Telescopic fishing rods are made for the angler on the move. Their fast-tapered design enables them to collapse into the handle section, such that they're short enough to fit into:~
So telescopic rods are extremely convenient, as once collapsed they’re entirely self-contained and small enough to pop into a shoulder back along with a few other items of tackle, 'just in case' the opportunity to wet a line presents itself.
To enable one section to slide inside its neighbour, a single line guide is fixed at the narrower end of each section.
In most cases this means that they're designed for use with fixed spool reels rather than multipliers, which would require more line guides. Why? Well ...
OK, it is possible to use a fixed spool reel on a rod intended for a multiplier, providing you're happy with shorter casts than you'd otherwise achieve - but not the other way round, as if you use a multiplier reel on a rod intended for a fixed spool reel, the line will rub against the blank, damaging both rod and line.
A Telescopic Rod
Click Here for more details...
One of the things I particularly like about telescopic rods is the fact that they can be left rigged with the reel in place, and the line threaded through the guides while in 'short' mode. Very useful when you're scrabbling around on slippery, seaweed covered rocks between venues, when a long cumbersome rod can only add to your problems.
Telescopic rods are generally not quite as robust as normally sectioned rods and must be used with care. But if the choice is going fishing with a telescopic fishing rod or not going fishing at all, then it's a no-brainer for most of us.
We were motoring ashore in the inflatable dinghy, leaving Alacazam anchored in the bay, outside Jolly Harbour in Antigua. Mary needed to get some beads for her jewelry making hobby – I was just the helmsman. I’d got my collapsible fishing rod with designs on pulling out a few mullet from the marina while Mary was poking around in the shop. Hopes of this were dashed when we arrived at a distinctly closed handicraft shop.
Soon though, we were hurtling alarmingly towards St Johns (Antigua’s capital) in a local bus, where Mary thought we’d find a craft shop open for business. I wasn’t too depressed – I like Bob Marley at maximum volume – and I knew that the bus terminal was right on the waterfront at St Johns.
Ears ringing with the memory of ‘the man’ and his Wailers we duly arrived – Mary wandering off in search of the craft shop and me, collapsible fishing rod in hand, towards the waterfront fish market.
I baited up with a sliver of tuna, cow-hitched on a self-cocking float to assist in casting, and looked for a suitable spot between the moored fishing boats.
I didn’t know what to expect – but what happened next was completely out of the blue.
Immediately my line landed in the water, a dozen or more large dark shapes rushed out from the shadows beneath the adjacent boat. The bait vanished in one swirl and the float in another. A short, but violent snatch on the rod and then … nothing.
Peace returned, the tarpon (for that’s what they were, every bit of 30lb apiece), and obviously well used to being 'hand fed' in this way, slid back to the sanctuary beneath the boat and the surface of the water gradually re-established itself.
A voice from the fishing boat – “Hey Mon, dem’s our pets. Lea'dem alone!”
Chastened, I did as instructed, and set off in search of Mary.
Just how many times have you said “I wish I had my rod with me” when an unexpected fishing opportunity presents itself?
Plenty, I’ll bet, but with a telescopic fishing rod to hand you’ll never have to say it again.