When I turned 5 years old I remember my father taking me down to his workshop on my birthday.
I had that 6th sense, that all children seem to have, that something exciting was going to happen, after all, I was turning 5!
He went over to one of the shevles that had old jars full of nails and myterious tin boxes that were well out of my reach, opened a brown tin box that had a lock on the front and produced a tiny sheath knife.
I remember my pulse quicken when I saw it, the white handle and grey pewter pommel, the dark leather sheath with decades of use and history behind it.
Dad got down to my level and carefully explained how to use a knife to me for what seemed like the hundreth time. In fact, he had been showing me how to use a knife safely and effectively by example and in simple words ever since I was about 3.5 years old, and it had all been leading up to this.
Then the moment came. He took the knife by the blade and handed me the handle with these words: " This knife was your grandfathers, his father gave it to him when he turned 5. When I turned 5 he gave it to me, and now I'm giving it to you. Keep it clean and sharp. No man should be unarmed."
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I had that 6th sense, that all children seem to have, that something exciting was going to happen, after all, I was turning 5!
He went over to one of the shevles that had old jars full of nails and myterious tin boxes that were well out of my reach, opened a brown tin box that had a lock on the front and produced a tiny sheath knife.
I remember my pulse quicken when I saw it, the white handle and grey pewter pommel, the dark leather sheath with decades of use and history behind it.
Dad got down to my level and carefully explained how to use a knife to me for what seemed like the hundreth time. In fact, he had been showing me how to use a knife safely and effectively by example and in simple words ever since I was about 3.5 years old, and it had all been leading up to this.
Then the moment came. He took the knife by the blade and handed me the handle with these words: " This knife was your grandfathers, his father gave it to him when he turned 5. When I turned 5 he gave it to me, and now I'm giving it to you. Keep it clean and sharp. No man should be unarmed."
And with that, the knife was mine! I can still remember the excitment of having a knife of my own, and I still feel the same thrill whenever I pick that tiny knife up.
This little knife, that has no markings, is well over 80 years old now and is still razor sharp. It has all the attributes and characteristics of a good knife:
1) the blade is a full tang
2) the blade is well hardened and tempered making it flexible enough not to snap, easy enough to sharpen but with good edge retaining qualities.
3) the edge of this knife is a single bevel, like a scandinavian knife, making it very easy to sharpen.
4) the handle is durable and comfortable to use, even for a full grown person despite it's small size.
5) the handle is still tight and firmly affixed to the knife blade.
That summer, armed with this tiny knife, my father took me into the back woods of Alaska to begin teaching me how to live successfully and comfortably in the wilderness.
My Dad had a wealth of knowledge to share with me after years of working for the Geologic Survey of Canada. An interesting aside, he was on many, including the very last GSC exploratory expeditions into the far north venturing where no european had ever gone before. Because of this background he took the ability to survive alone for weeks at a time with little to no supply line very seriously and wanted to impart his wisdom to me. Later on, I'll tell you more of what he taught me. But this entry is more about knives.
As I grew I came to realize that I needed a larger knife to get the things done I wanted to out in the bush. The little one of gramps was good, but it wasn't quite "cutting" it for the job.
Therefore, at around the age of 18 I decided to make a knife for myself. I had seen some Finnish knives (puukko) and really appreciated the workmanship, the utility of the blade and the overall balance. And so I created a puukko for myself from some old scrap steel I had found on the road and made it to measure for a sheath I found (without a knife in it... sadly) while out hiking in the Rockies. The handle is a section of stag antler I found in the boreal forest of northern Alberta.
This was the result:
I continued to use and enjoy this knife for years and years until our second anniversary when my wife bought me a real Finnish puukko with my name on the side.
The blade on the Finnish puukko is somewhat shorter than the knife that I made, but it is still sufficient for most everything and is heavy enough to accomplish even the hardest tasks without damage.
Ever since I recieved this wonderful gift I have been using it as my daily knife.
It was made by Kauko Raatiniemi of Kolari, in Finnish Lapland, and similar ones can be found at this website: http://www.woodjewel.com/PublishedService?file=page&pageID=3&action=view&groupID=306
Next time I'll go into how to choose a good bushcrafting knife and how to safely use it.
Cheers! And enjoy nature!
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