 I engage in two types of fishing, both for “trout.” The first is pure sport fishing. I fish for selective feeding, invasive, wild brown trout. These fish are not native to Connecticut. They have overrun certain waterways and have the ability to adapt and survive even when the water warms in the summer. The second type of fishing is for native wild brook trout. Technically not trout, they are part of the char genus. Here, my focus is entirely on small streams and headwaters of larger streams and rivers. This type of fishing is part sport, part spiritual, part philosophical contemplation and part medicine. They are the most beautiful fish I have ever seen. Pound for pound, they fight like no other fish. They are spooky hunters, conditioned for survival. I’m in awe of them. In shallow, narrow streams, threats come from everywhere. Snakes, birds and other animals look for them. Warming waters choke them out of habitat. Streams dry up. Yet, they have continued to populate Connecticut for some 10,000 years. When I have the opportunity to hold one and gently return it to the water where it was taken, I’m healed and rejuvenated. They are a spiritual salve that heals the soul.  One recent day in early March, I headed out to a first order, unnamed stream very deep in a Connecticut forest. There were virtually no signs of fishing pressure, which is the kind of place I prefer. I stumbled upon a nice deep pool, as the stream curved and meandered through the forest. The water was gin clear. I did not see any fish upon my approach. Yet, this pool had all the attributes of holding a native wild brook trout. With an upstream presentation of a soft hacked wet fly with an overly long tale, I wondered if my freestyled fly with an orange hotspot resembled the kind of snack found in and around this pool. Several casts and retrieves in higher water columns revealed no fish life. On my next cast, I allowed my fly to descend to a more significant depth, and it began to fall deeper into a snaking flow of water between boulders almost on the stream floor. An inquisitive wild native brook trout emerged from a boulder to investigate and to sample the feathered delicacy… Of significance, this brook trout was a survivor. Not only have he and his ancestors negotiated an ever changing landscape for some 10,000 years, but he wore the signs of an obvious struggle. With scars on his left and right flanks, he escaped the talons of one or more predators. He is a true, courageous survivor, cloaked in beautiful colors… The good folks at Fox 61 CT profiled my bamboo fly rod building. Thanks Jim and Sean! Click HERE for the article. The video is below. I think it is fair to say that fly fishing with bamboo and building bamboo fly rods are paths less traveled. For those of us who gravitate toward such paths, we often find meaning in places others ignore, especially in a world where immediacy and excess are rewarded. My December was defined by the “path less traveled.” Fly fishing both a first-rate tailwater and abundant small streams, I’m fortunate to have options. High flows plagued my tailwater, and as such, I found myself finishing off the year fly fishing some great small streams. One of my favorite aspects of small stream fishing is never knowing where you will end up. December was marked with exploration, as I ventured up named small streams to unnamed first- and second-order tributaries. A fun time being embedded deep in nature. On the building side of things, I commenced work on a less common rod type: a five-sided or “penta” rod. I really like pentas. They are unique and often misunderstood. They require less glue, flex in the cane as opposed to in a glue line, and can bring about some additional power. I also very much like the look of spiral node staggering on an aggressively flamed rod. It can be hypnotic. Of course, it really comes down to the taper, not the number of strips. This particular rod is being designed as a “tailwater” rod, capable of delicate presentations to selective wild trout, but with sufficient backbone to handle a multitude of conditions. A possible resolution for the new year: Consider taking the long way home. It may be filled with wonderful surprises.
 Skills are subject to continual development. When I commenced building bamboo rods, I relied on power-tools to bring stock into a “manageable” condition. I aggressively removed stock to the desired workable size. I dictated to the power tools exactly what I wanted to achieve - the harder you push stock into a sander, the more stock is removed. Aside from machining metal components, the more rods I built, the more I gravitated toward hand-tools. Hand-tools provide a quiet environment where one can gently sculpt, shave, cut, bend, and otherwise manipulate stock. More importantly, hand tools force one to become part of the process, rather than dictating the process. Dismayed by the lack of quality, I eventually entered the wonderful world of Japanese hand tools.  Japanese Dovetail Pull Saw - I’ve come to rely heavily on my Japanese hand saw. Rod builders are continually adjusting strip length base on where they are in the building process. Rather than having a power tool rip through a strip of bamboo and cause it to fracture at an undesired location, my Japanese handsaw provides perfect, slow, crisp cuts at my target locations. Japanese Iwasaki File - Like many builders, bamboo nodes are a source of frustration and problems. We do everything to eliminate their troubling presence. We grind them down, press then, sand them, and even yell at them. A Japanese file will properly put the builder in his place. By allowing the file to cut, the builder is merely guiding the file in the desired direction. Soon, a small repetitive action of guiding the file will reduce the node to powder.  Japanese Froe - I started splitting culms with a froe. I had no idea what I was doing and the resulting bamboo strips proved this point. I then tried a bandsaw jig, a table saw jig, and star cutters. I then came full circle, only to start back at my froe. I tried again and settled on the use of a froe, vice and my two hands. My results have been the best, resulting in plentiful, workable strips.
There is a larger lesson to learn. Japanese hand-tools cannot be forced. Forcing such tools will induce error. However, when we accept our position in the process as maker and allow the tool to do the work for which it was designed, we create a wonderful team. The maker becomes part of the process, rather than a dictating force. Instead of prying back the pedals of a spring flower, we allow it to open when it is ready. Accepting our position in the larger process sometimes means slowing down, backing off, and witnessing the beauty unfold…when it is ready. What do bamboo rod building and Brazilian jiu-jitsu they have in common? bending…twisting…and perhaps a little more… John Danaher, former Colombia University philosophy Ph.D. student, and now one of the all-time greatest Brazilian jiu-jitsu and mixed martial arts coaches, holds that improvement in a particular area is predominately linked to skillset development and training. He further says that sometimes an ephemeral comment or meeting can drastically change one’s perspective and entire trajectory. Early in his career, Danaher had a fleeting, one-time meeting with Dean Lister, two-time ADCC world Champion. Lister had perfected leg locks as a mechanism for submission. Not fully appreciating the value of leg locks, Danaher discussed this with Lister. Lister simply asked Danaher, why would someone ignore half of the body. Perplexed, the former philosophy Ph.D. student and black belt, Danaher said, “I don’t know.” This brief, one-time meeting changed Danaher’s thinking and trajectory. He would go on to become one of the greatest Brazilian jiu-jitsu and mixed martial arts coaches of all-time, developing some of the greatest practitioners of all-time. These practitioners became known as “The Danaher Death Squad.” A significant focus was placed on leg locks. Among other things, he credited this brief, one-time meeting to changing his trajectory and methodology. I had the wonderful opportunity to attend the Catskill Rodmaker’s Gathering this month. With familial responsibilities, this was no easy task, and previous efforts had fallen short. I met up with a friend, who I knew for a few years from Connecticut. I had been thinking and constantly adjusting my technique for addressing nodes in bamboo rod strips for a long time. We discussed this. Like Lister, he said something brief, simplistic and piercing. I was bewildered and reminded of the almost speechless Danaher comment, “I don’t know.” For me, a lightbulb went off, and I was shocked that I had not considered his methodology. Luckily for me, lightbulbs continued to go off throughout the weekend as I met other rod makers and compared notes. A wonderful event with wonderful people.  I subscribe to the concept of Kaizen - continuous improvement. Bamboo rod building requires diverse skillsets (machining, woodworking, etc.). One day, the builder is cutting a fine taper into a piece of bamboo, and the next day he is adjusting the male slide of a ferrule with 3M polishing paper to achieve an almost airtight fit into a female ferrule. Then, the builder is tasked with joining wood and metal so they seamlessly work together to deliver a fly to an eager trout.
Rather than looking at the monumental task of building the ultimate, flawless rod (an ideal that is arguably non-existent), a better approach is making fine-tuned micro adjustments to one’s building on a daily basis. Learn from mistakes, embrace friction, and push the ball forward, even if daily advancement is small.  "Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans." - John Lennon Occupying the bookends of my day, and flanking lunch with old friends, my shop work did not go as planned. With a busy build schedule, I hoped to finish making an agate stripping guide and precision machining ferrules for a new rod. The back portion of the male slide of one ferrule was off by only 0.0003". Unfortunately, this made for a slightly loose fit and had to be rejected. Better luck tomorrow...  One of the greatest pleasures of fly fishing is the requirement of close observation of one’s environment. As one progresses, it becomes abundantly apparent that increased observation and attention to detail reveals the complex and beautiful world that God has created. The relationship and interdependence of each part of our natural world surely is the work of God. Our observations reveal that beetles account for 40% of all insect species (and 25% of all animals) on earth. See Gilliott, Cedric, Entomology (2 ed.) (1995). Given this observation, beetles should account for a decent percentage of space in an angler’s fly box. And for the small stream angler, that percentage should be even higher. This is a rather straightforward beetle pattern that I created. It is designed to solve a few problems: (1) Sight - Small streams, especially canopy laden and/or those in a valley, are notoriously shaded. Even on bright days, sun can be limited and variable. Being able to visually track flies is crucial. While beetles are often comprised of a number of colors, they are often predominately black. Black is tough to track on small streams. Although a flash of white or pearl can be helpful, in sunny areas or in a foam line, it can fade away into the background. For this fly I use SAAP Float-Vis in florescent chartreuse. Other florescent colors can work, such as yellow, pink or orange. The idea is to keep the visual post short so it is visible to the angler but not to the fish and to have a color that will not disappear into the background of the water surface. (2) Legs In Water - Bugginess is the name of the game. Providing something that is enticing and that masquerades as an easy, high caloric meal is key. Often, legs are tied too high on terrestrials and they ride above the water and defeat the purpose. So, I tie the legs on the bottom of the fly and arrange them so they gently slope downward in the water. I also use and prefer legs that are somewhat supple, which allows them to move, rather than using stiff legs with little movement. (3) Peacock - Peacock herl or spears can use used as the underbelly of the fly. While real peacock is incredibly reflective of light, it does have a tendency to be brittle. Here, I chose to dub Arizona Synthetic Dubbing in peacock. Here are the steps for tying the fly. See captions below photos for more detail. Click Play Below. …[F]or me the journey is truly the destination.” Fidgen, Tom. The Unplugged Woodshop: Hand-Crafted Projects for the Home & Workshop, p. 2. Tom Fidgen is a remarkable woodworker. I have two of his books, which provide a brief glimpse into his ingenious mind. He is a woodworker with a very quiet shop - there are no power tools.
Craft, in common parlance, seems to conjure up ideas of a messy workspace, things put together with less precision - the very first art class for a young child, smocks, paint and the need for a bath. It can be anxiety producing. Why do something messy by hand when a machine can produce a tidy output? These questions make meaningful conversation over crafting organic objects vs. mass produced plastic, almost fruitless. The driving force behind craft is passion. “People who lack passions of their own cannot understand the passions of others.” Hughes, Dave. Big Indian Creek, p.33. “Life offers fruits one would rather pluck himself.” Hughes, Dave. An Angler’s Astoria, 2nd ed., p. 48. Craft often requires far more personal resources than mass production, such as time, continual concentration and unwavering dedication in the face of tremendous opposition. From a mass production standpoint, it simply does not make sense. But it shouldn’t make sense, as their goals are antithetical. Craft is a journey of passion. Mass production is a journey of…mass production. One wakes the soul, the other blunts it. “…[H]istory-making is more gratifying than being swept along by it passively.” Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly. The Evolving Self, p. 12. There is a lot to learn from many of the master rod builders. As independent thinkers, many challenged the direction in which society was moving, opting for craftsmanship over mass production, organic materials over plastic. And within such a small bamboo rod making community, independent thinking flourished and innovation was realized - Edwards with heat, Powell with hollowing, etc.. They did not passively move through life; they made history. Today, those who choose to build and fish bamboo are making a history of their own, in the face of mass produced graphite and fiberglass. They value a quality of experience that cannot be replicated with synthetic products. And this quality of experience brings them closer to nature. Within this independent minded community, current makers have the ability to contribute to the evolution of bamboo rod making in meaningful ways. One such way is through the use of hollow building short, light weight rods. As a perpetual student, I’m experimenting with hollowing short, light weight rods in an effort to expand my education. While concepts of power-to-weight ratio, dampening and modulus are inextricably linked to rod performance, those who fully understand these complexities in relationship to rod taper and hollowing is arguably limited. At the end of the day, there must be a balance between a desired rod feel and required performance. This becomes a delicate marriage of art and function. Here are a few photos and videos of a recently built small stream blank with a hollowed butt section.
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