During my first voyage, I was staying in a beach hut on a remote stretch of Indian coast called Paradise Beach. There was no running water, electricity was by appointment only, internet access was two towns over, and a hot shower was as attainable as a round trip ticket to the moon. In spite of this lack of creature comforts, Paradise Beach remained aptly named. To get to my lodgings, you had to climb up a stone escarpment and jump over a narrow ravine. The ravine was probably about five feet deep and was mostly used to store firewood. One day, while stepping over this tiny chasm , I looked down, There among the rest of the tinder was a stout branch that had been wrapped with a vine into an attractive spiraling shape. I reached down and took it for my walking stick for that morning's hike. It had a satisfying heft and sturdiness. If it had one flaw as a walking stick, it was slightly too short for me. I took it with me for that morning's excursion and the next. When I finally left Paradise beach, the stick was in my hand. It was my constant companion in India aside from a period of a few days when I left it leaning against the wall of a guest house and forgot about it. When it came time to board my flight home, the stick had found it's way into my luggage. Since then it has been my constant companion on countless hikes and is usually found leaning near the front door of my current residence.
The notion of giving it a head to personalize it and bridge the four inch deficit between it's actual and ideal length has been there since almost the beginning. I considered a few different motifs for the project. The obvious choice for me would have been a crow or a raven, bu this never felt right somehow. I briefly considered other animals like monkeys, coyotes chameleons and even, as was suggested by countless Indian guys, a snake. In the end the choice was obvious.
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| Illustration from Birds of Southern India by Richard Grimmett and Tim Inskipp |
Back on Paradise Beach, there was a smallish bird that would perch on the spring water pipe nearly every morning. It was an attractive chocolate and azure color with a pure white bib splashed across it's breast. It's beak was crimson and the long familiar slightly tip-tilted kayak shape characteristic to kingfishers. My guidebook told me that this was a white throated kingfisher, one of the more conspicuous of the Asian kingfishers. Throughout my journey, I could reliably spot one wherever I went. It almost seemed as though every time I arrived in a new place, there was a kingfisher to greet me. Was there any special bond between myself and this species? Probably not. The white throated kingfisher is one of the most widespread and common birds of South Asia. I might have had the same relationship with at least twenty other species during that trip. To claim any sort of special totemic relationship would be roughly equivalent to saying that about the blue jays that come to my neighbor's feeder. I just like the notion that it was my friend and traveling companion. When I went to the Himalayas, beyond it's native range, I missed seeing it.
This project sat on the back shelf of my mind for a long time. It was one of those pieces that I would eventually finish when I could find the time or motivation. There were a few false starts over the years. When I decided that it was time to travel again, I selected a new block of turning stock maple with an interesting section of dark grain. I thought it would be an attractive match to the stick's wood, which I presume to be banyan but i'm really not sure. I blocked out the initial carving an slowly proceeded, picking the piece up between projects. progress was slow and slightly unmotivated over the course of months. It felt more like an assignment than one of the rare pieces I made for myself. One day when I had decide to dedicate myself to this project, I went into my studio. Instead of picking up my partially realized carving, I reached for one of my rare chunks of black walnut and started anew. Black walnut is a highly sought after lumber for woodworkers and craftspeople because of its gorgeous grain and rich dark color. It felt a little self indulgent taking a block just for myself. The second the steel hit the surface it was obvious I had made the right decision. The whole carving was realized in about three studio days and was a lot of fun to work on. I finished it with hand rubbed linseed oil to accent the natural grain. I am pleased with the results. Now I will always have a kingfisher with me when I travel.
During my first voyage, I was staying in a beach hut on a remote stretch of Indian coast called Paradise Beach. There was no running water, electricity was by appointment only, internet access was two towns over, and a hot shower was as attainable as a round trip ticket to the moon. In spite of this lack of creature comforts, Paradise Beach remained aptly named. To get to my lodgings, you had to climb up a stone escarpment and jump over a narrow ravine. The ravine was probably about five feet deep and was mostly used to store firewood. One day, while stepping over this tiny chasm , I looked down, There among the rest of the tinder was a stout branch that had been wrapped with a vine into an attractive spiraling shape. I reached down and took it for my walking stick for that morning's hike. It had a satisfying heft and sturdiness. If it had one flaw as a walking stick, it was slightly too short for me. I took it with me for that morning's excursion and the next. When I finally left Paradise beach, the stick was in my hand. It was my constant companion in India aside from a period of a few days when I left it leaning against the wall of a guest house and forgot about it. When it came time to board my flight home, the stick had found it's way into my luggage. Since then it has been my constant companion on countless hikes and is usually found leaning near the front door of my current residence.
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