Showing posts with label axe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label axe. Show all posts

Sunday, May 13, 2012

Sharps: 'The Woodsman's Tools' (1948)

On this rainy Sunday morning I'm compelled to return to that 1948 Handbook for Boys (1953 printing) and what it has to say about edged tools. Chapter 15 opens with this paragraph:
"Pioneers who settled America and built homes, and cut farms and roads out of a wilderness, depended more on their axes and knives than on any other equipment except their guns. A knife and axe still are a woodsman's most useful tools."
I'm not suggesting that these eight pages, crafted over 60 years ago as a primer for young Scouts, are either comprehensive or conclusive. The information is, however, fundamentally sound and has aged well.



Sunday, April 29, 2012

'Handbook for Boys' (1948)

Presented with a cold and rainy Saturday, yesterday Mrs. KintlaLake and I spent a half-dozen hours visiting local garage sales and second-hand shops in search of treasures and odd bargains.

Her prize was a whimsical electric chandelier destined to hang over our patio. I was rewarded with a tattered-but-intact copy of the 1948 Boy Scout Handbook.

The cover price of this edition of Handbook for Boys was 65¢ (equivalent to $5.58 today). I fished it out of a pile of books at the Olde Shoe Factory Antique Mall in Lancaster and paid four bucks for it.

This particular copy is from the 1948 edition's sixth printing in 1953. A handwritten inscription on the first page records that a Scout leader presented it to the young owner in November of 1953 -- that's fifteen years before I earned the rank of Tenderfoot myself.

Thumbing through the Handbook's 570 pages transports me back to my own days in Scouting. All the elements of Scoutcraft are there -- it's chock-full of primers on essential skills.

In the back of the Handbook, among pages devoted to "Books to Read" and the Index, are advertisements aimed at boys of Scouting age. To me, these are just as interesting (and perhaps more significant, culturally) as the rest of the book.

There are ads for woodcraft tools, naturally, from Marble's and Plumb, along with a page promoting Eveready flashlights and batteries. Other ads pitch shoes (Keds, Buster Brown), bicycles (Schwinn, Raleigh), photography (Kodak, Sylvania) and sports equipment (Spalding, Louisville Slugger, Bike jockstraps).

A few of the others: Lionel Trains, Evinrude and Johnson outboard motors, Aunt Jemima Pancake Mix, Coca-Cola, Baby Ruth and Tootsie Roll.

During these post-World War II years, mastering marksmanship (with actual firearms, I mean) still was considered Scoutcraft. That's why this printing included ads for Winchester, Marlin and Iver Johnson rifles. Remington went so far as to invest in a two-page spread, the only such ad in this Handbook.

Air guns do make one appearance in the Handbook's advertising section. According to the Crosman ad, a "bolt-action, single shot, gas-powered pellet rifle" -- complete with refillable CO2 cylinder -- could be had for $21.95.

That's $188.58 in today's dollars. At the time, an honest-to-goodness Winchester Model 69 cost just $28.65 (or $244.32 now).


Monday, March 12, 2012

Yellowed pages IV

Here are two more vintage Marble's advertisements, both from 1922.

"For Campers" (right) comes from the pages of Outing magazine. It was aimed squarely at families and young couples caught up in the out-of-doors movement sweeping the U.S. during the late 1800s and early 1900s.

The products featured in the ad are familiar: Marble's Safety Axe and Woodcraft fixed-blade knife; compass, match case and fishing rod. And the company's longtime tag-line, "For every hour in the open," shows up at the end of the piece.

The second ad (below) touts "Marble's Outing Equipment, Preferred by Outdoor Men." It's a more straightforward pitch, appearing in a more narrowly focused publication (Hunter-Trader-Trapper). Again we see the Woodcraft and the Safety Axe, joined by a mechanical gaff and a gun sight.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Yellowed pages III

Until this morning I hadn't browsed Google Books' collection of vintage out-of-doors magazines in quite some time, and it's been a couple of years since I last posted an old Marble's ad here on KintlaLake Blog.

Marble's Safety Axe Co. placed an ominous pitch (right) in a 1908 issue of Recreation. It tells of a misfortunate whose broken knife (not a Marble's, presumably) kept him from repelling an attacking bear.

Oh, if only he'd had a Marble's Safety Pocket Knife!

More believable, I think, and certainly more conventional for the time, is an ad (below) for Marble Arms & Mfg. Co., found in a 1918 issue of Hunter-Trader-Trapper. It features the classic Safety Axe, along with two of "Marble's Famous Hunting Knives" -- the Ideal and the Expert.
It's worth noting that in 1918 a Marble's Ideal cost between $2.25 (stacked-leather handle, five-inch blade) and $3.50 (stag handle, eight-inch blade). The cocobolo-handled Expert, offered only with a five-inch blade, was priced at $2.25.

Ten years earlier, a budding bear-slayer would've spent $4.00 to land a Marble's Safety Pocket Knife.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

Sharps: When is a Scout not a Scout?

Dear Parents and Carers:

During the next few weeks we intend to pursue traditional Scoutcraft, teaching our Scouts about axemanship, bush saws and knives.

We will teach good-practice dos and don'ts and use of woodcraft tools, encouraging responsibility and safety. We know this will be challenging for our Scouts, but we believe it will help develop responsibility and maturity.

Should you wish that your Scout not participate in an activity involving knives and axes, please make us aware of your wishes. You may choose to keep your Scout at home on those days. We will, of course, support your decision.

Please note that even after a Scout earns the Knife Badge, Scouting regulations prohibit the carrying of a knife under any circumstances without the express permission of the Scout Leader, and even then only when the Scout is in camp or is directly supervised.

Many thanks,
Your Scout Leaders

[That isn't a work of pessimistic fiction -- it's typical of letters sent to parents and "carers" of Scouts in the U.K. these days.]

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Forest & Stream: 'Nessmuk's Camp Fire'

I devoted the previous post to Outing, so this go-'round I thought I'd give equal time (sort of) to another venerable outers' publication.

Early in 1916, Forest & Stream magazine announced a new regular feature called "Nessmuk's Corner And Camp Fire." Its purpose was described (with feigned puffery) as being "For the Alleviation of the Woes and Troubles of the Camper and the Entertainment and Exchange of Views of Outdoor People Generally."

The feature was named for Woodcraft author, Forest & Stream contributor and out-of-doors icon "
Nessmuk" -- a.k.a. George Washington Sears, who'd died in 1890 -- and was hosted by the otherwise-unnamed "Old Camper." The magazine's readers were encouraged to provide the content:

"If you have any troubles or tangles growing out of your experiences, bring them to The Corner and we will endeavor to untrouble and untangle 'em. If you have had any curious adventures or have hit on some short-cut way of accomplishing things, let The Corner know about it, and the more 'cur'ouser' the story the better.

"Please remember that this is your Corner. The great army of Forest and Stream readers can keep it going only by contributing to it, for while 'Old Camper' may be able to stand up for a time under the burden of writing questions to himself and answering them, The Corner would quickly fizzle out under one man's editing."

By 1917, "Nessmuk's Corner And Camp Fire" had become simply "Nessmuk's Camp Fire." Its masthead would evolve, too -- the three examples below chart the changes through 1919, when The Camp Fire warranted a two-page opening spread.



Nessmuk's Camp Fire was a friendly, down-to-earth place in a magazine that strained to span the range from sophisticated to downright primitive. I've enjoyed every installment I've read.

I urge KintlaLake Blog readers to visit Google Books, dig up a volume of Forest & Stream and have a seat by The Camp Fire. You might, like me, learn a thing or two while you're there.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Saturday-morning rewind

It's quiet here in the KintlaLake household, as I'm the only one who's stirred at this hour on a Saturday. Sitting at my desk, sipping coffee from a stoneware mug, I found myself browsing Google Books -- specifically, trolling its trove of old magazines.

The first article that caught my attention today was "The Scout and His Equipment," penned for the February 1934 issue of Boys' Life by the incomparable Dan Beard.

There's nothing earth-shaking in the piece, certainly. It's basic and, from a modern perspective, undeniably quaint. To the clear-eyed reader it's also obvious that it was placed to accompany dozens of "official" product pitches from the likes of Remington, Eveready, Ulster, Marble, Buster Brown, Plumb, Johnson & Johnson and others.

Seems the "special advertising section" isn't exactly a new concept.

Beyond the commercial slant, and given my own affection for sharps, one particular line stood out to me:

"A boy without a knife is as bad as a canoe without paddles, a lumberman without an axe, or a girl without a compact."
Uncle Dan was right about that, of course. Knowing that present-day Scouts are explicitly discouraged from carrying knives, however, his words have almost a poignant ring.

Moving on to a 1950 issue of Popular Mechanics, I flipped through a primer on "
Trail Knives," which prominently (and intentionally, I'd wager) featured Marble's fixed-blades and the Woodsman's Pal.

Last I landed on the June 1919 issue of Popular Science, where I found reader Rodney Bryson's advice on what to do with old inner tubes (pictured at right).

Strange -- he didn't call them "
Ranger Bands."

Whenever I catch myself craving the latest and greatest something-or-other, rewinding through these old publications often reminds me that there truly is nothing new under the sun.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Backyard firebuilding, Part I

It's the perfect winter's morning -- there's snow on the ground, the sun shines from a clear sky and the winds are calm. Bitter as it is, it doesn't feel unpleasantly cold.

The temp hadn't reached 10°F when I headed outside to liberate our American flag, which had hung up on the front-porch gutter and froze fast. As I was putting the ladder away after, I spied my old
Estwing carpenter's hatchet hanging on the garage wall and hatched an idea.

Grabbing the hatchet and a folding saw, I walked back to the edge of the woods. I'd had my eye on a dead hardwood, probably an Ohio Buckeye, for a while now. At four inches in diameter and about eight feet long it'd be easy to process. And because it was a "leaner," held off the snow-covered ground by surrounding growth, it was ideally dry.

I used the saw to cut it into three portable sections -- crown, trunk and base -- and hauled it home in one trip. After stripping twigs and smaller limbs, I bucked the trunk (with the saw) into 12-inch lengths.

A carpenter's hatchet may not be my first choice to split kindling, but for this backyard fire I'm using backyard tools. My antique-store Estwing worked just fine cleaving the dry, frozen wood (stubborn knots notwithstanding).

I made one more trip back to the tree line, harvesting a couple of resinous pine stubs to serve as a natural firestarter. Less than 45 leisurely minutes after I began, I had the makings of a respectable fire.

One of the best things about this morning's exercise, I think, was doing the job with less-than-ideal hardware -- a used hatchet and a cheap lawn-and-garden saw. It's a reminder that skills, not tools, matter.

I'm not sure when we'll light our backyard fire -- maybe later today, maybe tomorrow. That'll be Part II.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Sharps: Diggin' the Gold

Because sharps has been the most popular recurring theme here on KintlaLake Blog, and by request, today I'm posting a few two-page spreads from The Golden Book of Camping and Camp Crafts. (Be sure to click on each image for a larger view.)

First, here's "Your Knife and How To Use It."


And here are two sections dealing with axemanship -- "The Ax and Its Care" and "Using the Ax in Camp."



I don't consider a kids' book to be sine qua non on the subject, of course. I offer these classic pages simply as sentimental snapshots, suspecting that others who grew up in the late 1950s and early 1960s will appreciate them as much as I do.

But for those who still turn up their noses at Golden Books, preferring their edged-tool reading with a longer beard, I'll close with an excerpt from Will C. Stevens' "
Sensible Outfit for Amateur Hikers," which appeared in the May 1914 issue of Outing -- enjoy.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Sharps: Vaughan Sub-Zero Axe

It's been almost six years since the folks up at Bark River Knife & Tool (now Bark River Knives) gave us their Mini-Axe. Actually a massaged version of the American-made Vaughan SuperSportsman's Sub-Zero Axe, this tiny tool (12 ounces total weight, 11 inches overall length) immediately won praise for its ability to outperform much larger hatchets and 'hawks.

The Bark River Mini Axe hasn't been produced for quite some time. Occasionally they do pop up for sale on eBay or woodcraft forums -- at premium prices, of course -- but as good as the Barkie custom is reputed to be, I'm not willing to spend $125 to $150 to add a pocket axe to my
ready set.

Instead, I decided to roll my own.

The first step was to pick up a Vaughan Sub-Zero ($18) and the tools required to sharpen it correctly -- a pair of Nicholson 8-inch flat files and a file-cleaning brush, a dual-grit oilstone and a couple of 3M sanding sponges (total price $14). I already had a few other items I'd need, namely a Scotch-Brite pad, honing oil and almond oil.

Since I'm not an axe-sharpening wizard, before beginning I consulted The Axe Book offered by Gränsfors Bruks and An Axe to Grind by Bernie Weisgarber. And even though I'd be using only hand tools, I reviewed Mike Stewart's 2005 KnifeForums
post detailing the 25 separate operations that transformed each Vaughan Sub-Zero into a Bark River Mini Axe.

My little Vaughan arrived in pretty rough shape, its head encased in a thick coat of clear polyurethane and its edge absolutely dull. (I don't mean not sharp -- I mean blunt.) Its hickory handle, while relatively straight-grained, was rough in spots and included a bit of heartwood toward the foot. The head had been hung crooked, too.

I laid out my tools and got to work on the edge, first with a double-cut file and then with a single-cut. Next came the oiled stone, coarse side followed by fine, the sanding sponges and a leather hone loaded with black stropping compound. I sanded most of the poly coating from the face and removed all of it from the poll. The latter was left shiny, the former with more of a satiny finish.

The sanding sponges and Scotch-Brite pad made short work of the handle, which got three rubdowns with almond oil.

A quick trip to the woodpile confirmed the Vaughan's utility as well as exposing its limits. It split three-inch seasoned ash into kindling fairly easily and, when called upon to chop a notch in a length of dry oak, it threw respectable (albeit not award-winning) chips.

The new convex edge is keen enough to be useful but (because of the head's geometry) it's still too thick and steep to be spectacular. Sooner or later I'll have to break out my files again and fix that. Also, the yawed head will hamper ultimate performance but it doesn't yet justify my buying a new handle and re-hanging it. Likewise, the supplied vinyl sheath is cheap but adequate.

See, I have no illusions about the Vaughan Sub-Zero -- even properly sharpened, it remains a very small $18 axe. I don't expect to build a cabin with it, nor did I set out to replicate the Bark River Mini-Axe. For its price and used within its limits, I have a handy woods tool.

The best part of this exercise, though, was choosing to forgo an expensive off-the-shelf solution in favor of developing my skills. And that, with apologies to MasterCard, is priceless.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Another swing of the hatchet

While I was on the phone this morning, expressing my habit of doodling in three dimensions I picked up that old Estwing hatchet and began turning it over in my hands. I mentioned in yesterday's post that I'd found three letters scribed into the tool's carbon-steel shank, but until today I hadn't spotted a second set of scratchings on the opposite side.

Some hours later I squinted through a magnifying glass at the faint letters -- first name and surname, postal route, town and state. A quick bit of research, colored by a splash of speculation, gives me a story to tell.

The place-name leads to a farming community north of Chillicothe, Ohio. As for the hatchet's owner, two candidates emerge -- father and son, Sr. and Jr.

The father was of my grandparents' era, born in Ross County in October of 1901; his death was recorded in the same locale in January of 1981. His namesake, who in his eighties reportedly goes by "Sonny," apparently still lives there. A satellite image shows the address to be a collection of buildings, surrounded by cultivated fields, at the end of a long lane.

With only sketchy information it's impossible to say for sure, of course, but it's my guess that the hatchet was employed on the family farm and may have been sold as part of the father's estate.

By today's standards, this scarred-up tool should've been retired long ago. It's not new, hardly state-of-the-art, neither pretty nor perfect.

Human hands in Rockford, Illinois forged this hatchet to last and, by god, it survived under the unsentimental lash of Depression-hardened Heartlanders. It saw a lifetime of use before finding
its way to me -- what to do with it now?

I think I know what the tool's original owner might've said:

Use it up, wear it out;
Make it do or do without.
That's certainly what my father and his father would've said. There is indeed a story in this humble hatchet, and the telling of that tale isn't finished quite yet.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Sharps: Estwing carpenter's hatchet

Each and every time I've wandered the maze of aisles at an indoor antiques mall recently, a certain old-school tool has caught my eye. Yesterday I shelled out a few bucks and brought it home.


It's an Estwing carpenter's hatchet, 13 inches long with a straight, stacked-leather handle. Its condition testifies to hard use. The letters "THH" are scratched into the shank.

Estwing has been around since 1923 and this hatchet is typical of the company's one-piece forged designs. I have no idea how old it is, but I can say with near-certainty that it has no value whatsoever as a collectible -- it looks like the blade was shortened by a half-inch or more and re-profiled at some point, perhaps because the edge broke or chipped.

It came to me crudely ground, with a handle so grimy that it looked like it was wrapped in electrician's tape. I spent five minutes scrubbing the gucked-up leather and ten more knocking the shoulders off of the bevel.

It feels like a keeper and a user -- not much of a woods tool, really, but it could be an ideal backyard companion. Kindling, anyone?

Monday, March 1, 2010

Yellowed pages II

Having nothing of substance to say on this, the first day of March -- and being too busy to say it even if I did -- here's one more Marble's ad from a 1918 issue of Outing magazine.

Obviously this was before my time -- hell, it was almost a decade before my father's time -- but I'm thoroughly intrigued by this stuff, on many levels.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Yellowed pages

While taking some hard-won time today to unwind, I stumbled across a digital edition of a turn-of-the-(last)-century magazine called Outing. Published from the 1880s into the 1920s, Outing ran the gamut of outdoor sports, notably hunting, fishing, hiking and the like.

I'd found a compendium of 1918 issues, more than 800 pages in all, and what appealed most to me were the ads. I present three of them here -- two for Colt firearms and one for Webster Marble's venerable edged tools -- trimmed by an endearing excerpt from a 1915 article entitled, "Knives I have Known: How Various Types Meet the Real Woodsman's Test of Ability to Slice Bacon" by C.L. Gilman.

"Neither as a weapon nor as a means of giving his prey the thrust of mercy has the knife any claim to a place on the belt of the wilderness adventurer. And right here the knife serves, if one may borrow some from the Book of Rites of the Boy Scouts, as a ready guide to the three preliminary degrees of woodsmanship.

"First, there is the tenderfoot, who carries a sheath knife of the bowie pattern on his hip ready for cutting the throat of the buck he expects to find posing for his rifle and for that hand-to-hand grapple with an infuriated bear which lurks pleasantly shuddersome in his imagination.

"Next comes the 'second-class' scout who, having found no fighting or throatcutting to flesh his maiden steel, makes pompous parade of his wearing no knife at all.

"Finally, there are a few who, having passed and persevered through the two first stages, may fairly lay claim to the title of 'first-class scout' who have a real use in mind for the blades which dangle from the reefing straps of their breeches. And that use is generally slicing bacon with a little skinning and general whittling on the side. A good bacon knife will peel the hide from a muskrat very neatly and then -- after sundry and searching purifying processes -- go back to slicing bacon.

"Careful case-keeping on the uses made of a sheath knife during twelve months of woods living shows the slicing of bacon far in the lead, snipping browse second and general whittling, potato peeling, and skinning trailing along in the order named."

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Sharps: Ready set

When today's outdoorsmen talk of the tools and the mindset that they take with them into the woods, more often than not they'll invoke the names of Nessmuk and Kephart.

In the 1880s, "Nessmuk" was the by-line of stories penned by George Washington Sears for Forest and Stream magazine. The Massachusetts native wrote of camping and paddling in the Adirondacks of upstate New York, and his 1884 landmark book, Woodcraft, has never gone out of print.

Horace Kephart followed Nessmuk chronologically and, in many ways, philosophically. Also a contributor to Forest and Stream, his articles were gathered into Camping and Woodcraft, first published in 1906.
Kephart was born a Pennsylvanian, but he's best known for writing of his life in and love of the Smokies of western North Carolina. He was an early and avid proponent of establishing Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Nessmuk and Kephart are read and revered to this day, arguably the old and new testaments of life in the woods. Both men espoused respect for the land and pioneered what we now refer to as "ultralight" camping.


In homage of a sort, each man has a knife pattern that bears his name. Beyond those iconic blades, what bears remembering are the "systems" of edged tools that accompanied them on their wilderness forays a century ago.

These days many of us are preoccupied with chasing the do-it-all knife, and that's fine as far as it goes. There's nothing wrong with nurturing the skills required to survive if limited to a single blade.

Nessmuk, by contrast, was a woodsman, not a survivalist. He was bent on thriving in wild places, writing of a sensible trio of tools: a hatchet, a simple jackknife and a fixed-blade of his own design. Here's how he described each part of his woodcraft system:

"The hatchet and knives shown...will be found to fill the bill satisfactorily so far as cutlery may be required. Each is good and useful of its kind, the hatchet especially, being the best model I have ever found for a 'double-barreled' pocket-axe."

"Before I was a dozen years old I came to realize that a light hatchet was a sine qua non in woodcraft, and I also found it a most difficult thing to get. ... I had hunted twelve years before I caught up with the pocket-axe I was looking for."

"A word as to knife, or knives. These are of prime necessity, and should be of the best, both as to shape and temper. The 'bowies' and 'hunting knives' usually kept on sale, are thick, clumsy affairs, with a sort of ridge along the middle of the blade, murderous looking, but of little use; rather fitted to adorn a dime novel or the belt of 'Billy the Kid,' than the outfit of the hunter. The one shown...is thin in the blade, and handy for skinning, cutting meat, or eating with. The strong double-bladed pocket knife is the best model I have yet found, and, in connection with the sheath knife, is all sufficient for camp use."

I'll admit to getting a kick out of that third passage -- it seems that "tacticool" knives were as prevalent in the 19th Century as they are today. Thirty-three years later, Kephart echoed his predecessor:

"A woodsman should carry a hatchet, and he should be as critical in selecting it as in buying a gun. The notion that a heavy hunting knife can do the work of a hatchet is a delusion. When it comes to cleaving carcasses, chopping kindling, blazing thick-barked trees, driving tent pegs or trap stakes, and keeping up a bivouac fire, the knife never was made that will compare with a good tomahawk."

"The conventional hunting knife is, or was until recently, of the familiar dime-novel pattern invented by Colonel Bowie. It is too thick and clumsy to whittle with, much too thick for a good skinning knife, and too sharply pointed to cook and eat with. It is always tempered too hard. When put to the rough service for which it is supposed to be intended, as in cutting through the ossified false ribs of an old buck, it is an even bet that out will come a nick as big as a saw-tooth -- and Sheridan forty miles from a grindstone!"

"The jackknife has one stout blade equal to whittling seasoned hickory, and two small blades, of which one is ground thin for such surgery as you may have to perform (keep it clean). Beware of combination knives; they may be passable corkscrews and can openers, but that is about all."

That's great stuff, isn't it? It's nothing short of essential, elemental woodcraft -- but if we use Nessmuk's and Kephart's philosophies only as our springboard for nostalgia or mimicry, we miss the point.

Sure, we can plunge headlong into the wilds equipped with modern copies of Kephart- and Nessmuk-pattern fixed-blades, along with duplicates of their axes and jackknives. Truth is, that wouldn't be a bad place to start -- but it's only a start.

Reading more carefully the writings of Nessmuk and Kephart, we find that each man arrived at his well-known system through trial and error -- "I had hunted twelve years before I caught up with the pocket-axe I was looking for" -- so why shouldn't we?

They found tools that worked by working the tools they had. I'm willing to bet that had George and Horace lived longer, their practical experience would've shaped their choices even further.

And so, it seems to me, we can draw two fundamental lessons about edged tools from these woodcraft legends: have a system and work the system. With that mindset, we can get past mere imitation.

Mike Stewart of Bark River Knife & Tool, for example, has this latter-day take on a "bushcraft set":

"I like to have...a four-inch blade and a smaller knife (fixed or folder) for fine work, and either a mini-axe or Golok. With that set, there isn't much that can't be accomplished -- from basic camp chores to shelter building.

"While I agree with the concept of the three-tool set (like Sears), I don't agree with his selection of cutting tools. In practice, I actually expand the three-tool set into four by carrying a small fixed-blade and a folder in my pocket. I can't imagine not having a folder in my pocket at all times."

See, it's not heresy to differ with Nessmuk or to stray from Kephart's model. In fact, I contend that challenging these standards -- based on personal experience -- is the whole idea.

The KintlaLake set, reflecting my own experience, is heavy on the light end and light on the heavy end: a four-inch fixed-blade knife, supplemented by a smaller fixed-blade and a pocketknife, folder or multi-tool. No axe, no Golok and no machete.

I plan to fix that -- not only by adding a more substantial tool or two, but also in terms of gaining experience, mastering skills and doing actual woodswork. I may not have cause to carry a hatchet or a Clax on a day hike with the family, but I owe it to myself to find out what works best for me at the bigger end of a compact bushcraft system.

Stay tuned.

Earlier posts
Sharps: A philosophy

Links
Woodcraft, by Nessmuk (aka George Washington Sears)
Camping and Woodcraft, by Horace Kephart (1917 edition)