So the woods called out again, and more so, the song of steel was joining in; so I packed a hacksaw and made for the hills. Cold it was, but the sun came out, and I slowly trod my way up the hillside.
And as always, as the first trees embraced my stride, calm washed over my ravaged soul and soothed my pain.
Deeper yet I walked and higher I came. It was like a walkabout, to find a dream in a piece of steel lying in the woods for a hundred years.
The hills were radiant with a winter sun.
And the light woods faded into the twilight of spruce and fir. And while I like the radiant birch and the elegant beech and the strong oak, the shadow of the twilit spruce woods holds no terror for me, for I was born in a place like this and know its ways well.
The trail lay frozen, enchanted by a crystal veil.
The sun was already sinking when I reached the hilltop, embracing me with shadow.
Through the woods I trod, and there...
...behind a thicket of fallen trees and branches
...there it was that a secret of steel awaited me with its silent, violent song.
Those leaf springs from a forgotten chariot have a carbon content of about 0,75-0,90%.
And make an excellent Nessmuk...;-)
Old leaf spring steel, selective temper, with a hefty blade thickness at 7mm...12cm blade, elk antler scales, high convex bevel, mosaic pins.
And still slicey enough to make a delicious snack.
This knife now bears the soul of the woods, and it gives me more comfort than a run-of the-mill production knife ever could. This is the soul of Tribal knifemaking in my book.
Those are the adventures of Mr. Fimbulmyrk, in bushcraft and blacksmithing, mountainbiking and hiking, reenactment, writing, singing, dancing, stargazing and having a piece of cake and a coffee. Pray have a seat and look around you, but be warned - the forest´s twilight is ferocious at times.
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