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Oyster's pearls of fly rods
from "The Atlanta Journal Constitution Sunday" Sports
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Sunday, Sept. 17 2000
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Continuing an old craft,
Gainesville's Bill Oyster
makes bamboo fly rods
By Scott Bernarde
sbernarde@ajc.com
The man worked the fly rod on an unnamed brown trout
stream in the Bighorn Mountains of north-central
Wyoming. But the 7-year-old boy couldn't figure out what
he was doing or why he was doing it.
The man, a friend of the boy's family and later a
fishing guide, used the rod like an artist's brush,
rhythmically sending out line in perfect candy-cane
loops, painting the stream with his casts.
Beautiful, yes, but young Bill Oyster was perplexed.
"I couldn't figure out what this guy with the long rod,
who wasn't catching any fish, was doing," Oyster said,
recalling that fishing trip from when his family lived
in Wyoming. "I was fishing with a Zebco and a can of
worms. I couldn't understand why he wasn't using one of
my worms."
Oyster, now 29 and living in Gainesville, eventually
figured it out, although his journey back to the art of
fly fishing has been a ride perhaps as wild as any Rocky
Mountain stream. A free spirit his whole life, he has
flown planes, raced bicycles, lived in six different
states, attended three major colleges and changes his
major with regularity.
Somehow, all of that helped forge what he is today - a
budding master bamboo fly-rod builder.
Huh?
"Bamboo is the pinnacle of the fly-fishing art," said
Oyster, letting the artist in him speak before giving
way to the philosopher. "It's a tangible symbol of the
whole philosophy of fly fishing... The equipment is part
of the experience."
His passion for the sport is clear. The romance of fly
fishing always has owned part of his heart, and the
creativity needed to construct a perfect bamboo rod
appeals to his artistic soul.
Still, Oyster never would have found his present nirvana
without the long, strange trip he took to get there.
Flying since the age of 15, he attended Georgia Tech and
majored in aerospace studies with every intention of
attending the U.S. Marine flight school in Pensacola,
Fla., and becoming a pilot. But after his junior year,
he decided against a military career and |
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or stalk, of bamboo generally will make two rods.
Working out of his basement, Oyster splits the cane
length-wise, then they are painstakingly planed down to
60-degree triangle strips that are tapered at the tip to
less than the width of a toothpick. Six pieces are glued
together to make up the rod blank. All the bamboo is
flame-tempered several times to drive out moisture and
to strengthened the material. The rods are dipped slowly
into varnish three times. The handle is made of
Portuguese cork, the reel seat of walnut wood.
It takes about 100 hours to produce one rod, which when
you consider that he charges $750 - $950 for one with an
extra tip - barely pays him minimum wage for his
efforts. Even at his best, he figures he can't make more
than 40 rods in a year.
"The average age [of people making bamboo rods] is about
60 years old," he says. "The way I look at it, I'm just
getting a 30-year head start. If there's one thing I
learned from racing, it's you can't beat a good head
start."
Oyster hopes to build his reputation of crafting quality
rods; his price probably will increase with demand.
Whatever happens, he will be content helping anglers
find the heart and soul of fly fishing, not just filling
a stringer.
"If it was only about catching fish," he says, "I'd
still be using that Zebco and can of worms." |
enrolled in the University of Florida, "because I wanted
to go someplace warm and sunny." It also is where he
began racing bicycles. Physical fitness was required in
ROTC, so he frequently worked out on a bicycle. His
fellow students encouraged him to start racing.
After he declined further ROTC scholarship money, he
transferred to the University of Georgia, where he
continued cycling, changed his major from English to art
and met his wife Shannen, who worked at the
alternative-music magazine located next to the bike shop
where he worked. The cycling thing took off. He won the
SEC cycling title, raced as a professional for two years
and competed in the 1996 Olympic trials road race; only
200 are invited, and Oyster finish in the top fifth.
"Cycling is physically and mentally demanding," said
Oyster, who also guides and teaches fly classes. "Fly
fishing became my escape because it was the direct
opposite of what I was doing.
His art background and fly-fishing passion collided when
he began making the fly-rods more than two years ago. A
self-described "realism artist," he best enjoys trying
to duplicate something in his art. And the fact that his
art is made to be used appeals to him that much more.
"If Picasso made fly rods, I don't think people could
fish with them," Oyster said, referring to the Spanish
painter and sculptor, "All my rods are made for fishing.
Functional art is what I'm trying to create here."
He also has created a smooth-casting rod, which takes
advantage of the bamboo's natural fibers to allow the
angler to make a more delicate presentation than the
faster-casting and lighter-weight graphite.
"Bamboo is for casting," he says. "Graphite is for
shooting line."
The Tonkin bamboo he used is found one place in the
world, a 30-square-mile hillside in southern China. A
12-foot culm, |
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