Oyster Bamboo Fly Rods is honored to be featured in the OG of outdoor magazines, Field & Stream.
So... when I say it’s an honor to be featured in Field & Stream, I’m not indulging in a “humble brag” or overusing the word “honor.” I mean it emphatically.
More importantly, my 10-year-old self would be so impressed. Let me explain.
Growing up in the “70s” and “80s” , there was always a Field & Stream within reach—whether on the coffee table, in the car, or tucked into our boat on the lake. The covers were vibrant, telling a story without words, and at times were even cheeky, as if sharing an inside joke.
As a child, I would endlessly flip through its pages, envisioning the hidden places it described while plotting my escape into the woods.
Although I did not hunt, I treasured every moment spent outdoors in the woods behind my suburban Atlanta home, particularly in the “creek” that I later discovered was just a drainage ditch. My neighborhood also boasted a “lake” that turned out to be a retention pond, overflowing with brim that I would obsessively catch in the afternoons after getting off the school bus, alas trying to make them my “pets.”
Most weekends and summers, my family would escape to our lake house. It was such a welcome departure from our bougie suburb life that I would immediately slip into "redneck mode" upon arrival, walking barefoot along the gravel roads to “Granny’s Store” buying live crickets and worms for bass fishing, along with a handful of Slim Jims and a TAB for myself.
These “core” memories—thanks to my mom and dad—have quietly woven themselves into my heart, guiding me on a path that can only be understood through a profound, instinctual connection to nature.
Nature Took Its Course
But then, adolescence kicked in, and all of its subsequent complications, forcing me to let go of that connection with nature as a kind of rite of passage.
By the end of high school, I had practically abandoned it in favor of the freedom that came with owning a car, loud music (really loud music), and hanging out with friends in parking lots (I am not proud of this).
Nature took a backseat, as I chased a different kind of thrill. My copies of Field & Streams’ were gradually replaced with Spin, Harper’s Bazaar, Omni (don’t ask), Surf (no, I did not surf), and Seventeen Magazines.
Nature Finds A Way
Fast forward to college, where I still considered myself “outdoorsy” because I owned a pair of expensive boots and hiked the trails near UGA’s campus, mostly to feed the ducks at a nearby pond.
It was around this time that I met Bill, and you might say the doors to the next chapter of my life swung open, revealing what was to come.
Nature took its course once more as I fell in love with Bill.
When Bill’s bike sponsor (he was a professional road cyclist) sent me a Trek 970 mountain bike, I initially stared at it in confusion.
However, soon after I began to ride, I rediscovered the unapologetic joys of being in the woods, surrounded by trees, water, and creatures - and most importantly, the endless possibilities nature offers.
It’s hard to explain, yet it hints at infinity…limitlessness. That feeling the wild stirs within you is familiar, yet each adventure is always new.
Fast forward three decades to now—here I am…making a living and LIVING in the outdoor industry. Oyster Bamboo has been in business for 26 years, and we’ve personally celebrated 31 years of marriage.
Fly fishing takes you to the most beautiful places on earth. Even though I run the business, push papers, and stare at a computer designing our website and marketing, my life has been a privilege.
It’s not only been about the outdoors; it has also emerged so firmly rooted in nature that we raised our family in an industry that connects us all: nature.
I wish I could go back in time and tell my 10-year-old self that one day… WAY in the future… I will own and sustain a company cool enough to be featured in Field & Stream, the magazine that gave me glimpses into the “Soul of the Outdoors,” endless possibilities, and most importantly, my now.
So, when Field & Stream called, you can only imagine how exciting the prospect was for Oyster. I saw this as an additional way to cement Bill’s legacy as a bamboo fly rod maker and, more importantly, Oyster as a company.
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CLICK here or below to read Field & Stream article
Them (a lot of them): "Oyster is not a sustainable business; it will die with Bill."
Us: “Hold my beer. Watch this.”
For 11 years, it was just the two of us, a pile of debt, small children, and a ridiculous dream. The struggle was REAL.
After more than a decade, we hired our first full-time employee, Riley, followed by several others to focus primarily on the initial stage of the rod-making process, aptly named "day one guy." I also had a revolving door of assistants (think Murphy Brown), all while accumulating more debt and managing a growing family alongside that ridiculous dream.
Dang, those pesky dreams.
Over the years, against all odds, Oyster Bamboo Fly Rods has blossomed into a full-fledged business.
The Nature of Business
Us: "You can give me back my beer now."
In 2019, Oyster was awarded "Business of the Year" in retail for the state by the Georgia Department of Economic Development.
Do we still feel like imposters in the business world? Sometimes. (Read about our imposter syndrome HERE.)
Personally, I have survivor’s guilt. We are able to make a living at our craft while we know so MANY unbelievably talented people out there who are unable to pay their bills doing what they clearly were born to do.
We were told repeatedly that there was no way we could earn a living making bamboo fly rods.
Everyone in our orbit told us we could not do this, except my father.
Hey y'all (and you know who you are) ... I know you are presumptuous mean well, but we thrive (and by we, I mean Bill for the most part) on challenges since life is basically one long, drawn-out challenge, so why not embrace the suck struggle?!
Truth be told, there is no greater accelerator around here than being told, "you can't".
“I reject your reality and substitute my own.”
Here is an abbreviated list of “YOU CAN’TS” we have heard from “them” through the years:
❌ You can’t make a bamboo fly rod. (In “their” defense… it did take Bill a solid six ambitious months of doing his own excruciating research to cobble together his first bamboo fly rod.)
❌ You can’t get respect as a maker from the South. (Y'all are wrong.)
❌ You can’t make a world-class bamboo fly rod that anyone would be willing to buy. (Ahem)
❌ You can’t sell bamboo fly rods because you are too young. (We started in our 20s and that was bad "optics" for a bamboo fly rod maker).
❌ You can’t survive 9/11, making an antiquated product while the fly fishing industry waned in the "90s" with 2 babies, a pile of debt and no trust fund. (Whew, close one!)
❌ You can’t sell bamboo fly rods without a long white beard. (Time and life in general took care of this obstacle.)
❌ You can’t earn an actual living making bamboo fly rods. (This was a trickier bit, but we manage.)
❌ You can’t make your wife happy in the sporting trade. (I'm good, thanks...just buy me a shiny new shotgun every couple of years.)
❌ You can’t teach others to make bamboo fly rods. You will run “us” all out of business. (We will just have to agree to disagree. The more the merrier.)
❌ You can’t innovate while respecting tradition. (Ahem)
❌ You can’t afford to hire employees. (We can’t afford NOT to have employees.)
❌ You can’t make a modern saltwater bamboo fly rod. (Since 2008, our 9wt is one of our best-selling rods.)
❌ You can’t catch a 100+ pound tarpon on a bamboo fly rod. (Ahem)
❌ You can’t cast a bamboo fly rod any considerable distance. (Ahem)
❌ You definitely “can’t just learn to hand engrave”. (Ahem)
❌ You can’t survive the "great" recession. (We disagree, as does Emory University - Oyster is actually in their entrepreneur textbook spotlighting our resilience.)
❌ You can’t build a brick-and-mortar building solely dedicated to bamboo fly rods during said recession in a quaint Southern Appalachia tourist town without a rich uncle. (Hear me...this proved to be an excruciating challenge, yet we did it. In fact, in hindsight, it was a formidable turning point for Oyster. It was our American Dream coming to life.)
❌ You can’t sustain this “business model”. (What business model? Our intentions are to sell world-class, hand-engraved bamboo fly rods and teach bamboo fly making classes… If that’s a business model… So be it).
❌ You can’t survive COVID as a small business reliant on in-person relationships. (Pivot. Adapt. Thrive.)
❌ You can’t get anyone to believe in you.
We can.
We will.
Oyster is a business and an ecosystem of expertise and grit.
This recent feature in Field & Stream inadvertently forced us to hold up a mirror and reflect on who we truly are as a company.
When the photographer, Paul King, came to Oyster, he spent several thoughtful days with us, absorbing the culture and the essence of our community so he could capture meaningful images.
As the days unfolded, watching Oyster through Paul’s “lens”, so to speak, I was overwhelmed with guttural pride.
Because we are constantly a company “in motion” always looking for ways to push forward, it is easy to take the now for granted.
Pause.
Our crew at Oyster grinds in such unison that it could easily be mistaken for effortlessness. However, effort is at the nucleus of our process.
Oyster is a collective of immense talent.
So, what's with the covers? A fun throwback!
(the covers of the F&S for the month and year they were born!)
Riley G.- Shop Manager
Paxton - Hand Engraver
Jacob - Rod Maker
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LAST BUT NOT LEAST…if you know Oyster…you know Kassie. (Round of applause, please!). Kassie is truly Oyster’s “invisible force”.
Kassie - Operations Manager
Our clientele at Oyster are some of the most thoughtful people on Earth, and I consider it a privilege to interact with them. So, when it was time to allow someone else to take on this role, it was a painfully difficult decision for me.
.
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Most importantly, I needed someone who understands the delicate balancing act of being both a mother and a provider. It’s a freak show circus like no other, often requiring a nuanced understanding of priorities and sheer grit.
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Editor’s Note: October 2024 marks Kassie’s official 10-year anniversary with Oyster. How do I know this?
She told me.
So, I made her a cake.
Lastly...
Print is very much ALIVE.
Print is not dead. It never was. Print continues to be at the core of expression for every living generation.
Is it cool? I don’t know. Maybe we don’t care about being cool any longer. Perhaps that’s the point.
As our lives increasingly become blips on the radar, print has stood its ground and persevered as a medium of choice for many… it has a proven shelf life on our coffee tables, nightstands and in our hearts.
Long. Live. Print.
Nature calls.
-SLO