Knifemaking: a little bit at a time and the Scout

“Ready or not
I hear a clock tock ticking away
Though I’d asked for those hands to stay in place”

Correatown- “Everything, All at Once”

I wake up most mornings and wonder how I am going to get everything done.  I think about all the things I need to do, the things I want to do, and feel a little bit of shame over the things I’ve been meaning to do but haven’t done yet.  There is this mental space where I run through my entire life- where I’m born, I live, and I die, all before I even get out of bed.

At the bottom of all of the mental chatter there is a gentle little voice that says to do it a little bit at a time.  It also says that there is plenty of time.  Sometimes it gets drowned out but I know it’s there if I listen for it.  This is what gets me going.

For the past ten or so years I’ve taken walks in the woods.  As things get busier I don’t get out there as often as I’d like.  It’s an exercise in not trying to do everything all at once.  You walk the woods a little bit at a time, and the notion of trying to do anything other than that feels rather asinine.  I try to approach the things I have to do in this fashion.  It doesn’t always work and I get frustrated a lot.  A lot.  Sometimes the feeling of there not being enough time screams at me so loudly that I have to go home and take a nap.  Most times I’m not able to do that, in which case I try to take it back to the forest.  In being with that feeling I find that there usually is enough time.  If not, I try to remember that I am human being and not a human doing.

Attempting to do everything all at once is a sort of self-defeating behavior.  This type of all-or-nothing thinking tends to overwhelm and makes the idea of quitting into a rather attractive proposition.  Buying into this thinking gets you regret and remorse, but only after it has robbed you of your precious moments and there literally isn’t enough time.

This is the lesson of the Scout.  To walk your forest one step at a time.  It’s easy to get pulled off your path.  There are a thousand things that demand our attention and can pull us off of our center.  We can’t always give what we love the attention and care we would like and sometimes it’s easier to give up.  Don’t give up.  Do it a little bit at a time and it will all get done.

I wanted to make something that reminded me of this little area where I like to walk:

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I started with O1 tool steel and bushcraft style design with a handle that winds like the stream above.  I usually use 1095 because it’s cheap and I have a lot of it but I like using O1 for the Chromium in it- it polishes up nicely

Hardened:

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Sanded.  Not too shiny because he is built to be used:

Here is what I used for the handle- quartersawn white oak, olive drab g-10, and brass.  It was a bit of an undertaking and there was some improvising because some things didn’t go as planned.  One step at a time…

Cut.

Glued.  This came apart soon after.  I tried to keep the brass cool when cutting it but it got too hot and melted the epoxy.  More steps, keep moving…

Clamped…finally

Glue is set.

Rough shaping.

Cleaned up.  Now to sand…

The Scout:

 

 

A little bit at a time.  Keep moving, even when it feels like everything is impossibly slow and it will never get done.  Challenge that, and walk your forest.  There’s plenty of time.

Knifemaking: the Lioness, revisited

“The stuff we make don’t go bad”

“The ugly dog barks the longest”

Tray Eppes: potter, musician, fully present citizen of the Universe

(you can find the initial crafting of the Lioness here)

So a number of years ago one of my best friends asked me if I wanted to play a gig with him and his godfather.  It was a Christmas parade in a small town about two hours away.  We were both in music school and played near any gig we could get.  Neither of had cars at the time and a big ass Dodge truck piloted by a gentleman with a large beard pulled up.  This was Tray.  On the way we stopped at a jazz club, had a few cold ones, and heard some badass tunes.  We got to Tray’s farm at around 2am and he showed me his guitar rig (at full blast).  I went to sleep to the sound of coyotes howling.  I got up and Tray’s wife had made us smoked venison with Hollandaise sauce on a lightly toasted English muffin.  We drove to town and played brass band versions of Christmas songs and it was a blast.

We played those parades for the next couple of years.  We spent a New Years out there.  As I recall we drank gin and sat in the outdoor hot tub in front of a fire the size of Rhode Island.  I make sure to keep in touch with Tray and his wife.

A couple months ago I was standing in the middle of a field working security for a country music concert, alone with my thoughts due to the fact that most of the audience was in the beer tent and there wasn’t much securing to do.  In those moments I often find myself thinking about places I’d rather be and in this case I would have rather been, well, almost anywhere else.  I decided I would call Tray and see how he made a living making the things he makes: killer pottery.

He told me about selling pottery to the Amish.  The Amish don’t have any possessions that are purely decorative. If there are pictures on the wall, it is most likely a Bible verse written in a modest calligraphy.  Likewise, nothing is frivolously decorated.  This particular group, Tray was telling me, used white dishes.  Tray also told me that white pottery is a bit more labor intensive than his normal work and the Amish are the only ones who ask for it.  So he can make a large batch of it and have it on hand and not have to fool with it for awhile.  He was explaining to the Amish man he can make it and sell it years later.

“Ahh”, said the Amish man.  “Not like spoilt cow’s milk.”

This was when he told me the stuff we make doesn’t spoil.  You can go back and rework things that you aren’t happy with.  I’ve had a few proverbial ugly dogs barking at me and recently I’ve been reworking those.   And it’s not limited to just pottery, or knives, or music…just because you were one way yesterday doesn’t mean that’s how you have to be today.

Tray also ordered a knife and a sheath.  I made him this:

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For the Lioness I found the blade to be too thick.  I went and ground down the bevel, which in turn improved the balance of the blade.  I wasn’t happy with the finish so I took care of that as well.  All of this came from a gentle place.  Nothing is going to spoil.

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O1 tool steel, Cherrywood handle, and brass hardware

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The nice thing about refinishing a wooden handle (or wooden anything) is that the grain is so much more prominent due to the permeation of the finishing oil.  The grain pops much more grandly than it did the first time around.  I see it as a little gift for going back and trying to make it better.

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I also smoothed and polished up the tang.

Tray and a much younger me

Tray and a much younger me

Check out Tray’s site at here and drop him a line