This account describes our fishing on 20 April 2022. Its comments on tackle, work and car ownership belong to the original 2022 text.
I was able to catch up with an old fishing acquaintance.
I was testing rigs, so my catch was a rather modest two fish. My wife caught 16, with the largest around 26–27 cm. She thought our acquaintance had probably caught ten or so.
What were the aji feeding on?
The rigs I had prepared with plankton feeding in mind did not really suit this spot that night. These days, conversations about ajing so often seem to suggest that aji eat nothing but plankton.
But in T Island’s fierce current that day, my wife said, “I could see the aji chasing small fish.”
So, even here in the fast water, the situation changes a little from day to day.
Soft lures aimed entirely at imitating tiny shrimp-like prey did not produce especially well. The Puffnake did reasonably well again, but the Aji Adder Pro was better.
My wife’s view: “The Puffnake moves a little stiffly. The Aji Adder Pro moves more supplely.”
Testing the rods
I was also testing a rod. I had polished the VARIVAS 63 to make it more supple, because its sensitivity had fallen short of the VARIVAS 610.
It had improved considerably and felt almost beyond complaint. So I asked my wife to try it.
She immediately caught several fish in succession. Later, when the bites began to slow, she switched back to her own 610.
“I can feel the current in finer detail with my own rod,” she said.
The 63 had a Stella fitted. Her impression of the reel was: “It has a lovely, luxurious feel when you close the bail. After that, perhaps it is a sort of wealthy person’s smoothness…”
A lighter setup
My VARIVAS 610 carried a 2020 Luvias; hers had a Tatula. I asked her to try my setup too.
The moment she held it: “Oh? It is light. Why?”
“The reel is a little lighter,” I said—about 17 g lighter.
“Oh, I see…” She seemed pleased with the weight. She also said the bites came through with a clear knock.
For reading the current, though, she still preferred her own rod.
We decided that her reel would become a 2020 Luvias too. As for the Vanquish, I would have her test it before deciding.
Smoothness and the feeling of a fish
Shimano has the more luxurious feel, but I think Daiwa’s reels let a fish’s bite come through the rod more clearly.
A Shimano reel feels smooth to wind, with a softness to the gearing and a pleasing sense of quality. Yet I feel that some of the most delicate, direct vibrations of a bite are absorbed within that smoothness. I miss the excitement of feeling directly connected to a bite full of life.
Shimano reels always seem to speak of the angler having the upper hand. There is a satisfaction in that too.
At home, handling one gives a richer sense of satisfaction than a Daiwa. Then, while fishing—or more precisely, while winding—you feel that expensive smoothness.
In a way, why not? Landing a fish with that unhurried, almost slow-motion composure has its appeal. But I do not want to miss even a microscopic bite.
The Exist does not look or feel overwhelmingly luxurious to me. Fit it to a rod, though, and the sensitivity of the whole setup rises. The Luvias is sensitive too, and light at 150 g.
The Vanquish is another 5 g lighter, but I do not get that exceptionally fine sensitivity from it. It winds more lightly than the Stella and starts turning readily. It also avoids the tiny sense of play I notice in Daiwa reels, which is good.
Still, it is a Shimano: to me, fish and angler do not quite become one. For someone who does not need that sensation, it is a fine reel.
As a finished reel, Shimano may be ahead. But people’s preferences differ. I use both, each in its own way.
When the fish are biting, a high-end Shimano is good. For searching for fish as though through a microscope, it is not the reel I would choose as my testing instrument.
I would like a Daiwa until I feel the bite and set the hook—and a Shimano to do the winding after that.
From reels to sports cars
Shimano is a luxury saloon: Mercedes-Benz, or the one with the L badge. I would not put it beyond that, into Rolls-Royce territory.
Daiwa is a rather nice sports car, though not yet an ultra-luxury one.
Unfortunately, I do not own either kind of expensive car. I have never owned an ultra-luxury sports car, but I have sat in a Ferrari worth ¥4 billion.
Why ¥4 billion? Because it was a vintage Ferrari—and a 250 GTO, at that.
Fewer than ten existed worldwide, and two were in Japan. I was there as the photographer.
It was a red 250 GTO, sitting on the broad lawn of the Ferrari museum in Gotemba, with nobody around.
I climbed in, took the steering wheel and put my hand on the gear lever.
“Youth. Was this the youth of Enzo himself? I could feel that lively sensibility.”
Hmm. It reminded me, rather insistently perhaps, of how I had felt at 25.
At the time, I was photographing a collection of several dozen Ferraris for posters and telephone cards.
It was, quite literally, the time of Japan’s economic bubble. I know quite a few things about how events unfolded then, but they had no direct connection to me. Personally, I had very little money and lived modestly.
I created the museum’s first website, but I was simply an ordinary working person. My work then was photography and painting. Unfortunately, I had no great financial resources.
Translation note: the original gives fewer than ten 250 GTOs worldwide. That figure is retained as part of the author’s account; Ferrari’s published history gives 36 examples. The ¥4 billion amount is also part of the original account, not a current valuation.
The work my wife and I do together
I still paint. And now I have other work too.
My wife and I make audio cables together, under a name that has attracted attention in the audio world internationally: ELPISPANDORA.
I design them; my wife makes them. She does most of the practical work.
Of course, I help a little too—somewhere around 5–15%.
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