UPDATE: Contest Winner(s) at the end of the post
What does tenkara mean to you? (Contest)
There are a couple of tenkara contests going around at the moment, like the one at Karel's tenkaraonthefly.net, where you can tell your tenkara story for a free line holder.
To celebrate the enthusiasm of tenkara anglers, and the introduction of our new fly boxes, we decided to get in the contest bandwagon and give away one of our awesome new boxes.
The word tenkara is often taken to mean "from heaven" ("ten" = "heaven" and "kara"="from". But because of the way it is written no one knows for sure what the original meaning was. It is relatively open to interpretation. If you were to give the term tenkara a meaning, what would it be? Please post your response here in this format: 2-4 words for the meaning, with a 3-4 sentences on why you decided on that meaning.
My wife will pick the winning response based on: its philosophical meaning, likelihood that it could actually be used in relation to fishing, the logic expressed to indicate that likelihood or personal reason. She will not be given the name of the author of the response.
Contest ends on March 15th at midnight.
CONTEST WINNER There were a LOT of great responses, and it was very difficult to pick them, but my wife had to pick one winner for the bamboo box. Margaret ended up also assigning a second winner for the thoughtfulness in the response, so Judy Cole will be receiving a copy of The Fly Fish Journal for the poem she wrote.
DAVID:
Synergy of simplicity and skill Tenkara fishing simplifies the equipment needed to the basics. With skill the more you know the less you need. Synergy exist when two or more agents interact to produce a combined effect that is greater than the sum of the their separate effects. Simplified gear combined with skill creates a fishing experience that is delightfully satisfying or even heavenly that is greater than expected once experienced.
Judy Cole:
Tenkara – Joy in the High Country Up the dappled trail Through pine-scented air On any day of our summery season With packs so light, they can hardly be felt A mere trifle on our backs On still lively legs, we crest the moraine, And view a sudden meadow Vivid with riotous, lush colors of flower and grass that Snatch our breath We celebrate in the dancing, lambent light sparkling off the meandering stream Quicker than a marmot can steal your pack off a summy rock, The rod is out and the fly on the water, my husband already rejoicing, “First one of the day!”