I'll admit to being hesitant about this installment of Urban Resources. I mean, just about every outdoorsman, farmer, biker, cop and firefighter I know is familiar with Ranger Bands. I figure most KintlaLake Blog readers are, too, and the subject has been covered extensively on the Web.
Then last week I saw an online retailer selling a pack of ten for $9.95, and it occurred to me that this post might be worthwhile after all.
My Scoutmaster, while prepping a group of us for a trip to Philmont Scout Ranch, introduced me to making industrial-strength rubber bands by cutting up inner tubes. On our trek through the Sangre de Cristo range, the bands were indispensable for securing all kinds of gear.
I've been using them ever since. It wasn't until years later that I learned that they're commonly called "Ranger Bands."
Depending on the type of inner tube -- mountain bike, road bicycle, truck, tractor, motorcycle, etc. -- and the width of section cut, it's possible to make custom bands for specific tasks. Some folks use a utility knife; I prefer scissors. Either way, it's ridiculously easy.
So there's no need to spend money on pre-packaged "official" Ranger Bands. And although it may be forgivable (and less expensive) to buy new inner tubes for the purpose, that's not necessary, either.
Last evening, for example, the younger spawn needed professional help lacing a BMX wheel, so we paid a visit to a local bicycle shop. As the shop owner patiently wove spokes onto the rim, I asked him if he had any huffed tubes laying around.
"We've got tons of 'em," he said, gesturing toward a large cardboard box in the corner. "Help yourself."
I rummaged through the castoffs, picking out a couple of skinny road-bike tubes that should yield about a hundred small bands -- and they were absolutely free.
Over the years I've done the same thing at tire installers, motorcycle shops and tractor-supply stores. All I had to do was ask.
There's truly no limit to the ways that Ranger Bands can be used. In the photo, there's a band around my motorcycle's tool roll and another securing the optics wrench supplied with my new Leatherman MUT. Lengths of bicycle tube make the Bic lighters grippier. Each of the Altoids tins holds a fire kit -- Ranger Bands keep the lids shut and the rubber can come in handy as a firestarter.
The band shown on my Bravo Necker's sheath gives me a place to stow a whistle, a compass, fatwood sticks or other small items. My modified Mora 640 no longer fits securely in its plastic sheath, but adding a wide mountain-bike band fixed the retention problem.
Beyond what's pictured, I'm always using Ranger Bands around the garage -- to clamp wood or leather, to suspend brake calipers while I have the wheels off my motorcycle, and more. Also, long strips of inner tube make dandy tie-downs.
I could go on, but I won't. Use your imagination -- just don't spend any money.
I skipped posting here yesterday, choosing to preserve a wonderfully peaceful Christmas Day in the KintlaLake household.
Our holiday revelry began on Thursday, actually, when my wife and I marked her birthday with a trip to Cementos for an evening of good friends and great music. The John Schwab Party Band, a subset of McGuffey Lane, provided the perfect soundtrack to our celebration.
Thanks to Christmas spirit, perhaps, the crowd was in a playfully festive mood. And thanks to the Italian restaurant next door, the all-you-can-eat buffet was free -- no cover.
Cementos, as it often does, hosted a high communion of local musicians. Gifted guitarist Mike Nugen guested throughout the gig. The five-piece band was joined at various times by an aging Kid Rock impersonator, a silver-haired fellow who played a mean harp -- sans harmonica -- and a vocalist known for his Zydeco stylings.
A light dusting of snow Friday night fulfilled our dream of a white Christmas. We drew close 'round our tree, exchanged gifts and embraced a life not imagined a year ago.
Although each day in this place is special, the last few weeks have presented us with sparkling reminders of our good fortune -- this holiday season seems to have gathered our blessings. Yesterday we shared our Christmas Day meal, mindful of the road that brought us here.
As Thoreau might say, these days we advance confidently in the direction of our dreams. It's all good.
Now, if you'll permit me, I want to thank Mrs. KintlaLake and the younger spawn for my holiday haul: an Everest Designs hat and a Leatherman MUT.
The fleece-lined wool hat, hand-knit in Nepal, is a welcome addition to my cold-weather kit. The practical-tactical MUT is rather specialized compared to my trusty Wave, fitted with gadgets designed to aid in servicing the AR-15/M-16 rifle platform. It appears to be well made, as I've come to expect of Leatherman, and very thoughtfully conceived. I'm especially impressed that a number of its normal-wear items are replaceable.
It's a safe bet that I'll have more to say later about the MUT.
Today we've escaped the Nor'easter battering the East Coast. The Lake Erie Snow Machine gave us another dusting anyway, enough to lure a few sledders to the hill behind our house but not enough to shovel.
The woods are laced in white, the landscape quiet save chattering chickadees and barking squirrels. It's a cold cap to a warm holiday weekend.
Over the weeks and weeks it took us to execute our household move, hundreds of times I reached for a folding knife or a multi-tool. Since the bulk of my sharps were packed away, only three saw duty.
Most often I pulled a Victorinox Farmer from my pocket -- no surprise to regular readers. From cutting cardboard and tape to removing a handful of wood screws securing a dinner bell to a door frame, this knife was unremarkably competent at everything I asked it to do.
If I have one complaint, it's that it takes two hands to open the Farmer -- but that's picking nits. Truth is, I could've unpacked a Bundeswehr or a new Soldier if I'd really wanted a one-hander. The bottom line is that the humble Farmer turned in a predictably solid performance.
I got up one morning a few weeks ago knowing that I'd be pulling a lot of RG-59 cable from the joists in our old house, and a multi-tool seemed right for that job. I clipped a SOG Paratool to my belt -- not my first choice, but it happened to be the only multi-tool that wasn't already buried in a box -- and headed down to the basement.
It didn't take long before I wished that I'd gone digging for my Leatherman Wave instead. The SOG's pliers proved plenty capable of twist-breaking dozens of cable ties and snipping the occasional wire, but whenever I needed to deploy a knife blade or a screwdriver tool, I was reminded how bloody inconvenient (and borderline unsafe) the Paratool is. I really want to love the American-made SOG, but I can't.
Note to self: Either sell the Paratool or pack it away.
I'm going to mention my new Benchmade 551 Griptilian here, even though I've been using it for less than a week. This is one excellent folder -- solid, sharp, smooth, well-designed and comfortable. Especially at its price ($63 street), in my opinion the made-in-USA Griptilian deserves consideration as a truly great knife.
No, my big orange Grip doesn't sport pliers and it can't turn screws. All the same, it's earned a place in my EDC rotation. It's a keeper.
I did, by the way, think about carrying and using a small fixed-blade during the move but decided against it. Maybe next time.
As for when "next time" might be, if it's a hundred years before we move again, it'll be too soon.
I've wanted to write about this knife for a while but just now got around to taking a few photographs. It's a No.648A sheath knife made in 1977 by Western Cutlery Company.
Founded in 1896, Western originally was located in Boulder, Colorado. In 1991, manufacturing moved to upstate New York when the company was acquired by Camillus, which closed its doors in 2007.
I bought this particular Western at an outfitter in Kalispell, Montana during the summer of 1978, just before heading out on a solo trek into the Boundary Mountains north of Kintla Lake. It was my first fixed-blade knife. As I recall, I paid less than fifteen bucks for it.
Since the No.648A is similar to a knife made by Western for the Boy Scouts, it may look familiar to other guys my age. The carbon-steel clip-pattern blade is 4-1/2" long. The faux Stag scales are Delrin, the guard brass and the pommel aluminum. It's not at all exotic.
In fact, by today's standards it's quite ordinary -- really, it's just a hardware-store knife. And to this day, it's never, ever let me down.
My old Western has a lot more mileage on it than might be apparent. In the woods it's done its share of notching and light felling, made countless feather sticks and split piles of kindling. It's cleaned trout for the skillet and cubed beef for the stew pot. Around the house it's done everything from stripping electrical wire to pruning roses.
After all that, the blade remains essentially full and the point is intact. There's nary a chip in the edge. I've never babied this knife but I've always respected its limits, and my reward has been more than three decades of faithful service. To my sentimental eyes, it looks ready for another 30 years, at least.
This morning I pulled it from my bedside drawer, intending simply to wipe it down with light oil. Turning the familiar form over in my hands, I decided it was time to give it a fresh edge, something I hadn't done for it in years.
An hour later, its keenness restored, the blade was sharp enough to push-cut a sheet of newsprint and pop the hairs off the back of my hand. Perfect -- that's what a keeper deserves.
Update: Heartland leather
On a side note, over the last few days I've been perusing custom sheaths on the JRE Industries website. I finally quit gawking and dropped JRE a note last night.
A half-dozen e-mails later, co-proprietor Dan had answered all of my questions and I'd decided on a simple belt sheath that'll accommodate my original Leatherman Wave and a firesteel. It may take nine weeks or more to arrive -- these things are made one at a time -- but in the meantime look for a link to KintlaLake Blog to appear on the JRE Industries website.
That'll work.
Earlier posts
Sharps: Rite of passage
Sharps: Heartland leather
Sharps, Part II: On the belt
Links
JRE Industries
As practical and appealing as I find pocketknives to be, sometimes there's a better (and bigger) tool for the job.
Almost without exception, "better" and "bigger" are accompanied by a higher price and a belt sheath. While the latter may be necessary, the former, at least for me, has its limits.
To be sure, there's nothing like using an expensive handmade knife. I'll even grant the higher quality and, in some cases, superior durability and utility of handcrafted blades and tools -- but are their ultimate attributes, whether real or romantic, worth $500, $1,000 or more?
That question must be answered by each buyer. For this buyer, the answer generally is "No."
With that said, here are some sharps that belong on my belt.
Multi-tools
The story about my choice of multi-tools is as simple as these gadgets are complex: the Leatherman Wave (street $75).
I find it easy to one-hand the Wave's pliers, and the two main cutting blades are designed to be opened with a flick of the thumb with the tool closed, an arrangement that works for me. I own both the original Wave (pictured) and the newer version (slightly larger blades and interchangeable screwdriver bits). Typical of my experience with Leatherman multi-tools, both are solid and durable.
To be fair, a bunch of other companies offer excellent multi-tools (Gerber, SOG, Buck and Victorinox among others) and I've used many of them. The one I most want to love is my SOG Paratool -- it's light, tough and full-featured, but I find the blades and small tools difficult to deploy quickly, so it rarely takes a ride on my belt.
Folders
My collection of single-blade folding knives began 26 years ago with a Case #2159 -- big and heavy, solid-brass frame and bolsters and phenolic scales. Its hollow-ground clip-pattern blade takes and holds a dangerous edge. I've worked that knife to the brink of abuse, but it refuses to surrender. It now lives in semi-retirement, a bona-fide keeper.
I'll confess to being seduced the first time I handled a Spyderco knife, and judging by the rash of shameless mimicry, many other cutlery companies were likewise smitten. My Endura 4 (retail $80, street $60) actually gets clipped to my pocket, not stuffed into a belt sheath. Its light weight belies its sturdiness and makes it a pleasure to use hard.
Today, my preferred go-to folder is the SOG Tomcat 3.0 (retail $230, street $110), a knife that fanned my lust for years before I found a good deal and gave in. It's stout, smooth, quiet, perfectly balanced and remarkably nimble for a large folder. The Tomcat's mild-recurve edge might just be my favorite blade -- ever.
Fixed blades
Among my retired knives is a small fixed-blade Western, similar to those made by that company for the Boy Scouts. I bought it at a trailhead outfitter during a long-ago summer in Montana, and it served me well on numerous treks into the wilderness. Despite the fact that it doesn't feature exotic steel or a high-tech serrated edge, it was a faithful companion that never let me down -- probably because I know a bit about bushcraft and respected the limits of this particular knife.
I'll wager that most fixed-blade knives in circulation are mass-market skinners or hunters like my Buck Special #119 (retail $80, street $35). Some will say that the tip of the blade is prone to breakage and that the phenolic handle material can be slippery when wet, but neither has been a problem for me. While this Buck may not be the ideal survival knife, when worked within its very reasonable limits I find it to be an excellent bushcraft tool.
I picked up the SOG Seal Pup Elite (retail $120, street $60) only recently, but based on its design and my previous experience with SOG, I have great expectations of the knife. At this point I can say that it's finished well, balances like it should, fits my hand perfectly and cuts like a demon. With a minimalist survival kit stashed in the front pocket of its nylon sheath, I can see this knife becoming the centerpiece of a compact grab-and-go system.
The closest I come to recommending a pricey handmade knife is the Bravo-1 from Bark River Knife & Tool (retail $220, street $150). The sharps produced by Mike Stewart's Michigan company inspire almost cult-like loyalty, and this knife shows why such devotion is deserved. Developed in cooperation with the USMC Force Recon Training Unit, the convex-grind Bravo-1 excels as a versatile, no-nonsense survival/bushcraft knife. Once you have it in your hand, you'll see why I believe that this Barkie is a winner.
(Read more about the Bravo-1 here and here.)
Like most people, sometimes I have a long wish list and a short wallet -- after all, I need to put together a go-kit for each member of my family. And I want to keep a knife in each vehicle. And I'm looking for a decent fixed-blade utility knife to carry while I'm doing yard work.
With that in mind, I like the Glock 81 Survival Knife (retail $50, street $20). No, this isn't the crème de la crème of fixed-blade knives -- some will deride it as "a brand-name bayonet" (which is pretty accurate) or even "a sharpened pry-bar" -- but in the bang-for-buck category, the Glock 81 is hard to beat. I've found that working the teeth of the "root saw" with a triangular file, followed by a few minutes' attention to the cutting edge with a good stone, makes the Glock quite capable.
These two posts aren't meant to be the last word on sharps -- other people will make different choices, and experience continues to shape my preferences.
My Scoutmaster, while prepping a group of us for a trip to Philmont Scout Ranch, introduced me to making industrial-strength rubber bands by cutting up inner tubes. On our trek through the Sangre de Cristo range, the bands were indispensable for securing all kinds of gear.
Depending on the type of inner tube -- mountain bike, road bicycle, truck, tractor, motorcycle, etc. -- and the width of section cut, it's possible to make custom bands for specific tasks. Some folks use a utility knife; I prefer scissors. Either way, it's ridiculously easy.
There's truly no limit to the ways that Ranger Bands can be used. In the photo, there's a band around my motorcycle's tool roll and another securing the optics wrench supplied with my new Leatherman MUT. Lengths of bicycle tube make the Bic lighters grippier. Each of the Altoids tins holds a fire kit -- Ranger Bands keep the lids shut and the rubber can come in handy as a firestarter.
