Things that were covetable become mundane, and then, stained with memory become keys to the past.
As regular readers will know, BoB dropped of a few bits of kit that he’d found while clearing out our folks’ attic. While it was great to see the Opinels again, and a Trangia can only be useful, the real prize was to see my old sheath knife again. The keepers of the family legend are divided as to just how long I’ve had this knife for, if it isn’t 30 years its not far off. As you can see the carbon blade has acquired quite a patina. The tip had a little more acute point when it first came out of the workshop.
The Pommel was a fair bit smoother. But boys will be boys. As dads who were lads ‘ll tell you, boys are tough on their stuff.
As lads we used to play a knife game called ‘splits’. You (well not you, you have more sense, but your teenage self), stand toe-to-toe with your opponent. . Each of you takes it in turn to throw their knife into the ground. Wherever it sticks (not lands, it must be sticks. lands is instant forfeit of the game) the other player must put their foot. Both feet remain flat on the ground – no heeling allowed. All forms of psychological jiggery-pokery are legal. Think of the game as being like Twister with attitude.
Even in the 70’s before 'PC' and ‘Health and Safety’ someone would come and put a stop to it when we were playing in bare feet.
The leather slices that make up the handle have been worn slick by use and by time.
I took a chip out of the first inch of the blade, (guess how that got there!) and I started to run a ceramic file over the gnarls in the pommel, but I stopped. Every ding and scrape is the track left by a tale.
The SharpMaker worked its magic, and the blade is once again shaving sharp. The design makes for a great bushcraft knife, the back of the blade is nicely rounded where you’d want to put your thumb and the false edge up front is acute enough to makes some big sparks from the Swedish firesteel.
Thanks BoB.