Coffee machine is on the fire. Still dark outside as usual. Don’t know why but… but my mind get back to the Sociological studies i did…and the coffee is not ready yet. One of my favorite one, was the “Cognitive Dissonance” Theory (Festinger). Those two world that live inside and outside us, which struggle our life often. Who i think i’m? and who other people think i’m.? It’s a long and difficult work, aimed to find a balance between these worlds…..these two worlds that, unfortunatly too often, are like uncommunicating paradigms.
But still can’t understand why those thoughts came up to my mind this morning. I feel a bit critic, just pissed off about something i don’t know…maybe a dream i made last night and now, it just got lost in the “mare magnum” of my inconscious.
Have you ever talked to a Bamboo rod? They are like us. There are canes nervous, and others very relaxing, there are some selfish and others very generous. And of course they can be complacent or arrogant, conceited or humble.
To the last Somerset show there was a bunch of these guys. Never seen so much split cane sto the show, at least since the last 3 years. When you approaching a rack or a table where they are gently welcomed and where they can easily show who they think they are, you can hear their voices.
– “Come on, you look like a nuddle….a light breeze, some old trout and you’re done!” Said a dark and well dressed split cane. She was talking to a blonde one layed just close to her. But the blonde got red on her face and didn’t reply to the teasing of the dark one.
My attention had been kept by those words, but i didn’t want give them too much attention, as it seemed to be something of private. So i start to watch some feathers on the other side of the isle; eyes on the feathers and ears to the canes.
– “Hey!!!” – Spoke loud one of them. “Hey you…dark! Where are you going with that jewellery….is already carnival? Or you come directly from the Baroque Age?”.
Wow! I thought!….things are becoming interesting now. So i turn back heading to the canes booth. I watched again at the blonde one…she was very classic, with its natural color wraps, a nice cigar shaped cork and a simply and light downlocking reel seat. Then the tail of my eyes felt down on the dark one. She was that kind of cane very well dressed. All the metal parts had been nicol engraved with trout face garbbing on a plastic pose an ephemera…just a little bit above the water surface. The jewellery, the dark color, a nice shape of the handle and the total cleaned wraps, gave to that rod a royal aspect.
– “Be careful guys…a shaker is coming” – a deep voice coming from past interrupted the chatting of the other canes. It was an old Garrison, sweetly layed on a red drap with its metal tube which like a body guard were sat just closet to her.
I knew that the wonderful Rod coming out from the Master’s hands, was referring to me, when she said “shaker”. What they didn’t know yet, was that wouldn’t have shook them…..at least this was what I thought,
“He won’t shake us guys!” said the third one. She was a very nice rod, medium flamed, dark honey color, with a swell on the last 2 inches of the handle. She was sexy like the bends of a woman in the ‘50s.
“He’s a builder!” keep talking her. “Look at his hands…dirty and burnt by files and sand papers, varnishes and glues”.
In the meantime a couple of guys where passing throught the isle. They looked like those kind of fishermen who mostly want to hunt. Big fish in any conditions and no matter about how they catch them….streamers mostly, but also very heavy nymphes and when the day is not good, San Juan worm is the last chance.
One of them pulled the other one to him. With a movement of his head invited his friend to look at the table of canes…..then both loudly laughing, keep wolking staright to the booth of the feathers. “Youth nowadays don’t know anymore the meaning of the word respect!” – the wise Garrison said.
I started to pass my finger on the blonde one….don’t need your eyes to check how flat is the cane when no imperfection on varnishing and node treatement are found.
The blonde passed very smooth between my hands. You couldn’t feel any interruption during the path….you couldn’t feel the nodes neither, when the edge of my finger caress them. The blonde was just wonderfully flat. Then i started to look at her strips. Nice distance between the nodes, perfectly staggered using the 3×3 style.
“You know, each product have its weak point” – esclaimed the Garrison. So putting down the blonde i was approaching the old and wise cane.
“Which is yours?” – i replied
“Mine is that you can’t afford my price” –
I smiled and didn’t touch it. Just start to watch that old cane very close.
The aged color was beautiful. The Master did the great job and the time, with its years, had completed the work. On a closer look i could see something that to the modern eyes can appear like small imperfections, but on that Cane they were like wrinkles on the face of a fifty year old very charming woman.
“Hold one boy! Let me work….this is my real deal for today”
That aged woman jumped in a quick on its other side, setting itself in a way that the lights could show better its best side profile where the vanrnish could appear more sparkling and the write 202E showed itself clearly”.
“This guy is a collector!” whispered the Garrison.
The eyes of the man went straight to the Garrison handle.
“Boy if i’m lucky, soon i’ll have a new house. He will treat me like a real Lady. I’ll have my room in a well aired place, humidity free all the other full options treatment. I’ll rest mosto f my time; i’ll get cured, cleaned and watched…..yes proudly watched…..yes sometimes we can have some movement..some lawn casting just in front the porch…….but my old bones won’t get anymore that letal humidity along the banks of a river.”
This made me a little bit sad…but that’s the way it went. The well riased, educated and dressed man, didn’t shake the rod. He didn’t joint the pieces neither. He knew everything about that taper. He wrote and read the most important Forum about Vintage Tackle Collections. So he just put the rod in the bag and the bag in the tube. Paid the man and went away. I just got the time to see last piece of the Garrison’s smiling face when smoothly went into the tube.
There had been a moment of complete silence when the man walked away with his Garrison. That kind of screaming silence you can often see during a departure.
Clearly, between the swelled but rod and the one with the jewellery, there wasn’t good feeling. So after the silence and melanconic whisper of the blonde one, they started to tease each other.
They were interrupted by the owner of the booth. He was with a client interested on the dark one. So the booth owner picked up her, put togheter the pieces and gave the rod to the guy.
He took the rod strongly in his right hand and start to feel the rod.
“Holy shit!” Esclaimed the swelled one. “That’s a true shacker!!!”
Then suddendly the guy put the rod on the table, and as he was checking the spine of the rod, he started to flex and rotate the rod.
“Ohhh! Auch!….come on stop now!”
The dark one was exhausted when the guy let her finally free.
Don’t ask me why, but this guy did the same also with the swelled one….with i the did also one more thing. ….he put the last 40 inches of the tip layed down on the floor and handling the rod by the handle, flexed the rod several time.
Then, like Dartagnan who had choosed the right sword, he headed to the casting pool…..The screaming of the swelled one arrived until the booth.
“This guy is crazy!” and more
“He’s not able to understand the different of using my butt or my tip!!!”
“Help me please….he’s driving me crazy!”
Mostly you have two big categories of casters. The good casters lead the rod and make the rod doing what they want. They know how to use more the butt in specific conditions or when they have more speed from a soft rod.
Then there is the majority of casters. They left that the rod lead the game. The guy who was casting the swelled one, was (in his mind a good caster), but in the mind of the swelled one a kind of canes serial killer.
When he finally got back to the booth, his face was happy and satisfied. So he picked up the swelled one, paid the guy and went away.
I can still hear the screams of the swelled one alla long the isle
“Help me please…don’t let me go with this terrorist”
….then, when they get to the exit door the screams were swollowed by the distance.
“Wow…what a strange day!” I thought. The dark cane and his jewellery was a bit frustrated by the choice of the last guy. The blonde seemed to don’t care about it.
I told them “don’t worry guys. It’s not possible that an angler don’t like a split cane bamboo rod. He only need to find the right one for him”
This was the only think i was able to do to chear up a little bit the two lonely canes.
The voice of the speaker announced that the show was closing in half an hour. So i went back to my booth.
All my canes were there. Peacefully resting on their cotton bag.
Only the younger one seemed to be a little excited..
“where have you been?” she asked to me.
I went to buy cigarettes has been my answer.