Chapter 346 - 222: Bamboo Strip Rope (Part 2)

Chapter 346: Chapter 222: Bamboo Strip Rope (Part 2)

"Don’t be fooled by how easy I make this look. This is actually pretty tricky. The real challenge is controlling the blade’s position."

"I’ve been demonstrating for a while, so you all should understand by now that you can split bamboo quite easily by striking it vertically, right?"

"But the blade is extremely sharp. While you’re striking downward, if you don’t control your force or the angle properly, you can easily slice into the other bamboo fibers. This results in a strip that isn’t straight, like these ones here."

He picked up four bamboo strips from the ground that seemed indistinguishable. Holding them together, he raised them up, and only then could the viewers see what he meant by a crooked split.

A strip that should have been straight had an unnatural curve in one spot, as if a piece was missing. The corresponding half of the split had a piece jutting out, making the pair look completely uneven.

"If you were using these to weave some kind of craft, you wouldn’t be able to use these crookedly split strips. Fortunately, I’m just making rope, so the shape requirements aren’t as strict."

By the time he finished splitting the entire stalk into strips, the water in the bamboo tube over the fire had nearly evaporated.

The once-clear stream water had turned a faint yellow, like diluted beer.

"These are the metallic impurities filtered out after the second boiling. Once I pour this out and collect and dry the remaining salt crystals, I’ll have relatively safe-to-use coarse salt."

Aside from explaining the steps the first time he’d extracted sea salt, he hadn’t gone over the process in the last few days.

Since he was extracting a large batch this time, he explained it again offhandedly. After all, new viewers were always joining the stream, and some of them wouldn’t have seen it before.

He scraped off all the salt crystals that had formed on the inside of the bamboo tube and spread them out on a banana leaf for the final drying step.

He refilled the bamboo tube over the fire, cut the freshly split bamboo strips to a suitable length, and placed them in the water to soak.

"Fresh bamboo strips are more pliable than the core, but they’re still not soft enough to be made into rope. You have to boil them for at least ten minutes. You also need to keep the strips moist throughout the weaving process. That’s how you significantly increase their elasticity and flexibility."

"Of course, there’s an even simpler method. After boiling them, you can use a rock or a wooden club to pound them all over. It’s the same principle as using a meat tenderizer on a cut of meat. It breaks down the integrity of the fibrous tissue, making the strips much softer."

By the time he returned to his shelter, he was carrying a thick bundle of bamboo strips.

These strips were a noticeably different color from the raw bamboo stalks piled on the ground nearby. They were a dark, murky green—a visual effect caused by chlorophyll loss from boiling.

’I’ve been busy for most of the day. I have salt now, but no food. I’ll worry about that later when I’ve gathered something. For now, the priority is to get this raft taken care of.’

Now that he had the prepared strips, weaving rope wasn’t difficult. It was just like braiding hair; you take three strips, intertwine them, and twist them into a single cord.

’The plan is to secure the raft by lashing the bamboo stalks together in pairs. That means the rope just needs to be long enough to wrap around two stalks a couple of times with a little left over... that should be about right, shouldn’t it?’

To be on the safe side, he wove one length of rope and wrapped it around the two bamboo stalks he was sitting on to measure it.

’A single strip is about 1.5 meters long. After braiding, the rope’s length is reduced a bit... but it seems... to be just the right length?’

He originally planned to use a figure-eight lashing to bind the two stalks firmly together. One wrap wouldn’t be enough; to be safe, he’d need at least three.

But after actually measuring, he found that the diameter of these bamboo stalks was only about a decimeter, perhaps even less.

That was the diameter, but the circumference was much larger.

Wrapping it three times around the circumference of two stalks used up the entire length of the rope.

And so began the long, tedious process of weaving.

Tying just the two ends of the raft wouldn’t work; he had to secure the middle as well.

’Two stalks need one rope, three stalks need two ropes, four stalks... Just how big of a raft am I making?’

’First, it has to be big enough for me to lie down on. Second, there has to be space to store my bamboo baskets. Let’s see... a width of two meters is probably necessary, right?’

He wasn’t planning on making the long, slender type of raft commonly seen in river towns, which are typically eight to more than ten meters long.

He wanted to build a rectangular or square raft, something that could float on the open sea.

’If a single stalk has a diameter of one decimeter, a two-meter width would require twenty stalks. That means nineteen lashings, times three points of contact... fifty-seven ropes?!’

Then he had to factor in the number of ropes needed to secure his shelter. The total would be in the triple digits, at least.

The thought of weaving such a massive number of bamboo ropes made him clutch his forehead with a pained, wry smile.

’No wonder there are fewer and fewer artisans these days. It took me this long just to process a single bamboo stalk. Weaving it into an actual craft would take way longer. You’re just trading time and skill for money, and you can’t even charge too much, or no one will buy it.’

With that thought, he was suddenly filled with respect for the local artisans who sold hand-woven crafts near tourist attractions.

Before trying it yourself, you’d just think they were expensive. Having now tried it with his own hands, he felt that charging ten or twenty bucks was actually a bargain.

After weaving all the bamboo strips he had prepared into ropes, he had only managed to make ten.

[Successfully crafted bamboo strip rope on the coast of Panama. Happiness +1]

’So I still have to split five more bamboo stalks just to get enough rope to build the raft?’

And that wasn’t even counting the twenty stalks for the raft itself, plus what he needed for daily use. The bamboo he had on hand probably wasn’t enough.

’Looks like I’ll have to go cut more bamboo tomorrow. The shelter needs to be secured soon, too. Building a raft is such a pain in the ass.’

Leaning back, he let himself fall onto the pile of bamboo stalks. He lay there for a moment, feeling how cool and springy they were. Surprisingly, it was quite comfortable.

’Oh, right. I need to build a bed today. I can’t sleep on the ground again tonight.’

A piece of furniture like a bed didn’t fall under the category of "tools," so there was no related information in his memory bank.

But that didn’t matter. It wasn’t a technical project—just build a frame against the wall and lay down a layer of bamboo planks.

He happened to have a pile of bamboo cores left over from splitting the stalks, which would be perfect for the bed platform.

’And that Green Iguana... how should I cook it...’

It was only about the size of his palm, with not much meat on it. It was mostly skeleton, looking quite similar to a chicken carcass.

Huh?

’Wait, a chicken carcass?’

His eyes lit up. He suddenly had an idea.

At the thought of a delicious meal, his legs stopped aching and his back felt fine. He shot to his feet and rushed into the shelter, rummaging through the bamboo basket he used for storing supplies to find the ingredients he needed.

’Wild ginger, culantro, and some green and red peppers... these three should be enough. For seasoning, I’ll use oyster sauce. Perfect!’

He got right to it. He chopped the gutted and cleaned Green Iguana into fingernail-sized pieces, roughly diced the green and red peppers, and minced the wild ginger. The prep work was done in minutes.

He built a new grill rack and grate out of fresh bamboo cores, tossing the old one into the fire for fuel.

He placed a large, flat stone on the grill to heat up. He then sliced a fatty piece of meat from the smoked venison belly, waiting until the stone began to smoke before placing the fat on it.

With a wonderful SIZZLE, the surface of the stone was quickly coated in glistening fat.

Hot stone, fresh oil—it was the perfect time to add the meat.

"TSSSSSS—"

Billows of white smoke rose into the air.

The chopped pieces of iguana meat began to turn white almost instantly, and a rich, meaty aroma filled the air.

He didn’t stir it right away, waiting for about half a minute before moving the pieces of meat.

The high heat had seared the meat, forming a crust where it touched the stone. It hardly stuck at all, with only a few tiny shreds of meat clinging to the surface.

That was unavoidable. After all, he didn’t have enough oil, and this wasn’t a proper wok. A few minor imperfections were to be expected.

Once the meat was browned all over, he removed it from the stone. He then tossed in the minced wild ginger and the peppers, stir-frying them. As he cooked, he added a little coconut milk to prevent sticking and to deglaze the stone, lifting all the flavorful browned bits from its surface.

As he was concentrating on his cooking, a familiar voice suddenly called out from not far behind him.

"It smells so good~"