Every man needs a place where he can go to "get away from it all" once in awhile, a cave to hide away in; a place for male bonding, making silica dust and washing it down.  Whether it's a room in the basement, or, if a guy's lucky enough, a workshop out behind the house.  A place, other than the local pub, where your wife will know where to find you......yet leave you alone to "create", knowing that you really can't get into any serious trouble "out there".  This is the story of my "cave" and how it came to be.

  I started knapping almost ten years ago now.  Back then it was an outside only activity, done on occasion with a hammerstone and some chunks of Onondaga I picked up walking local fields.....oh yeah, and band-aids too of course.  I was curious and interested, but the obsession hadn't quite kicked in yet.  After some initial struggles (who didn't?) I found a copy of D.C.'s "The Art of Flintknapping" at the Buffalo Museum of Science.  I was astounded.....I couldn't believe that such a thing existed.  Boy, I thought, I've got it made now!  After reading and struggling some more, I came to the conclusion that I just had to have somebody show me how to do this.  At about this time I was introduced to Jack Holland, a gentleman well known in both knapping and archaeology circles......"Mr. Lithics".  I pretty much just tormented Jack until he was kind enough to invite me to his home to give me a knapping lesson.....I guess it was either that or learn how to deal with a stalker!  Jack showed me the basics, saw that I was sincere in my desire to learn, and decided that he should get me on down to meet Ken Wallace, a knapping legend here in the Northeast.

  To make a long story, well, a little shorter.  Ken and I became fast friends and I was put firmly on the road to learning this "lost art".  Having a good teacher accelerated my abilities light years beyond where I would have been had I continued to struggle on my own.  I still consider myself extremely fortunate to have met such a skilled knapper, and one who so easily and generously gave of his knowledge, so early in my knapping career.

  The first time I visited Ken with Jack, as I sat in his home marvelling at the case after case of work that he put before me, I wondered where all of this magic happened.  My question was answered as we moved outside to "the shop".  Ken's shop was small, with a low, sloped ceiling and a wooden floor.....I could see small pieces of debitage imbedded in it and caught between the boards.  There were things to see in every nook; arrows, darts, antlers, tanned hides, trade beads......I was overwhelmed!!  The day was somewhat of a blur; it would have seemed almost dreamlike looking back at it later that night, had it not been for the paper thin Snyders point that I clutched in my hand....one of Ken's signature pieces and a gift to remember the day by.