The scent of autumn

 It is here. That time of year when the year draws to a close. As with old age, things start withering, but there is also an air of one last violent flourishing, of ripening fruit and flourishing herbs, of sprouting mushrooms, violently pushing out from the dark. It is here. That time of the year, when mists waft through the darkening woods, and the sounds grow silent, until silence is all that remains.

I went out in the woods, following narrow trails seldom trod, relishing in the silence and the twilight as in a precious dark red wine long dispensed with, enjoying all those colours becoming so much more vivid and elegant.

 European Rowan berries (Sorbus Aucuparia, in German: Vogelbeere, Ebereschenbeere). They are rich with Vitamin C, but also with Paraascorbin acid, which is laxative. Therefore rowan berries should not be eaten unprocessed.  I collected some for gin. Take two handfuls for one litre of Vodka, cover with Kandis sugar or honey. But first let them rest in watered vinegar for three days. Then take them out, rinse them with water, and process them further. You can also make jam from them! If you suffer from mild food poisoning and are absolutely sure of your diagnosis, you can use them as a purgative.

 On I wandered through the darkening woods, still in their green dress. Ever so powerful, this tree grew through this pitchfork. The tree survived. The pitchfork is falling prey to the tooth of time, and its rusty colour is becoming more and more becoming a part of the fallen leaves in colour and substance to give nourishment to all those creatures of the underground dwelling on the decay of the living.

 Few if any consider that the mushrooming part of the mycelium is but the smallest part.

 Deep down in the darkness there dwells the root, and the human soul mirrors the sprouting mushrooms, in that mind and body are but protrusions of that which lies submerged...

 And thusly I wandered, deeper into the woods, where man does not tread. In stealth I went, barefoot and calm, into a realm where light is dim and strange the sounds that reach our ear. Here there is no modern man, and even the most civilized human being realizes with fear and terror that his well-mended world is but a surface embellishment. Reality there thrives violently and without mercy, and cares not for human care nor value.

 But paths there are for those who dare to tread them.

 And light there is, ever so much brighter in the dark.

 For woods come to a clearing, and there is rest... I sat down and had a cuppa tea and whittled some shavings and did some stumpsitting...

Near my resting place I came across this little caterpillar. Don´t know what it is or what it´s called, but beautiful it was.

 And a wasp spider building its net, weaving artfully and beautifully - the death of its prey. Such is nature: Beautiful and wicked at the same time...

 I came to the foot of the hills when the light drew to a close, and I ventured farther into the murky woods...

 Sloe (prunus spinoza, in German: Schlehe). I collected some for gin and jam...

 ´shrooms!!!! Bay boletus and boletus in fact, and quite some impressive ones... I took several home to dry. I use to dry them with a dousing of salt and some herbs. That way you have a great instant mushroom soup....;-)

I arrived upon the hill at dusk.

And while I waited for the bus my mind was racing brim full with the experience. I find it becomes harder to adapt to this funny postmodern society the more I venture into the twilight. But, this question remains to be asked: Which is more important?

Introduction of a rugged bushcraft knife with a somewhat tactical pedigree

 Now this is not quite common for me. I don´t like tactical knives at all. I simply cannot relate to the idea of carrying a knife that is nothing but a weapon. Any knife can be a weapon, don´t get me wrong, but I do not want to think about that nonsense of "sneaking up to sentinels" or "winning a knife fight". Noone wins a knife fight. Both contrahents will bleed, and chance is, both will die from their injuries. If you get assaulted, you will instinctively use what you can lay hands on in the instant, be it a rock, a piece of clothing, your hands, legs, feet, or, if you so want, a knife, apillow or a handkerchief. If a knife is at hand, and you ARE in lethal danger, your instict will of course make use of it. The romantiscism of being a soldier somehow fails to appeal to me;-). However, many tactical designs are just plain good or even great, and when I got the opportunity to review this Enforcer hunting knife, I just dug it. My excuses for the lousy pics, I have to fiddle with the new old camera still... The knife comes in a relatively good Cordura sheath. The blade is Chinese made from 8CrMoV steel, which is but a tiny notch below 440C with a carbon content of 0,80% but with much the same content of Chromium, Molybdenum and Vanadium. It claims to be tempered to 58HRC, and, having tested it as I commonly test knives;-) I can safely say it gets the job done. It´s hard enough and flexible enough and makes for a tough knife.

 The scales are G-10 with a cleanly made bead-blasted finish, and screwed on with nicely made and finished Torx head screws. The handle is big and chunky and could do with some ergonomic features, but as is, it works well enough. It reminds one a bit of the Ontario RAT-3 handle design.

 It´s a bit unusual for me that the blade has this finger notch and the centre of gravity is far back. I personally like to have an edge that goes all the way up to the handle for more power when carving and more control. But this design has obvious advantages. This knife is a legal carry at 100 mm length, but, BOY, does it chop and split wood! The spine is a monstrous 7mm thick. Due to the wide blade with a high flat grind, it´s an able slicer, though. The blade came hair poppingly sharp out of the box and made short terms with kitchen tasks as well as batoning.

 There´s a piece of the tang protruding out of the scales as a glassbreaker, and serving double duty as a lanyard hole. I could not test the glassbreaking ability, but it also opens beer bottles nicely...;-).

This knife is sold for 39,00€. For that little it´s a reliable companion with a great steel for the job, and it´s up to par with knives selling for ten times as much. It´s no wonder steel doing legendary things, but you can sharpen it without nuclear power tools. It takes a very keen edge (and holds it very well), cuts and chops and gets batoned and even pries well. The handle is comfortable enough, even if it could be better, but we are talking bargain basement here! The sheath is nothing to brag about, but make a new one or buy another, and this knife will serve you well for a long period of time. Take it out bushcrafting, hunting or even barbecueing, you name it, it does it. Just leave those sentinels alone, do you?*ggg*

On the bench-more steel!

 Currently there are a load of projects going on. The blades in the topmost picture are what we typically make at the Bethaus smithy on customer request, with a raw finish, a blade out of spring steel with a selective temper by edge-quenching, forged bolster / guard out of mild steel (file steel on request). They normally get a handle burned-to-fit and get peened over a copper buttcap. With those two, hot - punching the blade décor went a bit awry, so I kept them for myself.

 Top is a damascus Kopis with the squiggly bit;-) fallen off, so it will get some annealing and some new forging a squiggly bit. Next is a file steel blade that´s needing some forging still, and a Nessmuk and a hunting / steak knife out of ancient spring steel with a carbon content of about 0,75% and nothing else;-). Nessie´s already quenched (you can see the quench lines illustrating the technique quite well. For I always use a double quench technique. I heat the steel to the upmost part of the temperature window suitable for quenching. I wait until it is cooled in the air a bit and just right for quenching (you can use a magnet if you want to be sure). I quench the edge part very conservatively. When the temperature is coming down further to a dull red colour I put it in further. It is crucial that this part still isn´t magnetic! Then I take it out, while the spine still has some heat. I remove the scale and oil with a wet wire brush. When the edge part achieves a golden colour with cutting knives and a blue colour with cleaving knives, I put it in the oil to cool down. I then take a file and run it along the edge. It can have some grip, but must not bite, if that makes any sense. If it slides off completely, I use the heat radiance from the forge to bring down the hardness some more to enhance elasticity. After cooling down again, I repeat the file test and allow it to rest some. I then slam the edge against the edge of the anvil. It must not dent too much, best it shouldn´t dent at all. Then it has to carve iron rods. Next in line is a test of elasticity and shock resistance: I slam the flat blade over the horn of the anvil. If it breaks, it breaks. The next test is levering up a 30 kg anvil. If it survives all that, it´s ready to rumble;-). I will then remove any nicks or dents and put an edge to it. It has to cut paper in the least. Then I like to chop at least ten times into hardwood or antler to test the edge-holding capacity. Another good test is carving hardwood from the broad side. It has to stand up to those tests also and at least cut "any which way";-) through paper.

A positive example of a Turkish Reforestation program

I only but recently had the privilege to talk to Mr. Ömer Adigüzel from Gömürgen help organization. The organization primarily raises funds to help with reforestation of a Turkish savannah region which formerly was green, but by land exploitation suffered ecological crisis. Check out their homepage for more info:

http://www.goemuergen.de/?lang=en

Take a look, and if you feel so inclined, support them...

Poems anybody;-) - Three thorns of Blackthorn song (in German and English)

Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn

Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n...
Auf dem Hügel alt,
Wo kalte Winde weh´n.

Die Haare offen,
Die Füße bloß,
So tanztest Du
Auf der Erde warmem Schoß.

Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n,
Auf dem Hügel alt,
Wo kalt die Winde weh ´n.

Die Erde leidet
Unter ihrem Schritt,
Sie gehen unter
Und reißen alles mit.

In ihren Garten säen sie
Eine Saat aus Blei,
Und sie töten alles,
Was noch wild und frei.

Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n...
Auf dem Hügel alt, wo kalte Winde weh´n.

Ich singe eine Dornenhecke
Um dieses kleine Lied,
Um diese Saat, und Eisenkette
Füg ich Glied an Glied.

Ich singe eine Eiche,
Bewacher des Portals,
Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn,
Und ein Lied aus Stahl,
Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn,
Und Klinge kalten Stahls.

Ich singe Dir ein Schild,
Ich singe Felsgebein,
Tanze frei und wild
Unter dem Mondlichtschein.

Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n,
Auf dem Hügel alt
Unter den Sternen steh´n.

Die Haare offen,
Die Füße bloß,
Deine Augen blickten
In Sternenweiten fern;
Und auf Deiner Stirne
Und in Deinem Schoß,
Dort leuchtet hell ein Stern.

Three thorns of blackthorn (word by word-translation, might be a song will follow)

They observed you,
They have seen you
On an ancient hill
Where cold winds blow.

Your locks were free,
Your feet were bare,
As you danced
On the Earth´s warm bosom.

They observed you,
They have seen you,
On an ancient hill
Where cold winds blow.

The Earth it suffers
Under their pounding step
They are falling,
With them they tear down all.

In their garden
They sow a leaden seed,
And they kill
All things wild and free.

They have observed you,
They have seen you,
On an ancient hill,
Where cold winds blow.

I sing a hedge of blackthorn
Around this little song,
Around this seed, and iron chain
I mend link to link.

I sing an oak, 
The guardian of the door,
Three thorns of blackthorn,
And a song of steel,
Three thorns of blackthorn,
And a blade of steel.

I sing for thee a shield,
A rock to build upon,
Dance so free and wild
Under the ancient moon.

They have seen you,
They did observe
You standing under stars
And your look it wandered far away.

Your locks were free,
Your feet were bare,
And on your brow
And in your bosom
Brightly burns a star.

On the bench these days... Wootz / Bulat-blades from steel I found in the woods

 I can tell you, I nearly fell on my south, when I learned the "crap steel" I found in the woods actually was refined Wootz! In the etch you can see the characteristical carbide distribution...Click here for a scientific article on Wootz / Bulat / Pulad steel.

 Even if it were not this kind of steel, there´s be no harm done, for it makes for a blade that wickedly sharp and holds an edge very well. Okay, so it got some dents, when I slammed it full bore into an iron rod, especially to the rear, where it did not hit the tempering concoction fast enough, but no harm done... when´s the last time you used a knife to chop through iron rods?;-)

 I fitted a stag antler handle that´s currently being tanned.

 The spine´s rather thick at 5mm, the blade´s 95 mm long. I love the Kopis design, for it makes for a smooth cutting motion!

 And my hadseax is there, finally, and talk of being snobbish, the damascus is of ancient file steel and Wootz steel... as I have learned now. It is wickedly sharp, flexible and boy, I simply love it.

 If you look closely you can see hints of the wootz structure in the layers.

 Okay, I have to remove that glue;-)!!!

The blade´s 105 mm long and 3,2 mm thick, has a high convex bevel with a very slight curve. The handle is bog oak from an old mine with a lovely burgundy colour. Fitting and bolster are brass, the white piece is reindeer antler that will see some carving. Watch this space, I am back...!(that a threat?);-)

News from the shop and the deep, deep woods...

 Long time, no post, and a load of things that have happened. Suffice to say, life´s not getting easier, but I refuse to give up;-). Something very great first, however: It was not a week after Willy and the magic troll learned my camera had gone the way of all earthly things that they both respectively gave me a camera they had to spare. No high-end pictures, but pictures you´ll get, first from projects going on. Topmost is the new Nessmuk I started some time ago, fitted with ramshorn scales. Spring steel, selective temper and scales I am a bit disappointed of, for they are looking a bit crappy still. Then a knife I am very fond of, a danascus from ancient file and crucible steel. Brass, reindeer antler, yew from the old garden of my old home, and a copper buttcap. You can see the quench line very distictively and the blade, even with a rather thick convex bevel, is hair-poppingly sharp.

 Then a fully integral compact bush knife proto with a tempered buttcap that can be used to hammer nails home (which I tested;-)) and a thick tang that even without scales can be used with no harm to your hands. The blade supports my weight;-). It´s made from spring steel with a selective temper. The tang is drilled out to achieve a better balance. Guess it will get some stag scales or something like that...

Next in line is an integral Kopis/En-Nep out of crucible steel I found in the woods. Not tempered yet, I am still about on the finish. By the way, I have, except for drilling, used no power tools.

 "Found in Myrk´s wood";-), another integral loosely modeled after a German hunting knife. I am really fond of it, crucible steel from the woods again, 90x4mm, burned stag antler, riveted against a brass buttcap. The handle will see a carving, maybe of an eagle owl, which is of some spiritual significance to me.

 Then I made a lanyard mojo for rún iarann, an EDC utility knife out of Zwissler damascus, tank cannon and tank bearing steel, and bog oak with a burgundy colour. Silver, agate, brass, and a merlin´s tail feather.

Talking of "Myrk´s wood", you asked for it, and here it comes: Another unlikely Fimbulmyrk tale:

Last week I was completely burned out from work, work and more hard work, deaths in my family, a distance relationship, no resources at all, and having no actual perspective in the so- called "real world", you know, the one that destroys nature for money, toodles and plays around with genetics, bionics and warfare and generally knows no god but the ego... coming to think of it, it in itself has no perspective, but you know what I mean.

So, what to do?

Off with me into the deepest woods I could find. Searching for counsil and comfort by the trees and the spirits. It wasn´t long into the hike that I realized buzzards were circling ahead, some five or so, crying madly as I have never heard before. Following them I ventuered ever deeper into the woods. There it was I found a buzzard´s skull, and paying my respect, I took it with me.

Now I am currently researching the local legends about the elven or dwarven king Goldemar / Volmar, the mythical builder of Volmarstein castle and counsellor of Neveling of Hardenberg, lord of Hardenstein castle, a trickster and a mythical figure presumeably dating back to an older local deity. At one point I had a strong vision, when I encountered a herd of roe deer, a HUGE one, in fact, with some twenty roe deer all in all, heading into my direction. I then imagined rather savagely looking dwarves with features more "trollish" than anything, led by one dwarf with an antlered crown of brambles, blackthorn, and ivy riding on their backs. Vivid imagination can do that to you, yap*ggg*, and it is a rather adventurous way to become a part of the myth yourself. Of course, it is difficult to keep your feet on the ground afterwards, but, to be honest, what would I win if I did so? Wading in the muck? So, I have decided long ago, I´d rather have an interesting and somewhat psychologically dangerous life than none at all wading through the swamp that others created for me to live in. When out now in the woods, where he might as well have been sighted, too, as a local legend of the "Hünenpforte" might hint to, I was in a pensive mood about all those stories and tales of old, and I thought about the wanderer, coming from Schwelm and meeting a dwarf (king?) there, providing him with a fox as a guide through the underground to the giant´s passageway in Hohenlimburg. This is another story which I have told here.But as I wandered in a mood of contemplation and fancy, there it lay, half submerged in the rotten leaves of an autumn gone by, autumn itself in its waning paleness: The skull of a fox. It was a shock, for the outside and the inside world melted into each other, and, I cannot tell it any other way, the otherworld opened for me. I therefore do not exactly know;-) if this was a vision, but the next shock was about to come: A giant boar, with bristles as hard and strong that "an apple might stay stuck upon them" passed along a ridge of the terrain, as real as it can be, but with something more about it. If I have to explain this, I will never succeed, if you understand this, I don´t have to explain anything. Okay, I said, laughing at myself, while I was staying where I was (you do not want to cross a boar in autumn, do you? Not with an at least adequate weapon at hand...;-)), and payed him my respect mentally. All the while the buzzards were still crying madly above. When Mr. boar had gone on his merry way, I went on mine, following the cries above. Even deeper in the woods I found another treasure; as I rounded a callused spruce tree and climbed over a fallen beech that had sprouted new trunks from the fallen stem, I came to a very peaceful place. There a spring rose from a meadow, and above there stood an ancient hazel tree. Into the trickling creek it threw its fruits, green and nourishing. And the water flowed on endlessly, for joy of being and for the fruits of the hazel of fine mast falling into it. It was a place of great peace and comfort. It felt like home, I cannot tell it any other way, and there I rested in meditation, and the hours just flowed, but I did not notice. I realized that I had somehow fallen out of time there, when I learned it was becoming quite late already. But I simply walked on afterwards, following the trail of deer and the trail of my myth within... the story that dwells and thrives in all of us, the dragon that we all could ride - if we dared. This dragon is wild and savage, too, it´s not all light, but sometimes very dark. It can bite our head off in a flash, but we are able still to make our peace with it. We the can thrive as a dragon, and the fire in our spines will carry us over the storm-ridden skies into a golden dawn, where we can find words to create ourselves, to invent our life. Thus was the path into the green, into the twilight wood, the realm, where the one with the antlered crown walks, hunter and prey at the same time, the goddess´ strong-horned consort... thinking this, I was actually not surprised to find a piece of a roe - deer´s skull with a piece of antler on it.

Oh yes, I returned to civilization. I took the bus, and bought a beer, and some junk food. But my imagination has run wild, and I´m aware and proud of it. It is hard to regain your composure afterwards. It is always an act of balance, and chance is, you can get mad by being as I am. Maybe I am mad, but I have not done harm to anyone, and won´t, if I do not have to at all.

But it´s better to be mad than a moron.;-)

News from a bum´s life;-) of posting no photos, mobbing, chaos and friendship.

So, the Fimbulmyrk fanclub ;-) encouraged me to write with no photos. You begged for it, and here it is;-): a post with no photos whatsoever. My life has taken at least one turn of great significance to me, and several other minor changes. I thought I´d just drop you a line, and there´s a story to be told.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, when I was just a kid, my father forged a knife with me, in the shop of his employer. It was a mild steel trench knife with a hunting knife pedigree with a work-hardened and slightly carbonized edge. I was seven then, and of course he let me do some of the minor forging. He used a gas burner for heating, and while he wasn´t overly precise (as I can now say;-)), the knife worked well enough for me then. It was certainly no wonder of edge retention, but worked surprisingly well, and he taught me to work-harden the edge. It was the start to a career of cold-forging every tiny bit of steel I could lie my hands on, mild steel, tool steel, even copper, brass and aluminum were hammered into the shape of a blade (that boy´s got a problem;-)), some extremely ugly, some just merely ugly. Then I experimented with tempering with no tutoring at all and nearly blew the house up;-) with the gas torch, but somehow managed to keep myself and the family alive. All through my life there was one or the other form of blacksmithing involved, woodworking, woodcarving and even carpentery. Then I really got serious about bladesmithing, and built up a dirt forge in the garden, working with charcoal, an old barbecue and a modified vacuum cleaner, a sledge for an anvil, and an old locksmith´s hammer and some makeshift tongs. I forged my first decent knives from file, chisel and spring steel crap, and it went surprisingly well. The knives I made certainly were no marvels of bladesmithing, but some of them I still use hard, and they stand up to it. It was then that I questioned many things in my life, and that led up to trying to make as much of my gear myself as I could, which even led to making my own charcoal. Living in an old house in the woods with plenty of space on the property, that was no problem. It was then that I started to work for museums, and there it was that I became acquainted to Harald, who soon became a tutor of mine. Harald taught me a lot about blacksmithing, and became a friend. When Harald quitted work at the museum, he built up a business for himself, and started to work at the Krenzer smithy, and there I became acquainted to Matthias, a damascus bladesmith and archaeometallurgist, known to many as one of the smiths of the biggest damascus billet in history (2,4to of 15N20, 1.2842 and C75Ni also known as "monster" damascus), beside Achim Wirtz and Norbert Bahls. It was then, by coincidence, that he learned I had tried my first welds with the dirt forge, and offered me to freely experiment in his smithy. Looking back, I must say this was a blacksmith´s apprentice´s paradise. Damascus, Mokume Gane, a very good Danish belt grinder, and even a Beché air power hammer, mind you, the real stuff. I made huge progress in these days, and I really got the bug bad. Whenever I could I forged, either with the wild dirt forge or Matthias´gas forge or Harald´s coke forge. I was right obsessed!;-) I used to drop by the smithy, and we did some forging, I helped them with their projects, and they gave valuable input on my forging. Often, others were there, and we had a ball together. Frank, Vera, Achim, Norbert, I got to know a lot of quality people and we met as strangers and parted as friends. Blacksmithing does that for you.

But all was not grand in wonderland. Harald and Matthias encountered personal problems both, and I have to say it was not entirely their fault, but both were mobbed by the smithy´s owner´s wife. Not that they were easy to live with, mind you. But a fact´s a fact. First Harald quit his business again to work for a tool company in Remscheid, and then Matthias quit the place, too. Meanwhile, I got to know Willy, that old bastard;-) better, and we tried to keep a tutoring smithy at Krenzer´s. Matthias, however, moved on to the industrial museum Ennepetal, and we were welcome at his smithy. We met each Friday at 3 p.m. to do some tutoring with young adults and having a ball. Of course, we tried to help out at the smithy best we could. I remember cleaning a toilet that had not seen cleaning for 30 years; quite a fascinating experience, I can tell you, and, having been offered payment, I gladly accepted... turned out the payment for 10 hours work was a blacksmithing tongs, equal in value to 14.99€. Quite the salary, but no harm done, I did it for the smithy.

It was round about that time that the mobbing started on us, too. The owners are Christians of a protestant sect, and we are not. We had never said any unrespectful word, however. When invited for dinner, I even spoke my own version of table prayer, in a socially acceptable manner, and it was hard not to compromise too much on my own belief. Out of respect I did this, but respect must not necessarily be returned. It simply would not fit either party any more, so we quit, too. We did not leave in anger, and we still help out from time to time. It´s a good idea and a great location, and we, for one, know how to set aside personal quarrells for the greater good.

Off to Matthias´smithy, then. It was a great time again, and we had a lot of fun together, even if he sometimes was a bit over the top... we learned afterwards his parents were being severely sick. Matthias was caring for them, and, them residing in the South of Germany, had to travel a lot and had his head elsewhere often. I daresay we got on his nerves one time or the other... but we simply did not know. Anyway, Matthias, too, quit his bladesmithing business, and gave away most of his smithy to his friends and apprentices. He left us the gas forge, 1,5 tons of steel, the anvils, and all there was left in the smithy. This was in 2007, and we started working for the industrial museum on a regular basis. Each month of the season we were there on the first Sunday, and many of them I have featured in this blog. It was our turn now to open up our own smithy. We brought in our own stuff, we had a hammer - In with a load of different people. From all over Germany they came to have a look at us and do some forging. Rolf, Siegfried, Bastian, Mauro, Kai, Nick, Volker, Marcel and his kids, the big and the small Daniels, too many people to mention them all, came and we forged together. We had  a great time indeed, and I daresay we were a right attraction for the museum, for even people from Bavaria and Hessen, from the Netherlands and Luxembourg, Austria and Czechia came because they had heard of and from us. And out of respect we worked there. For free. We paid the gas, it was our steel we processed, our time and money, our tools and our networking.

Out of respect we did that.

Turns out that respect is not necessarily to be returned, and "do what you will, but do not harm anyone" is a motto not everyone can understand.

I have to say I have a strong suspicion we got mobbed out. When we were there in July, we were looking forward to another great Sunday of working hard and having fun with fire and steel.BUMMER! The gas bottle we had thoroughly made sure it contained enough gas to forge in June, was empty, and carefully re-installed as to pretend it was full. But empty it was, so no forging at all.

This was the moment Rainer came in. Now Rainer certainly´s no bad guy, and a good enough person to boot, and it certainly was not his fault, and I hope we made sure of that. But Willy looked at me, and I at Willy, and we said in unison: "That´s it. We quit." Enough is enough, I daresay.

I then went to Volker and asked him if he´d care to have us, and he gladly accepted and even organized a place for bigger events. The rest is told quite shortly: I made some phone calls, sent some sms, Volker lent me his car, Willy came with his and Daniel with his, we met at the smithy and got our act together. We were even able to joke, and, while it was hard and sorry work cleaning up, we made it a good time. Many of the museum staff said they regretted we had to go.

I think I have made clear why this was an important step for me, and an important experience. There are people talking a lot, asking a lot, and doing nothing, or worse.

But there are always people you can rely on. People not necessarily with a defined belief or attitude. But people that are straight and true. I have found from my experience, that a lot of those I know are bladesmiths. I just want to thank them. It´s great to have you around!

Oh, and how does the story end?

We brought the smithy to the Bethaus, where it´s now stored, and the Sunday after we had a hammer - In and a barbecueing session. It was great fun and tasty food and some working with kids.

Handforging speaks louder!;-) 

It´s been a long time...;-)

... since you read something substantial in this blog. Not because nothing has happened, that much is safe to say, but for various reasons. One is that my camera is wrecked and I do not want to bore you with endless texts (okay, I actually DO want that, but don´t tell anyone). Another one is that I am currently over the top with things to organize: I train the beginners of our mountainbike club again, work for the city marketing and the smithy, and have to clear a smithy and build up a new one. And then I have to travel quite a bit to see the person I love most in this world... so much to do!

But as soon as I got a new camera, you can look forward to some new projects and news on this blog at least next month. PROMISE!!!;-) So, just stay linked, and look forward to some strange humour, raw work, bushcraft, poems, recipes, rants, and hard riding soon!

After work bimble into the green, green woods...

 On Tuesday I had to decompress somewhat. I am currently having a very tight schedule, and it starts to wear me out a bit, but it´s all my fault really. And what to do? RIGHT! Get out of town and simply have some rest for my soul. It always works. The sun was not exactly shining, but glaring with a strange and milky light, and alongside a grain field I trod my path into the green twilight looming ahead.

 The grass was growing wildly, and on the banks of the nearly unintelligible path grew plantain, woundwort, chamomile, common yarrow, sorrel and many more. I could have filled my pack, but there is still so much left from last year that I do not need any at the moment. So I simply stopped and took in the lovely colours and the air of a flourishing nature, even if this year seems to be a bad one for the harvest.

 I have thought about telling you of the properties of those plants again, but I thought about it and came to aconclusion: So much we do is just because someone or something has properties and is good for this or that. I have done so in other posts, and you can refer to those, but I realized I simply wanted not to forget the beauty behind it all. The beauty of the plant itself, just growing there and being there, not for me, but just being.

 I am grateful that the woods are there, the flowers grow, and the deer chant in the twilight. I am grateful for the fox, and for the hare. Just because they are. Of course, I love to find something, and I like to have a tea, or find a bone for a knife handle, or even some antler. I would hunt for food, of course, and maybe some day I can afford a hunting license and a decent gun, or maybe, when all breaks down, use a sling, spear and bow and arrow. I practice their use after all.  But that´s not all. Everything being is not being there exclusively for our use. We can make use from it, but we have to learn, and especially western civilization has to, that there is a very delicate balance in it all. This can have a soothing effect; we are not the centre of the universe. We are beings like the deer, like fox and hare and bird, a part of it all, and maybe we could still fulfill our part. Of course, we are the most aggressive raptor on earth, but even we could still have a place.

 Deeper into the woods I went, and stillness came over me with every step I took, with the sound of the songs of birds, of creek and stream and the gentle rustling of the wind in the leaves.

 Beside the stream I sat on a rock and simply listened to the song of the water, the voice that constantly murmurs without a message I could understand, but tales it told nonetheless from and of the circles of life and death, of rebirth and growing. Of tales of fancy and imagination as well as of life and death, of fights and defeats and survival. Above me flew my friend, the bussard, and uttered his cries that are so full of yearning and hunger, not only the concrete hunger, but also a sensation of flight and gravity, of force and power, and freedom in the playing of the forces. The creek sang its song of the water, and the earth thrummed with a deep sonore hum that few can hear, but the song of the soil is there, if you live and listen intently. Then some day you might hear it and listen in awe... and there will be nothing gained or lost by it, but being.

When my bimble came towards an end, I found this gift not given from a friend that is not a friend.

And home I went, into the enmeshments and involvements that harass our everyday life, but with a deep breath thrumming in me.

Just being alive.

Schedule change on the upcoming blacksmithing events

I was informed by Volker that the schedule of the upcoming blacksmithing events has to be changed.

The summer fair at the Bethaus smithy will now take place on

13. and 14th of July.

On 6th of July I will be at the Bethaus smithy also, but only on a regular basis. Come over, get a coffee cheap and have a chat!

The Hammer - In on 7th of July at the industrial museum is not touched by this change, as well as my presence on the highland games in Wuppertal!

New blogs on the roll

I stumbled across some new blogs to follow, which might be of interest to all you bushcrafters out there. Having read the book by Eric  Valli: Rencontres hors du temps, which inspired me in a BIG way, I came across Lynx´ site and blog. Now Lynx certainly is what qualifies as a "wild woman of the woods", extremely skilled and close to the song of nature. This here is her blog:

http://www.lynxvilden.com/p/blog.html


A bit different is Gerd´s blog. Gerd is a tribal knifemaker from Germany I have the privilege to be acquainted to now. He makes some knives that are really appealing to me, and I look forward to meet in person and maybe have a ball with fire and steel together:

http://gmomesser.wordpress.com/

is his blog. He makes wire damascus and traditional damascus as well as spring steel knives and loves to recycle and reuse valuable materials to create beautiful tools.

DeNOOBing ourselves-Technical training in the rock garden

 On Monday evening it was that time of the week again... a rookie and even some experienced riders came together beneath the legendary sculpture of the whirlwind brides and the sun in the "Felsengarten" Hagen (the rock garden). We exchanged some friendly talk, and then it was "shred mode on". We did some static and dynamic off-bike muscular exercises to warm up, and then we did some riding exercises.

 The defined surrounding of the location is ideal for beginners to slowly and controlledly try out bigger tasks. I had shown Andrea to ride a staircase and stopping on it, balancing on the staircase, beforehand, and she did it very well. I had made a schedule for the training, but only Andrea showed up who needed tutoring, and she already was farther than I intended the program, so we did something else: I tutored her how to lift front and rear wheel, which  ultimately led to her first bunny hop.

 Andrea also rode the stair up and learned how to lift the rear wheel out of harm´s way.

 Soon the formal training part was over, and we simply did some shredding, having fun with the unusual architecture. By the way, it was Hartwig, the father of my ex - girl - friend and all-time-best friend Anna, who designed part of it all as an ARRRchitect.;-) Thanks, Hartwig, those rollers are greatly appreciated!;-)

 This is Bear Lee catching some air. We were actually quite finished, even if riding on one spot only, but the exercises fatigue you out quite soon, especially the jumping, turning in the air, hopping and the like wear you out fast, for there´s a big amount of body tension involved. Bear Lee had been sick the whole week, and this was his first time riding. He did extremely well for that!

 I was most pleased to meet Toto again. Toto´s a really laidback and friendly guy, a competition pistol shooter, and I learned he broke the German record with the ordonnance pistol. Congratulations on that! he has a calm and friendly air about him and is always ready to help weaker riders. He knows quite a bit on pharmaceutics, medicine and anatomy, too, and his knowledge of the martial arts is frightening!;-)

Being older and having seen his share of events, both good and extremely bad in his life, he has always offered me valuable counsil, and I value his opinion above many others. Thanks, Toto!

 And, if you keep in mind, he misses half  a biceps on one side and a shoulder blade on the other which he somehow lost ;-) in a frightening crash at a downhill race, and his body is mincemeat due to ...wait.. is that twenty years???... of hardcore riding, it is a right miracle that guy rides the way he does!

We had a lot of fun, the weather kept stable for a change, we had some great chats and the right balance of jokes, mischief and serious and interesting conversation, and, last but in no way least, we did some serious shredding and gained much more self-confidence and riding skills.

Thank you, folks, it was a great evening!

Children´s birthday party at the Bethaus smithy - and the birth of a Nessie

 Hope I am not getting on your nerves;-), for this is another children´s birthday party post, and, while they tend to look all the same, and chance is, they do for onlookers, rest assured, there is no one alike the other one. It´s often kids that tend to be motorically impaired (But being tauted as "normal". Many so-called handicapped persons tend to be more capable than average "normal" kids.) Many of them arrive drugged with Ritalin or the like, and if they don´t, you usually have a problem. (Kai-Torben, NO! You WON´t stick your finger into the forge, Kevin- Dennis, NO! Do NOT poke Dennis-Kevin´s eye out with that bar of steel!*ggg* Schankktal-Schakkeline, put that knife away, you WON´t cut your forearm again...;-))

It´s often arduous work, but this time it has been a right pleasure. The kids were accompagnied by parents who actually had fun organizing the event for the kids, the kids had fun playing games (playing games! Remember that time when children actually used to play actual games? Not sitting paralyzed before the great one-eyed snake box?), the adults had fun playing games with the kids, they were actually around and seemed to enjoy themselves because the kids did. Okay, I admit it... they bribed me into writing this by offering chocolate brownie cookies;-), but me, being above being bribed, declined;-), while Volker gladly accepted, that old sweet-tooth;-).

 It was a very relaxed atmosphere. That was not to say there was no work to be done! But the kids being creative, capable of concentrating, and enjoying themselves, it was real fun. The adults, however, were laid-back and friendly people. Perfect!

 Here Volker putting the kids´ tools on the desk...blimey, that guy was moving so fast, the picture is blurred! Even with this high - end, completely functional *g*camera, I did not manage to get the picture right!*ggg* Imagine that!*ggg*

 Here Volker explains the history of the Bethaus. The miner´s chapel house was built in 1830 as a meeting point of miners before their shift, and was the site of a miner´s worship of St. Barbara, the patroness of miner´s, smelters, artillerymen, and black- and weaponsmiths. Before the shift, miners came together for a prayer to the saint for a happy return. A great and amtospherically dense novel to transport the terror of the subterranean, but also the hope for riches and prosperity the miners were confronted with in those days is "The Mines Of Falun" (Die Bergwerke zu Falun) by E.T.A. Hoffmann.

After the shift, the miners hopefully returned to have their tools repaired for the next day. For that purpose, there always had been a smithy at the chapel, too. There picks, shovels and hammers were repaired or made anew, later on the chisels of power hammers and other power tools were repaired. And the best thing about all that is - we still do that!;-) The kids were enthused to be smith´s apprentices, and we did our best to let the old times revive for them, even our skills still are not up to par to those of those ancient miner´s blacksmiths. But that´s not our purpose in the first.

 We are here to let the kids have some fun and to keep the flame burning.

 The kids were enthusiastic about the work, and many of them took a great deal of time polishing their works. We made pendants, snakes, small knifelookalikes;-) from mild steel which I tried to work-harden by coldforging. A bit hard on the ears, and I fear my hearing is already impaired a bit... blimey, have to get some ear plugs... but it´s hard to communicate with the kids when you wear plugs.

 And yes, it´s pictures like this that keep me going, even when it´s sometimes tough. It simply feels good to pass on the enthusiasm for the next generation.

Let me give a more personal take on that. We live in a very, very strange and estranged world. We tend to blabber about freedom all the time, and when we get it, we use it to simply kill time and refine our boredom. We are not free, for we work to earn money we believe we need, because we believe we need a fifth laptop or the latest smartphone, a third car or, yap, a fifth mountainbike or surfboard. Mountainbiking is a great example. Many of the people I know who ride mountainbikes call themselves "freeriders". To do this sport, you need at least 1.500 € worth of bike, plus some 700€ worth of equipment, protection, gear, clothing, and you have to spend at least 1.400€ worth on holidays. Maybe a bit exaggerated, for most of the people I know would not be able to afford this,  but that´s what the magazines keep telling you. All this you "need" to ride free. To ride "free", a person with an income not exactly middle management thusly would have to work 1-3 months just for the tools of the trade;-) and a holiday. I therefore very much doubt that he or she then is "free". We are told so, but we are not. The examples are legion. You can be free by buying deodorants, insurances, cigarettes. Interestingly I read an ad about a deodorant named "obsession"  that transported the message of freedom some years ago, which is outright ridiculous in my book.

But then, how can one be free? Is there anything like freedom?

I have a maxim I try to live by: "As long as I do not harm anyone and the world benefits from it in any way, I do whatever I want." This is sometimes very, very hard, for the world generally does not care a runny shit about me or anyone else doing anything for its benefit, for its surface is designed by mammonists. Those are glad if anyone does anything "for free", for he or she can be exploited much easier that way. You do not get any money equals you cannot buy symbols of status equals you have no status. But we are talking surface here. I learned for myself, that in-depth, the world is a beautiful place. If you do not value money that much, if you simply regard it as a tool, not a toy, there is much to discover; a flower growing through the concrete, the grain of some burly wood, the pattern of damascus steel. Your own body, aside from the advertisment-hysteria and the beauty- and wellness-hype. Your power, of body, mind and soul. The beauty and terror of the actual world. The terror and greatness and the overwhelming beauty of actual life.

Blacksmithing has done one thing for me: It made me realize I could shape my own world. From junk and scrap and ashes I have learned, the hard way sometimes, to shape whatever I desire, or at least, to be capable of learning it-potentially at least. It means, while I often have a tight schedule with little or no room for toodling about, and sometimes work 70 h a week with an income that´s not worth mentioning and amounts to 30 % less than the minimum dole would sum up to, I have a freedom that I need for the sanity of my soul. I might not be the best of blacksmiths, but a blacksmith I am.

But what does that mean? In Volundar - saga it is said that Wayland the smith was taken captive by some king named Nidung. He cut his tendons to keep him captive and demanded he forged for him wondrous armour and weapons. Wayland escaped. He forged himself wings and flew away. In the bronze - age smiths of the Unetice culture are said to have had prince status. The metallurg was master of the elements, and legend has it he or she was also master of fate. Smiths have made this world, and those who know this blog know that there lays a hope for me, for the world has gone mad and false.

Genetic manipulation is not evil, but we simply do not understand enough of the whole to do it-and yet, corporations like Monsanto monopolize on bringing out manipulated seeds on the market, and there are little options left for the common man. There only but recently was an attempt to illegalize self- harvested seeds, even in private gardens. It might have been another attempt of corporations like Monsanto to get a monopol on victualies and seeds.
Capitalism is not evil, and it has secured peace for a long period of time. But it bears strange fruits. Ecologism is not evil, either, but to burn down acres of rainforest to plant rapeseed (genetically manipulized, of course), exclusively for CAR FUEL, while the inhabitants starve, is mad. Mammonism is not evil, either, if Mammon gets assigned his place in the pantheon he actually had ages ago. It´s all a system, and this system is the reason we not only cannot be free, but are subject to tyranny. But who are the tyrants? Can we hang them?

Bit difficult, could do that just if you feel so inclined to commit suicide. The enemy is within, within the gates. It´s us. We can´t escape.

Can´t we, really?

I used to buy a lot of knives and other tools in my time. I learned to forge, now I do not buy them anymore (that frequently, okay, I admit;-)). I had no money for a decent pair of reenactment shoes. I made them myself. While not exactly perfect, I wore them for one year and used them very hard, for I used them for hiking also, because they were just so comfy, now there´s a hole in one sole, but no harm done, I can repair that. I  wanted a Sarouel pants, and I made one. I want a kuksa... what will I do? I make my own mead, I brew my own birch sap beer, kwass and sloe champagne, cure my cough with herbs I collected, treat my wood with resin I found, drink my tea made from leaves I collected.

I am realistic: Not everyone can make his or her gear all by themselves. I can´t, myself. But that´s not the culprit. It´s not about making these things, but about understanding again THAT these are made in the first place. That they transport the time and energy put into them, that they rely on natural resources, and to understand that everything we claim has its consequences, and that our behaviour has consequences, too, and not because someone tells us so. It is easy to even work with difficult kids at the forge, because you can easily illustrate why one should obey the rules. They are made by iron, fire and water, not by the smith. 1.200 degrees Celsius will be dangerous, and anyone possessed of the ability to feel pain will recognize that without further ado.

The world will not be saved by that. We will still have to endure the consequences of the exploit we did to the planet, and chance is, few will survive the breakdown of western civilization that will come. We are in the middle of it, in fact. It´s not the punishment of God or the Gods. It´s just the consequences of our false behaviour. And it is a chance to learn how it´s done properly.

I hope that with my blacksmithing an tutoring, I achieve one thing: To get minds to think for themselves, if only one out of thousand. I might not be free, and I am not Wayland for sure, but I hope to one day look back on my life and to be able to say that it was okay.

That´s all I can say.

By the way, I just wanted a Nessmuk. Willy is doing these all of the time, and I did not want to stay off the back, so I made one from a piece of spring steel: 

 It came along quite nicely, done with a forge, tongs, hammer, two files and that´s it. I drilled two holes near the back of the tang for balance, but I might add more of them, depending on what scales to fit. I recently found a block of Pertinax in the woods, which looks very beautiful, but I learned it is toxic due to the Formaldehyde and Phenolic contents. Guess I´d rather get rid of it.... and fit some stag or ramshorn scales. We´ll see how it goes, but the choice of scales will have an influence on the drillings, for I like to have my centre of gravity on the index finger to make for more nimble handling of the knife. I also choose an edge line in line with the handle outline (does that make sense to you?;-))to make for more acurate carving ability and a somewhat milder S-form of the knife in general. Having played a lot with it already, I can say that I really like the feel of it, and as there´s still this ominous crane bag / ditty bag project on the bench for some, wait, is that two years??? I rather say, this might find its way in... but talk is cheap, and there are too many options as far as this bag is concerned, and I daresay I rather stitch this thing together any which way. I simply have too many ideas that in the end I follow none of them... so I guess I´ll rather put the rubber on the road soon. But, this knife first.;-) Or that cleaver. Or that bush knife, oh, and the damascus blades and and and...

Anyaway, I´ll keep you informed!