Another day at the Catskill Rodmakers Workshop has come to an end, and I wrap the finished strips of bamboo with tape and nestle them into the familiar hexagon shape that has been associated with the genre for more than 150 years. These six tapered strips form the middle section of my 3-piece bamboo rod, and join those of the butt section previously completed. I am some halfway through the planing process at this juncture.
Driving home from Livingston Manor the big, wet snowflakes are still flying, seeming almost suspended in front of my windshield; a lovely Catskill spring afternoon!
I was thinking this morning of the joys I have savored as my interests have wound along the historic path of split bamboo and great rodmakers. Ed loved his short rods, particularly a diminutive Thomas & Thomas dubbed The Gnat. His interest was piqued when I offered Tom Smithwick’s five-and-a-half-foot gem for him to cast many years ago. Tom would make one of those miraculous little rods for him some time later.
The first rod made for me came from the skilled hands of Wyatt Dietrich. Seven-and-a-half-feet, casting a number five line with dreamlike grace, the rod emblazoned the Sturtevant Dry Fly started me down this path in search of the beauty and history of angling.
These days I can easily count the handful of days each season when split bamboo does not grace my hand. The lovely reed has become a part of me, a key element in the essence of my angling passion. I might be found with any one of several Catskill classics: perhaps a rod from Dennis Menscer, whose works are the current class of those traditions, or a Leonard born as many years ago as I was.
Having the opportunity these past months to use my own hands to craft a rod has heightened my appreciation for such masters. I have spent many hours, working while learning the techniques required to produce a fishable fly rod, and there are still many tasks and many hours ahead. I sat back after breakfast today to watch one of my favorite films. Chasing The Taper chronicles a group of top rodmakers, many of whom I am pleased to know. In one scene Per Brandin speaks of pondering the amount of time and labor required to produce a single trout rod, “its daunting” he exclaims, and never have truer words been spoken. The film makes that point very clear, together with the overriding fact that it is, very much, a labor of love.
Though this fitful spring has allowed a few days for wandering bright waters, the gift of dry fly fishing has yet to be bestowed. This is the pinnacle of angling for which the classic Catskill bamboo rod was born, the magic time on legendary rivers for which the rods have been refined over a century and a half. That day is coming, and there is nothing to do but continue down the path to meet it upon arrival!
Bright Waters Catskill 