I keep my fly fishing gear on a dedicated shelf in one of the red Craftsman locking cabinets over the workbench in my shop. Historically, it has never been organized; instead, I’ve just tossed in my reels and fly boxes and my Simms chest pack and whatever else would fit in there. There was no semblance of organization beyond “the shelf” on which these things resided, and in the five years that I employed this system, nothing stayed lost for more than five minutes.
Several months ago, I undertook a large spring cleaning effort around the house. No stone was left unturned, and that included this specific red Craftsman locking cabinet. After much time spent in deep thought blocking the aisle of the Walmart that held the storage bins and containers, I arrived, in my mind, at some optimal combination of storage receptacles that would make me more organized and, most importantly, more efficient at mobilizing and demobilizing from fishing trips. Reels in their own little sorter, fly boxes and leaders in theirs, and the fly tying materials were also packed up and labeled in a very pleasing manner. I live in the driest city in the United States, so it was several weeks before I was able to turn my attention back towards my fly gear.
I have fished little else for the last several years besides my beloved 7’6″ 3-weight, made by and gifted to me from mentor. Beyond the sentimental value, I cannot imagine a graphite fly rod being any more tactile or easy to cast. For the thin blue lines that I like to fish, it is absolutely unbeatable.
In the interest of maximizing every second of available fishing time, these days I’m usually given to setting up my rods at home, rather than streamside. So I pulled the rod out of the Alpine case hanging from the garage ceiling and put it together; when all four pieces were mated, I went back over to the cabinet to search for the complementary reel, a Ross Gunnison II set up with a RIO Creek line matched to the weight of the rod. It is a deadly — and deadly beautiful — combination.
Pull out the bin so carefully labeled Fly Reels, flip through them… where the hell is the Gunnison?
What did I do with it?
Unfortunately, that is a question that I have not been able to answer, even today. I am sure it’s somewhere equally close and stupid. Never one to let reality get in the way of a good fishing trip, I decided to put the two most valuable skills an outdoorsman can have into practice — improvisation and stubbornness.
My Ross reels are like Schrodinger’s children; at the same time, I could both never pick a favorite among them, and yet they are all my favorites… all at once. I grabbed by 5-weight floating setup, a Ross Cimarron II reel strung up with Scientific Anglers’ old standy Air Cel floating line, and mounted the handsome and almost art-deco reel to the 3-weight and brought it out back for some practice casts in the pool.
I had never overlined the 3-weight before, and and wasn’t sure what to expect with the 5-weight line. To my surprise… there was less difference than expected. It cast fine through a variety of distances, and the slower action on the rod felt pretty nice. Being pleasantly surprised is great.
There are very few brands in this world that I feel any sort of strong loyalty towards, but Ross Reels stands alone in my mind in the world of fly gear. Their reputation for extremely well-made — and made in the USA — gear that punches above their reasonable price tag has been established for decades. They are functional works of art; the kinds of things which tug on the heartstrings of gun enthusiasts, hot rodders, typewriter aficionados, and, yes, fly fishermen.
For where I usually fish, the reel generally doesn’t come into play at all. But man, it is so satisfying to look down and see that work of modern art and machining at the end of your fly rod.
During the course of my exploratory casting in the pool, I looked down and admired the Cimarron. It is certainly different in aesthetics than the Gunnison, and I don’t mean that disparagingly. Rather than the Gunnison’s obvious nod to the history of fly reels (Hardy, etc.), the Cimarron is stylized — it has Ross’ fingerprints all over it. I like these fingerprints. They are rife with disegno and never tacky, which is more than I can say about some reels on the market.
I must have missed the news last year that the Cimarron has been re-designed yet again and is once again back into production. The new reels look (unsurprisingly) great, offered in your choice of flashy, matte anodization and are priced under $300. The song remains the same, and that’s great. The Ross Cimarron, of all of their offerings, is the best contender for the title of The People’s Champ Fly Reel.
I’m also glad to see that I’m not the only person who’s arrived at this thought independently; Brian Flechsig of Mad River Outfitters concurs, as well.
With all of these plaudits, you could be forgiven for thinking this is some sort of consumerist diatribe, intended to get you to find a used one on the Electronic Bay, or head down to your local fly shop and pick one of the new ones up (I certainly encourage everyone spending as much money as they can in a great fly shop). But beyond the objective excellence of the reel and the ooh, shiny! aspect of fly reels in general… when I look at my Cimarron on the end of my fly rod, I think back to who gave it to me and where we were, and I think about all of the miles in the truck and in the water that we’ve shared together. And, of course, about all of the misadventures, too.
An aversion to mindless consumerism doesn’t mean you have to throw the baby out with the bathwater, nor does it mean that one should embrace products of inferior quality, just because. Instead, it means you should be comfortable investing in high-quality tools that will last several lifetimes and give you joy and satisfaction when you use them. For myself and many others, the Ross Cimarron checks all of those boxes.
Epilogue: what was less great was that when I arrived at the creek in question the next morning, I found that it was mostly gone.
I suppose that’s a story for another day. Sometimes out here, it does get weird enough for me.
Ed. Note: we have no relationship with Ross Reels at the time of publication, and if you want to pick up a Cimarron of your own, we strongly encourage folks to buy from your local fly shop. If, for some reason, you don’t want to support your local fly shop directly, you can purchase a reel through our affiliate link, and we’ll earn a small amount from qualifying purchases.
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