The Nakaya Portable Cigar Spiketails (Dragonfly): A Grail Pen

(Susan M. Pigott is a fountain pen collector, pen and paperholic, photographer, and professor. You can find more from Susan on her blog Scribalishess.)

My favorite creature on earth, next to kitties, is the dragonfly. Every summer I go on yard safaris, taking photographs of the insects that inhabit our yard. When I find a dragonfly, I feel like I have discovered gold. Nothing makes me happier than capturing dragonflies on camera.

Dragonflies are sky lions–carnivores who zip through the air like gravity doesn't matter. Not only are they incredibly beautiful, but they rid the air of pests.

I adore dragonflies, so when I saw that Classic Fountain Pens (nibs.com) had a Nakaya Portable Cigar Spiketails (Dragonfly) fountain pen in the preowned section, I went nuts. At $1,300 (used–yes, used), this was not a pen I could just buy outright. I knew I would have to part with some amazing pens in order to afford the Nakaya.

I chose to sacrifice two pens to buy my grail: an uninked Montblanc Oscar Wilde and an Omas Paragon Arco (old style). Parting with the Oscar Wilde wasn't too hard since I had never inked the pen and I hadn't bonded with it.

The Paragon was more difficult. It's such a unique and beautiful pen and I loved the nib. But, at the time, Omas hadn't gone out of business and I wasn't too attached to the Arco. Silly me.

So, I posted both pens on the classifieds at Fountain Pen Network and Fountain Pen Geeks and crossed my fingers. It took about a month to sell both pens (and I had to do several price reductions), but eventually I had enough money to buy the Dragonfly with a nib grind to boot.

What makes the Nakaya Spiketails so unique is that it is a hand-painted acrylic fountain pen. Unlike most Nakaya pens which are completely opaque, the Dragonfly is partially transparent with raised painted designs covered in semi-transparent red (Shu) Urushi lacquer.

The dragonfly wings and some of the swamp grasses are coated in gold dust and semi-transparent Urushi. In sunlight, the effect is absolutely magical.

The dragonfly design is genius, with the dragonfly's body curving gracefully along the pen and its wings encircling the cap.

The dragonfly is amazingly detailed.

The bottom of the pen portrays the swamp grasses that are the habitat of the dragonfly.

My pen came with a BB single-tone 14K nib. I had nibs.com grind the nib down to a medium italic. It writes beautifully, though I will say this isn't the smoothest nib I've received from them. I could send it back for more work, but I'm afraid this is one pen I just can't let out of my sight.

I realize some people don't understand grail pens, especially ones this expensive. "Why would you ever spend that much money on a pen?" I can't offer a reasonable explanation, because grail pens aren't reasonable. A grail pen is a pen you desire because it means something special to you. You can't justify this with logic. Ultimately, the reason one buys any grail pen is intensely personal. For me, a pen representing one of my favorite creatures on earth is meaningful to me. Also, this isn't just a pen I write with, it is a piece of exquisite art.

I Let My Wife Pick My Grail Pen

(This is a guest post by Jon Bemis. You can find Jon on Twitter @jtower42.)

I haven’t been a fountain pen user for very long, but the good fortune of having a little bit of disposable income to put towards my pen addiction has allowed me to explore a broad range of pens at a number of price points. When I first decided I wanted a fountain pen, I had the same reaction most people do; “I can’t believe I’m seriously thinking about dropping nearly thirty dollars on a Lamy Safari!” But I fairly quickly passed through several price barriers – fifty dollars (Monteverde Intima), a hundred dollars (Pelikan M205), one hundred and fifty dollars (Pilot Custom 74). My sensitivity to price was decreasing at a rate proportional to the enjoyment I was getting out of my new hobby.

Somewhere around two hundred dollars, however, I got twitchy. It happened with my first two hundred dollar pen (Edison Pearlette) and remains a sticky price point for me. There is an arbitrary line in my brain, a little voice that says, “Two hundred dollars is A LOT of money.”

Then I heard about Nakaya.

The priciest pens I had seen up to that point – the Montblancs, Viscontis, Auroras – they held little appeal. At least not at their (in my opinion) inflated price points. But when I saw a Nakaya for the first time on The Pen Addict, that voice in my head, my two-hundred dollar conscience? He didn’t have a chance. They were SO BEAUTIFUL. And everyone in the pen community who owned one RAVED about their Nakaya.

So in early fall, when my wife Dana started asking me what I wanted for Christmas, I blurted out “A Nakaya.” She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and asked, “Is that a pen?”

I tried to explain how it wasn’t just a pen, it was a capital-P PEN. Number one on a short list of grail pens. I could tell I wasn’t getting through. I talked about the art of urushi lacquer and its roots in ancient Japan. I tried to explain how a perfectly balanced pen becomes an extension of one’s hand. I attempted to describe what it was to write with a perfect nib, strong but soft, smooth but responsive.

Her expression was a mixture of bemusement and befuddlement. She clearly thought I was in the grip of some terrible fever, and I knew most of my homily was lost on her. She also saw my eyes were shining and my excitement was real. One of Dana’s many qualities is her willingness to indulge some of my obsessions.

Then she asked how much a Nakaya would cost. I told her.

After a double-take and a longish pause, she asked where she could even find such a thing. I directed her to John Mottishaw and nibs.com. She pulled up the website on her tablet and browsed for a few minutes. Then she said the words I had been dreading second-most of all. (Obviously, the words I had been dreading first-most of all were, “That’s ridiculous. I’m not getting you that.”)

What she said instead was, “There are way too many choices here. Just tell me which one you want.” Some of you, at this point, will be wondering what the problem is. I’d been given carte blanche to select my grail pen. I had full freedom to choose exactly what I wanted! The proverbial green light! Why was this a problem?

The problem was I didn’t know exactly what I wanted. And what was more, I didn’t WANT to choose. While I was researching Nakayas, I tortured myself trying to decide which one would be “perfect.” I read reviews, asked Nakaya owners for opinions, and lamented the fact that I couldn’t get to Los Angeles to the pen show to take a test drive. I stayed in this analysis paralysis for months. So the idea of picking one, just one, to the exclusion of all others, was daunting.

So I took the middle road and gave her some parameters. I showed her the models I was interested in; the Portable Writer, the Dorsal Fin, and the Piccolo. I told her my favorite colors; brown-green, blue-green, red over black, and black over red. I did specify that I wanted a medium nib. So I had given her a dozen options. Three models, four colors, zero idea of which one she would choose.

I was never nervous. I never imagined, even for a moment, that I wouldn’t be happy with the pen she picked. Despite not knowing, I knew.

First, I knew that one of the best things about fountain pens and fine writing as a hobby is the infinite number of new experiences available to the open-minded. There are innumerable combinations of pen, ink, paper and nib, and no one can predict which will delight a given individual. So I allowed myself to be open to the idea that no matter which Nakaya I got, it would be a great experience.

Second, and more importantly, by putting the final decision about my grail pen in the hands of my wife, I would be getting a gift given with thought and given in love. I was trusting her with a (relatively speaking) important decision about a thing that was squarely in my world, not hers. I believed and trusted that she knew me, and by accepting the responsibility of choosing, she conveyed to me that she cherished that trust.

At that moment, sitting together in our living room in our favorite chairs, comfortable and happy together, I became certain that there could be no wrong choice. She couldn’t possibly choose the wrong pen, because any pen she chose would always be the pen she chose for me. I knew I would love the pen because I love her, and because she loves me. And when I unwrapped my new Dorsal Fin in Aka-Tamenuri on Christmas morning, I loved it.

We pen people are a little weird, a little off center. We can get a little crazy about pursuing THAT PEN. Letting someone else choose that precious possession may not be something everyone can do. It requires a willingness to let go that certainly didn’t come easy for me. For some, it may be impossible. For me, giving up that little bit of control made the Nakaya immediately and forever my favorite pen. Not just because it’s awesome (it is) but because it was always remind me of that Christmas, and of my wife and best friend who got it for me.

Nakaya Portable Cigar Ao-tamenuri Fountain Pen Review

No typed review will ever do a Nakaya justice. Neither will pictures, or handwriting samples. I've sweated over this review because, while I have reviewed a Nakaya before, this was my first Nakaya purchase. My very own. And it was worth every penny.

Let's get the specs out of the way right up front. I made my purchase from Nibs.com, choosing the Portable (barrel style) Cigar (clipless) Ao-tamenuri (finish color) as seen here. The base price is $650, with a $50 add-on for a rhodium plated nib, and another $55 to have the fine nib ground into a cursive italic. So I am $755.00 into this pen. Whoa.

If you have heard me on the podcast talk about this pen, you will know that price wasn't my main consideration in making this purchase. Yes, it is the most I have ever spent on a pen, but I had been saving for months and months before pulling the trigger. I was more concerned about being comfortable using the pen outside the comforts of my desk at home where I am less likely to break or lose it. If I am paying this much for a pen I sure as heck want to use it.

The usage part was a mental hurdle I had to overcome. The more familiar I had become with fountain pens over the years, including both usage and maintenance, the more I felt comfortable with the idea of owning a Nakaya. I was convinced I was fine with tossing it in my pocket or bag (in it's kimono, of course) and hitting the road. I'm happy to say I've found that I am willing to take my Nakaya and use it anywhere and everywhere.

A perfect example is the Fodderstack Fall Festival we held at Nock last year. We planned on doing some pen testing and a pen swap, and I made sure to bring my Portable to the event. Why? Because I love this pen so much I want to share it and let others be able to try something out they wouldn't normally be able to. It was a hit for sure, but even as I was passing it around there were people that were scared to take it from me! I'm persuasive though, and I enjoyed being able to get this pen in as many hands as possible.

I tell this story because there is an aura around Nakaya pens that they are museum pieces made to be coddled. There's nothing wrong with that, and yes, if for some reason I ever have one of the several thousand dollar models in my possession I may feel the same way. But this pen, as with any pen, is made to be used. It's a refrain you've heard a thousand times, but it's the truth.

And I use the heck out of this pen. It's probably my most used pen since I purchased it last spring (I should probably track these things), keeping it inked at all times aside from a day or two of downtime between cleanings.

The Portable barrel size fits my hand perfectly. When I first got it, it felt shockingly light, and at 22.2 grams it is, but after constant use it feels normal if that makes sense. I don't notice the weight at all. That is a big feature because my hand never gets tired when writing. My grip pressure remains light, and my strokes flow like a brush.

As I talked about in the written review below, Nakaya nibs are unlike any other nib I have used. They are smooth, with a hint of feedback. It's almost a hum-like feeling when you are writing. You hear it more than you feel it. If you have ever used a Platinum nib they are somewhat similar, which is expected as the companies are related. The cursive italic grind I had put on it is very fine with just a hint of line variation, which is perfect for my standard writing style.

I feel like I could go on and on about this pen, but at the same time I feel like I haven't said anything in this review. Nakaya's aren't about numbers or specs. Nakaya's are about feel, and about storytelling. They are different in a way that words cannot do justice. I hope I did my Nakaya Portable justice in this post, and I hope everyone can at least take one for a test drive someday. If you ever meet me in person I'll be happy to let you take mine for a spin.