Introduction
Blog Post #1:
This is a test to see if posting regularly is of any benefit to the world, the readers of this Blog and to me. Since this Blog will be published at www.bigbamboorodco.com it will primarily be about fly fishing, i.e. fly rods, flies, fish, places to fish, and the people who are involved in all of these things. To get things started let me introduce myself:
My name is Ron Scott. I was born and raised in Central Massachusetts and besides living in Upstate New York for a few years during high school, I have lived here my entire life. When I was 23 I obtained my securities license and began a career in financial planning. Today I am a partner with my two daughters in our own investment management company called Scott Advisory Group. If you would like to know more about our company you are welcome to visit our website at: https://scottadvisorygroup.com/
As you can see, I am mostly a "silent partner," in the business. Most of my time is now spent on the supervisory side of the operation. As a series 24 "OSJ" with SagePoint Financial I make sure all of the registered representatives under me conduct themselves with the highest ethical standard. I believe that I would never had lasted the 40 some odd years that I have been in the business if I hadn't always put my client's best interest above my own. Philosophically I believe that our #1 job is to help people -- make their financial situation better. That job is very satisfying and fun!
After work and family, my number one passion is spending time in the outdoors, whether is be hiking, skiing, flying (I am a licensed pilot), fishing, hunting, or photography. I love to be outdoors. I've also always enjoyed history ... living history. In other words actually experiencing what it was like to be there doing whatever it is I am studying. In order to restore my first house, a 200 year old cape, I learned blacksmithing and advanced woodworking (I already had already developed carpentry skills from working with my grandfather college). As part of the restoration project (that lasted 15 years) I built a forge and made a lot of the door and cabinet hardware for the house. After completing a stand alone workshop I carved decoys and made my own kentucky long rifle from scratch. Then to make the experience even more realistic I attended a few fur trading era rendezvous in period correct clothing and shelter.
Combining my interest in fly fishing, woodworking, metal working and living history I decided to take up the art of making split bamboo fly rods. The learning process took 50 years! I am sure there are people who take up the craft and make a bamboo fly rod in a very short span of time, but my learning started when I was so young that I didn't have any idea that I was going to end up here. My father was a carpenter, locally "famous" wildlife photographer (he actually sold footage to National Geographic), and all around outdoorsman, so I grew up in the outdoors. He used to drag me on a sled in the Quabbin Reservoir wildlife refuge when I was too small to walk in the snow and keep up. By the time I was 10 years old I had spent many hours in the woods with map, compass, and camera. My earliest memory is of the time my father left me by a beaver pond with a small 35 millimeter camera. I shot a whole roll of Kodachrome and was absolutely certain I had gotten some prize winning pictures of swimming beavers. When the film came back from being process at Kodak, all that you could see of the beavers was little dark specks out in the pond. Another time I dropped that same camera out of a blind while filming nesting great blue herons and started to cry!
Since my father was also an avid Atlantic salmon fisherman he took me along on his trips to the Dennys River in Maine. When I was old enough to cast a fly rod he bought me a 8' Fenwick fiberglass fly rod and taught me to cast. I remember the first Atlantic salmon I caught like it was yesterday. We had canoed down the Dennys River and fished all of the known pools. When we got down the Meathunters he anchored the canoe and directed me to cast across to the alder bushes. I had on a big Sam Ward Special and I could see it swinging under the surface as the salmon rose from the dark and engulfed it. The fight was on! I can only imagine how excited my father was. To me it was no big deal. I was a smart ass teenager who thought he was Lee Wulff. Despite having hooled and played many hundreds of Atlantic salmon since that one, I have never seen one hooked the way he was. The hook went through his tongue and I think it was choking him because he didn't fight that hard. My father was in a panic, trying to tell me what to do while managing the net and anchor rope. Somehow he managed to net the fish and bring it into the canoe. He was obviously very proud and excited and I, unfortunately, was a little disappointed. No great screaming runs, no high leapes, no drama! We killed that fish and celebrated up on the bank with a Swisher Sweet (my first ever cigar).
After fishing Maine for many years we bought a camp in New Brunswick in 1987. The Dennys River had for all practical purposes become devoid of salmon -- we needed to find better fishing and did. The camp was and still is made up of three old hand hewn log cabins. There is the "Bunkhouse," the "Cook Shack," and the "Honeymoon Cabin," along with a requisite outhouse. We've fixed up, added on, and improved the camps through the years but have consciously left it like we found it -- off grid and rustic. All we have done is made it more comfortable by fixing up the cook shack, chinking the bunkhouse, and adding two new screen porches to have a better view of the river. Otherwise we have simply enjoyed the place -- the sound of the river, the sight of wildlife, and the smell of pines. And of course the salmon fishing ... More on that in my second post. Time to run now ... (I'm going to publish this without final editing -- this is just a test)
wow
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