the 12-foot-long sections of bamboo into strips. After some hand-sanding to remove any nodes, the Boys gently guide the pieces through a homemade milling machine that splits them into even thinner strips. At the same time, it bevels the edges accordingly to build either four, five or six-sided rods (known as quads, pents and hexes).
Then the strips are baked at 350 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes. “This tempers them for strength, and gives them color as the sugar content changes. It’s sort of like browning cookies,” Brackett chuckles.
After that, the Boys painstakingly glue the pieces together, then bind them with fine cotton thread to form what’s called a blank. Then the blanks sit in a humidifier for a couple months to prevent cracking, followed by a six- to eight-month drying period.
Finally, it’s time to trick out the rods with nickel-silver reel seats, ferrules, line guides and handles made of cork from Portugal, followed by three coats of spar varnish that gives them a rich, honey-colored ShamWow luster. Then—voila!—a 3-1/2-ounce masterpiece of understated elegance is ready for action.
“Building a rod involves about 4,500 individual steps,” Brackett says. “About 250 of the steps are different for each rod, but the rest are repetitive.”
Brackett estimates he’s made about 1,500 rods during his career, which includes more than 30 years as both an employee and owner of the iconic R.L. Winston Rod Company, founded in 1929 in San Francisco. His roots with Winston run deep; as a boy, Brackett’s father and grandfather, both avid fly fishermen, took him to the Winston shop in San Francisco, where he watched craftsmen at work. “I’m sure it got in my blood there,” he says.
After years of building bamboo rods as a hobby, Brackett became a Winston employee in 1975. A short time later, he became a partner with then-owner Tom Morgan, and the duo moved the company to Twin Bridges in 1976 to be closer to world-class trout fishing. In 1991, they sold the business to Canadian businessman David Ondaatje.
Photo courtesy Sweetgrass Rods
The move eventually created a schism that rocked the fly fishing world. Brackett and the Boys chafed over the outsourcing of graphite rod production to China and what they felt was too much emphasis on profits and productivity. After years of escalating disagreements, the Boys collectively gave notice and quit (after completing a backlog of orders, Brackett points out).
Watson compares the rancorous split to “an incredibly bad divorce.” But on a positive note, the experience informs everything at Sweetgrass, from its all-for-one, one-for-all business philosophy (witness the bumper sticker on a cabinet that reads, “To really cut costs, outsource the CEO”) to its open-door policy for customers.
“Anyone can come in and watch us work,” notes Watson. “We get a couple hundred visitors a year. It’s very humbling. But they don’t come just to buy a rod. They come to pay their respects to what we stand for and what we’re trying to do.”
Of course, it’s best to call ahead, as the Boys just might be out testing product on their favorite R&D facility, the nearby Beaverhead. As you’d expect here in Twin Bridges, it’s something they do, well, religiously.
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