To build a great bamboo fly rod you have to be part artist and part engineer. Some would say being a bit crazy helps too.

Bob Milward, one of a handful of professional cane rod builders in Canada, is qualified on the first two counts, at least.

He was trained as an architect, and that helps when he's measuring splits of bamboo down to 35/1000th of an inch, or when he's plotting the relationship between taper and power on a graph.

His love of music (he plays a wild campfire banjo) has kept the creative side tuned, which is as important as any mechanical skill when it comes to shaping a piece of cane.

As to being crazy, well maybe the 20 years he spent climbing some of the biggest and most dangerous mountains in the world would be proof enough of that. Or the fact that as he approached 50, he decided to put aside his career in architecture and try to make a living from an ancient and all but forgotten craft.

He's absolutely certain he's going to succeed. Five years ago he began building cane fly rods professionally, and now it occupies about 1/3 of his time. He's doing consulting, designing machines and buildings, to pay the bills, and thinks he's found a happy balance.

"You know the hourly rate I get on a consulting job could just never be matched in rod builiding - I could never charge that much because the rods would just be out of reach. This way I get to build lots of rods, and still make a reasonable living."

His clients are all referred by word of mouth. Some are hardcore cane fanatics. Others are new recruits who were happy fishing with graphite until they met someone on the water with a stunningly crafted bamboo fishing rod. No matter what you fish with, once you've held a Milward cane and have felt the way it springs to life when it's lifted - you've gotta have one.

Mr. Milward says more people would be fishing with bamboo today if they had a chance to try out a properly made cane rod.

``I'm surprised at the number of people who don't know about how wonderful bamboo is to fish with,'' he says, standing in his workshop, surrounded by stacks of freshly cut bamboo splits.

``It's far more sensitive than graphite. You can feel your fly. And when it comes to fighting a fish - well, those graphite rods are like playing a trout on the end of a poker!''

Mr. Milward's last big architecture job, before he made the jump to rod building, was designing luxury apartments that sold for $1.4 million a pop. As he tells me this story he's hold a fly rod he built, a a delicate three weight that took him 40 hours of sweat and blood -which he'll sell for about $800.

He knows he'll never get rich selling cane rods.

He doesn't care. He loves the job.

``Working with cane is wonderful,'' he says.

But it's not easy. Cane is a tough natural material that is as sharp as steel when it's been tempered and lathed into the perfect triangles that are nestled together to form a rod.

``To build bamboo is to bleed,'' says Milward, holding up his hands, which have been left scarred from the cutting lashes of cane. Make a slip when you are working this stuff with your bare hands, and the blood flows. There's no other way to do it right. Put on gloves and you lose the tactile signals that any artist depends on.

He started working with bamboo more than a dozen years ago. He loved fishing with cane and wanted to see if he could build one himself. He thought his first effort was brilliant - but now looks on it as embarrassingly crude. Today the first Milward has been cut down to make a net handle.

A few generations ago, bamboo was the rod of choice for fly fishers. But then glass rods came along. They were cheap, resilient and they cast farther. Today graphite is the rage because it's incredibly light and is loaded with power. Every season brings a new standard of excellence - which is usually measured by two things: lightness and casting distance.

Distance casting has become equated with fishing skill. The farther you toss a fly, many believe, the better are your chances of taking fish.

But Mr. Milward, who this fall will self-publish his first book, Advanced Bamboo Rod Building, thinks that's a lot of bunk. Most fish aren't caught at the end of 90-foot casts, he says, but are taken close in.

A rod that casts with delicacy and accuracy is more important than one that powers your line way out there, but is stiff and lifeless.

And bamboo can push a line pretty far too, he says, noting that studies he's done on the mechanics of bamboo is allowing him to build lighter, stronger rods.

He takes half a dozen rods out and lays them on a neighbor's front lawn. One by one he picks them up and casts, the line curling out across the North Vancouver street behind him. Luckily, the traffic is light and we don't foul hook any passing cars.

``That hedge is 60 feet away,'' he says, as the line soars over his head, and drops on the grass. The end of the leader is lying across the hedge, where, we can both imagine, a big trout is sulkily taking down Mayflies.

He moves down from a six weight to a three weight - and does the same thing. The hedge trout would be toast by now.

Taking a rod I work out the line. Bamboo calls for a slower casting rhythm. You feel the line more; the backbone punch that comes from graphite isn't there, but if you and the line and rod work together, you can still throw quite a distance.

In Mr. Milward's practiced hands, cane is magic. He can lay his fly on a leaf 40 feet away. Or toss a tight curl far back under some overhanging branches.

Each rod, he says, feels different. Each has a life of its own. He should know, he put it there.

(Mr. Milward builds custom rods that come in an array of tapers. Prices range from about $795 to $2,300. He can be reached in Vancouver at: 604- 985-0860 or by writing: Bob Milward, 1851 Rufus Drive, North Vancouver, CANADA, V7J 3L8.)