A minor event

It is surprising how a random convergence at a place and time can affect future events out of all proportion to that moment. The evening of June 2, I headed for the East Branch of the Delaware intending to fish at the Centerville access.

At that moment, Dave Brandt was driving down from Oneonta to fish the East Branch. He ended up at the Centerville access. Dave found a car parked there with Texas plates. Since tall scrub obscured his view of the river, he called out, “Is that you down there, Clem?” Hearing it was Dave, I invited him to join me in eating dinner. Once we finished eating, it was time to go trout hunting.

Dave worked over an impressive rising fish for some time with no success. As he was changing flies, he suggested I try for this fish. I raised the fish but failed to hook it. Dave told me to try again. I refused, feeling this battle should be his to win or lose. As darkness approached, Dave’s fish raised once more. This time Dave’s rod was whipped into a tight arc. Moments later he had trouble getting both hands around this heavy fish.

As we were removing our waders, Dave reminded me that Tony Bonavist and I had not fished together for some years. I had to admit this was true. Dave grunted and firmly suggested that he should take charge of arranging a fishing date for the two of us. I smiled and told him, “Go do it.”

Shortly the phone rang. It was Dave inviting Barb and me to a meeting of what he referred to as “The Bamboo Gang.” Tony would be there. That seemingly trivial meeting at the Centerville access had opened a door to meet a new and intriguing circle of friends. This would eventually lead to my being able to meet such rod building greats as Bob Taylor, Mike Canazon and the illustrious Walt Carpenter at the Benbyre Farm’s Split Cane & Double Gun Party, a yearly event put on by Jamie Bendelious.

I owe a sweeping tip of the cowboy hat to Dave Brandt, who acts as both social director and purveyor of exotic brews for the Bamboo Gang. At these meetings it is both a pleasure and instructive to watch when Dave Brandt or Tony Bonavist picks up a rod and begins to cast. Both of them can make a bamboo fly rod dance and a fly line sing. Compared to these fellows, despite 60 years of practicing, Barb and I barely qualify as fly fishers.

In this group there are two former corporate officers, a retired banker, a retired fisheries biologist, two fly fishing authors, one of whom still works as a Department of Environmental Conservation employee, a female realtor when she is not fishing, a renowned builder of bamboo fly rods, an aptly named fly fisher (Rod), who at times plays the role of barrister and a nationally acclaimed fly tier. Add to this mix a retired cleaner of office buildings and his steady date of 61 years and you have quite a disparate group. They are linked together by their love of bamboo fly rods and fly fishing.

All of these folks, except for Barb and me, are steeped in the history of and the various qualities that make an exceptional bamboo fly rod. Frequently, their opinions lack unanimity. That fact made for some very interesting meetings. Barb and I regard the weekly meetings of the Bamboo Gang as being the very best part of this past season. Keep the soup hot, guys, we hope to be there for the April 29 meeting.