Etching the Future, One PCB at a Time

The other day, I rescued a stack of old copper laminate FR4 boards from the trash. To most people, it was just junk, but to me, it was a chance to dive into something I’d been wanting to learn for ages: DIY PCB etching.

I’ve always been the type to tinker, to see where I can take an idea, and lately, that’s meant leveling up my toolkit. I’ve been getting comfortable with Fusion 360 for 3D design, and now I’m exploring KiCad to turn my circuit sketches into proper PCBs. But designing is only part of the process. The real magic happens when you take an idea off the screen and hold it in your hands—when it’s not just hypothetical anymore.

That’s where sodium persulfate comes in. It comes in powder form, and you are expected to dilute it to the correct concentration in 60 degree water, before pouring it in a tub and bathing the PCBs in it to etch them. It's got some quirks as an etchant, for example to provide optimal results it needs to be kept at 60 degrees, and also it's very hard to dispose of safely. My first attempts at etching copper traces (or more etching away all the copper except for what's covered by permanent marker) onto these boards were a mix of frustration and fascination. Figuring out the right balance of heat, timing, and patience feels like learning to ride a bike again—clumsy at first, but I know eventually I will get closer to mastering this process. Each etched board is a step closer to mastering a skill I know will serve me in the future.

Each new skill I pick up feels like an investment in my future. But the beauty of it is that I’m not just doing it for “someday.” There’s joy in the present, in the experimenting, and in the small victories along the way. Turning a stack of old laminate into something meaningful is its own reward.

And speaking of the future, it’s hard not to think about how these small experiments tie into it. It’s another skill I’m building for the days ahead—days where I’ll have a fully stocked workbench (maybe even a 3018 CNC machine to drill my boards properly). But here’s the thing: just because this is a skill for the future doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying the present. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

She reminded me of that once—not directly, but in the way she always gets me thinking about life differently. We’d been talking about how easy it is to get caught up in what’s next, in who we want to become. But what’s the point of chasing the future if we forget to appreciate the now? Those words echo in my head as I tinker with things through my hobbies, enjoying the messy, hands-on learning as much as the vision of what it might one day lead to.

So, here I am, etching traces on discarded boards, dreaming of bigger projects, and appreciating every little step along the way. One day, I’ll look back at these experiments as the foundation of something greater. But for now, they’re enough.