The lure of handmade rods

Custom-built fishing rods worth a cost of their own among anglers.

Published online on Wednesday, Mar. 04, 2009

In a world where product rolls off the assembly line, it's comforting to know there still are places where folks build things by hand.

One such place is an 8-by-12-foot wooden shed in Al Espinoza's backyard. That's where the 71-year-old Fresno man builds custom fishing rods using techniques he learned half a century ago.

"The rods you buy at Big 5 and Wal-Mart are mass produced at some factory in China," says the silver-haired Espinoza, looking up from one of his latest creations.

"They don't take the time I take with these rods. Everything is precise down to the gnat's butt."

Practically a lost art, except among a few devotees, rod building is a painstaking process that requires equal shares patience, steady hands and spools of nylon thread.

Racks filled with rods, most made on the premises, line the walls of Espinoza's workshop. Dozens of homemade lures of assorted sizes, shapes and colors hang from string and thumbtacks. Two lathes and a finish drier take up an entire wall. There are buckets of thread spools, packs of metal guides and photos from satisfied customers. A small pot of coffee percolates on the shelf.

In 1959, when Espinoza started working for a fishing rod and reel company owned by a wealthy Mendota melon farmer, they made fiberglass rods straight from cloth, which adds several steps. Today, most everyone orders pre-made blanks.

Which blank depends on the type of fishing, and there are hundreds to choose from of varying lengths, thicknesses, composition and action. Bass anglers want a rod that's flexible only near the tip so they can quickly set the hook (fast action). Kokanee anglers want one that bends throughout its arc to compensate for that fish's soft, fleshy mouth (slow action).

Wrapping the rod

When Espinoza begins a new rod, the first thing he does is perform what's called a spline check. It involves bending the blank and studying how and where it curves.

"Each rod bends a certain way," Espinoza says.

Having that knowledge is essential for placing the guides, those tiny metal hoops that the line runs through. They all have to be aligned, as do the reel seat and foregrip, which slide over the thick end.

Espinoza uses 1/8-inch thick masking tape to temporarily attach the guides to the blank. To ensure they're aligned, he runs a string down the middle, bends it and makes sure each one sits at a stress point.

"Think of the guides like sights on a rifle," Espinoza says. "If you don't have them on straight, you're not going to hit your target."

The next step, wrapping, probably requires the most time and skill. Each guide gets wrapped to the rod with thin nylon thread (silk on fly rods). Espinoza uses a motorized lathe to spin the rod, which helps keep each wrap tight and straight.

Most of the rods Espinoza builds are double wrapped, and some are even triple wrapped. That entails layering thicker thread on top of thinner thread, adding even more strength. Hard to fathom, but a typical double-wrapped rod uses some 200 yards of thread.

Each wrap gets three coats of sealer, which helps preserve the thread's color. When that dries, each wrap is finished with two-part epoxy, carefully measured with syringes and applied with a thin paintbrush. A slow-spinning finish drier helps ensure a uniform coat. It takes at least eight hours to make a rod.

"It's a long, painstaking process," says Terry Walton, who builds custom rods at his home near Pine Flat Lake. "Maybe that's why there are so few of us doing this."