Winter is coming ?

They say it. They urge us and nudge us, everywhere in the Media. 

They talk about the "hardest winter in the history of mankind". 

And this is obviously bullshit again. It is a lie. 

Of course, it may be very cold, at least over here in Germany. Because of high treason, but noone calls it that name. And to be honest, well, I do not care much any more, because I have shit to do. 

Of course, food will be scarce. The 'rona will reign supreme again. The storms will take down entire cities. 

But trust me, we will be fine. We will cope. If we stand together with the people who want the right thing. If we stop believing the lies. 

We are not superior to nature. We are part of it. 

There is no such thing as eternal growth, not even the eternal life they so much crave, while their idea of it is some kind of Zombie existence. 

Living is more or less dying eloquently. 

But there also is only one thing we say to the God of Death :Not today. 

Because today is summer. 

Because today we need to savour all the goodness. 

It is a secret and many secrets and none at all. It is a doe in the thicket. 

It is sitting on a hill carving away. 

It is raspberries and strawberries and wild plums and blackberries and herbs. And we need to take away the feeling and the scents and all that summery goodness as well as the berries and herbs and roots. We need to conserve the food as well as the feeling for the hard winter ahead. But please do not fall into the trap of the "Survival mindset". We will need that, do not get me wrong. But we will need fond memories and food that is actually tasty and good. Conserve your food with love and care. Take your time. If you think you don't have any time, well, you would be astonished how much time I waste on social media. And I don't have a TV. You can put that time to better use. Smell the roses, go foraging, keep some chicken or maybe even a goat. Work in the garden, go swimming, too. Dance naked in the woods and under the stars. 

Relish in all the fragrance and the wonderful colours. 

Have fun learning new skills. Make, don't buy, if you possibly can. 

Dream. 

 

Chicken of the woods

 I only but recently made a really welcome discovery. Long story short, that funghus in the picture is Laetiporous Sulphureus (chicken of the woods, in German Schwefelporling). It is a delicacy that tastes and feels a lot like chicken meat, so much in fact that I can really recommend it for anyone looking for a meat substitute. It grows in large quantities, and as with many other funghi, grows more abundant with the forest problems due to climate change. It grows in brackets up to 45 kg in weight. It can be dried and frozen and then keeps over long periods of time. It is reputed to have antibacterial properties. It can be used as a natural dye, too. I found mine in early summer, and dried some for my stock.

Short story long, I learned about it first... well, in a situation that might be called one of those Fimbulmyrk stories. 

First things first, I have that appointment with the local hunters, the bureau of forestry affairs and the landowner that I virtually can do anything I like (as long as it doesn't involve fire or any silly stunt such like in the local woods, an appointment I very much honour, respect and like, because, well, I would be in a bedlam if I could not sit in the woods the way I do. Deal is that I have a bit of a lookout after those woods precious to my heart, too, which I find self - evident. 

Now I was on a bimble, when I smelled something I do not want to smell at any time in the woods. 

Smoke. 

Looking around, I saw it rising from a thicket nearby. Actually I felt a bit relieved when I saw three people near it. 

Now, well, actually I think while not everyone should be permitted to have a fire in the woods, I also very much understand why someone would want one. And it is not the same if some ghetto kid sets the whole area on fire or an experienced woodsman makes her or himself a brew. Well, living in a shithole of a city, if you can even call it a city still, I very much had my fill of ghetto kids, and will bear the scars of telling some of them off all the rest of my life (they had to bear the consequences, too, of course, but I still do not like that), so I was less than enthused. 

Getting near the fire stealthily, but also trying not to look too threatening, but keeping my Shillelagh at the ready, I realized it was some elderly guy and two little girls. 

They had a pan sat on the small cooking fire, which was built very cunningly to be small but effective, and there was sort of a stew simmering away. 

I introduced myself, and it turned out they were Ukrainian refugees, two kids with their grandpa. They simply did not know it was prohibited in Germany to light a fire in the woods. With a lot of gestures, a translation App and more smiles and respect we agreed that they finished their cooking and then extinguished the fire. I agreed not to call anyone. 

Actually, we got into a really nice, if somewhat complicated conversation. It turned out the old fella was a very experienced woodsman (who sorely missed his home forest). The only German sentence he knew was "Ich kenne Pilze sehr" (I know mushrooms very), and I personally think someone with these priorities cannot be that bad a character. It also transpired that he simply forgot to bring salt and spice. Well, I was on my way to the old man (Fritz) and had a truckload of wild garlic in my backpack, and there were ground elder and ground ivy growing abundantly in the vicinity. I also had made a cutting board from elm just before the encounter, which I gifted to them.

It all ended that I made a spoon for myself and we all sat around the pan enjoying a delicious mushroom stew together.

I whittled some fast gypsy flowers and a heart for the girls, and they went arse over tit out of joy for it. We extinguished the fire together. When we parted, we hugged, even though we will most likely never meet again, as friends.

Message, by the way.

And that is the story of a new bit of knowledge I learned. Chicken of the woods. Tasted delicious, even without salt.

Next message, by the way. ☺️ 🤣 You might be able to find out yourselves. 

A spoon and a pouch

 I have been doing a lot of small bushcrafty projects lately. I find it is soothing to my mind to know how to create things out of nothing. 

Do not get me wrong - I know perfectly well all of the stuff I know is not relevant. I am just biding my time. I am waiting for death, nothing less, nothing more. No so - called "Survival skills" will save us. There are a lot of people knowing a lot more than myself. But all of us are inevitably doomed. The lunatics ruling us will make sure of that. Nuff said.

But how I spend the time until they finally pull the trigger, is none of their business, not yet.

Making things in the woods makes me happy. Of course they do not want anyone to be happy, so I try to be as happy as possible. Maybe this is childish, but I do not care. I do not do this against anyone, but for my soul. Just because I have the custom not to soil it with their swamp, if not because I believe in something greater. Something good. Who knows? It is not fashionable to believe in anything anymore, but I am an old fart, so I am entitled not to be fashionable. 

I made myself a spoon from elm wood. Actually I have fallen in love with this wood. I love the colours and the oxidation. I also tried my hand at some Kólrosing, which did not yet turn out too well, but could be much worse, so actually I really like the outcome.

The little pouch I just made to practice the technique. It is made from bramble splittings weaved together. After plaiting, I gave it a quick oiling to keep it flexible. I still have to learn a lot, and that is a very good thing, because it keeps my mind off things. 

The "Nessmuk" I made some years ago. It is made from spring steel with a selective quench and temper. Scales are desert iron wood with mosaic pins. It is a bit of a controversial knife, having a spine thickness of almost 9mm at the handle (albeit with a distal taper towards the tip). For the length it is a very able chopper, but it is also a very heavy knife. Having fallen in love with Moras again I find it stays at home more often than not. Actually it also cuts quite nicely, but it needs to get some getting accustomed to it, mainly when carrying is concerned, but still. It is a monster, and actually overbuilt for what I do these days.

Anyway, it still is a very good feeling to make things out of nothing, to be even able to do so, in these times, and doing it with tools you yourself made from junk noone cares a runny shit about. 

Message. ☺️ 

Salt flask WIP

In the woods I found me a piece of deer shank (taken with permission, of course) and thought I would make me a salt flask. I sawed off the joints with the saw of a Victorinox locksmith SAK. 

I fitted a piece of elm into the bottom, leaving it a tad longer to facilitate carving. Since it was fresh elm, make sure you really have to whack it in (you might want to wrap the bone really tightly with wire or cordage before, because it might split. If you possibly can, use dry wood for the bottom.

Glued it in with pitch glue. Carved a stopper from boxwood with tarred cordage for a seal. Carve a recession into it, fill that with tar, wax or glue and wrap the fibres or cordage around it while the glue is still hot. Let it cool, cutting off the excess cordage or fibres. 

Et voilà. 

Salt flask. ☺️ 

The decoration is made from charred elm bark in kólrosing technique. 

Now off to decorate that bone. ☺️ 

Insanity

 The title of the post is insanity.

You know perfectly well, why.

I do not need to go on lengthy about that. Because, well, who cannot relate to the fact that we delve ever more and ever deeper into its dark depths?

Life has become shitty. For you, for me, for most people on Earth, and it is not a secret that it is deteriorating.

You don't need me to tell you that. I do not like to dwell on that. 

But there is hope. There is always hope. Never forget that. We will be fine. 

We just need to stop believing in do-no-goods, banksters, hipsters and politicians. 

Actually, I do not have a political alternative. I have no idea how we can solve all that shit going on in the world. And I can safely say that I have and had no part in it. But that is not helpful, either. I can only say what it is that helps me, and you might guess it. 

It is the woods, of course. I find I am spending more time with trees and deer and foxes and hares and robins and thrushes, owls and eagles, bussards and salamanders, toads and axolotls, trout and badger and what have you than I do with humans. And if you do this you realize two things. The first thing is, how toxic the world of humans really is. The second is that it does not matter. Because just fifteen minutes in nature have a great and soothing effect on your soul. 

I often sit in the woods carving myself a spoon or what have you. I give myself something to do. I keep learning a lot, every day, and it never ceases to amaze me how much there is still to learn, and that is a very good thing. I concentrate on that. 

And, on my oftimes nocturnal bimbles, I keep meeting dear (or was that deer? 😁) friends. Since we treat each other with mutual respect, well, at times that guy still shies, and I sometimes scare him just so he does not forget humans in general are dangerous, but last time he actually came closer. And tried to boop me with his snoot. Which felt otherworldly good. 

"My" birds are raising their offspring. And I feel right at home with them. 

What is happening in the world right now is of course deadly serious. Its power, however, lies in your despair. 

Don't. 

There is hope. 

Stop believing in this world of mankind. There is a world out there. And it takes place (amongst some other places) in the woods. 

It takes place (amongst a lot of other places) in the woods. 

Mora Garberg review

 I got myself a Garberg Carbon, courtesy of www.westfalia.de, who offered me a deal I could not resist. And actually I was a bit shocked by its performance.

Do not get me wrong. I am a knifemaker myself, and while I do not do beautiful, and am my own worst critic, over the years I have learned to make some pretty decent blades for myself. I also do quite a bit of bushcrafty things, nothing fancy, and I am living that way, not doing it, if you get my meaning. I do a fair bit of woodworking and whittling, too. I own a great many knives, and the Garberg always reminded me of the Fjällkniven F 1, and I have next to no funds, so I always was a bit reluctant to buy a knife with a similar concept to that knife.

I was wrong. How wrong I was. ☺️

The first shock I was in for was when I was first given the package. Now I own quite a few Moras, and maybe that sounds nuts, but all of them have that special Mora feeling. You all know what I mean. While they still feel rock solid, they have that light "carry all day without noticing" feeling and the a very nimble balance. When I first took up the Garberg, I nearly dropped it, it was far heavier than I expected. This is not a criticism, by the way, I was just taken unawares. Balance point is a bit behind the index finger. Mora could better this by machining out the hind part of the tang a wee bit more to bring it a bit further towards the index finger to make it even more dexterous, but this is complaining on a very high level. 

The package, by the way, comes with a sustainability certificate. That is Mora for you. Gotta love them.

Straight out of the box, sharpness left something to be desired, but just three strokes on a strop fixed that. After that it was scary sharp. Not just shaving, hair popping away in every direction. Awesome.

I harvested Chaga with it and rammed the tip into a piece of aged birchwood and levered it out sideways. It was not even warmed up by that kind of abuse.

I chopped antler with it. Now keep in mind that this is a Scandi grind with just a tiny micro bevel. You don't do this to that kind of grind. You simply don't. It came out with no dents or cracks or anything at all. It lost some sharpness, and that was all. You could still do these beautiful wood lock shavings with it afterwards, and in aged boxwood, which is very hard.

Actually I carved some twenty spoons with it, processed tinder conk, harvested Chaga and used it in the kitchen, used it as a chisel and a prybar. Of course it is not a kitchen laser, but it is still possible to make see - through onion rings and make short terms of taters, veggies and meat. Of course, due to the thickness of the blade, carrots and celary are split rather than cut, but if you adapt a bit, it also is an awesome knife for field cooking. The black coating is as good as new after all this abuse. 

To date, I did not have to put anything abrasive near it. Edge retention is very, very good. 

The handle to me is a really comfortable outright treat. Due to the almost symmetrical shape it also excels at in-reverse power cuts when whittling, which hints of an extraordinary performance when skinning. The blade shape would also excel at that.

The sheath comes with a rather coarse diamond hone and a fire steel. Both the spine and the protruding piece of tang are ground to 90°, allowing to use the firesteel with great efficiency. The firesteel snaps into a thermoplastic holder, with an awesome fit.

If I need to find anything not so good, it is the retention of the sheath. The knife can fall out when upside down. Given that this is a very, very good knife also in a tactical or military setting, I would suggest Mora could add some kind of mechanical retention device to secure it in these settings.

Actually this is the one knife. You can throw a lot of abuse at it and it is not even warmed up. But it is not a sharpened prybar, either. You can still - with some compromise, of course-use it for cooking tasks.

I am not impressed easily. But I am impressed.

I know some of you might ponder whether to get one. Do (If you can afford it). You will not regret it. I am aware that there are other knives on the market, like the Condor Terrasaur or several Finnish products. They might be good in their own right, maybe better and with a better value for money. I have not yet had the chance to handle them. But this here is not a comparison test, just a review. I do not get paid for it. All I can do is offer you my thoughts on this here knife. And given I have spent a lot of dough on knives, had I had a chance to get my hands on this, maybe it would have saved me some money. Actually, of course, there is a huge gap between, say, a perfectly able Mora companion when pricing is concerned. I, for one, understood the moment I first handled this. While a companion is really tough, too, the Garberg is neigh on indestructable, at least you get the impression. Even to have that feeling in the woods is reassuring and, at least for me, worth one or the other Euro more.

As I said, I can really stand behind this product. 

Leather pouch for a Victorinox Forester SAK

Now you faithful readers know that I am a big fan of Victorinox knives and especially the forester wood, which might just about the perfect knife for light bimbles and hikes. So when the opportunity arose for Fritz to get one, I suggested he should fire away. He even got it for free. Now he cherishes a lot, and for fear of loosing it, always left it at home. 

This was when I had a chat with Santa. He immediately put a red cap on my head and gave me even more green clothes and let me use his workshop to make the old man a leather pouch from some thick and sturdy leather. I messed up several times, since I did not use a scheme, but eventually it all worked out. Put some stain on and formed the leather around the knife. Works even when the flap is open. 

The joy of the old man when Santa brought his gift was priceless. ☺️ 

 

 

Baton, don't break

Course we do. We do it all. And there are a lot of knives on the market designed for exactly that. 

Which means that they are, at best a compromise. 

I am talking about batoning. Of course, the tool of choice is an axe or hatchet if you want to split wood. Even better, a froe. If you have none, you always risk breaking your belt knife, which really sucks. Or you carry around a froe with a tip and a different handle, aka Survival knife. You can find some which are really great cutters, too, no argument necessary. But fact is, batoning puts a lot of stress on a blade. 

This is how I like to do it. 

Gently tap the spine of the knife so that a crack opens. 

 Whittle a glut or wedge. 

At first, insert the glut below the edge of the blade. The knife will then be easy to remove. 

With a controlled motion, using one hand to keep the wedge in the crack, turn it towards the top. 

Split the branch with the wedge. 

Now you have two halves, e.g for whittling a spoon. 

Still alive, smithing, leatherworking, knives, hatchets and a bit of woodworking-and a very shitty title for a post ,because it is too long 🤣

So, phew. A long, long time without a Blog post, for various reasons, some of them obvious, some less so. One thing is a technical reason. I am very often in want for Internet connectivity and writing on a smartphone sucks big time, too. Then I am on Facebook and I really underestimated all the work that this meant. I can relate to anyone not wanting to be on FB, even more now that I have personal experience, so I do not buy into the "blogging is dead" mindset. I am an old fart so I am entitled to some geriatric stubbornness. If you guys are still here, awesome. I love you all for this. 

Another, more obvious reason is that I have always been someone with some weird ideas on planning a career. I never got the gist on why the ratrace should be a good thing. I did my part and when I worked, I always did my best, because I wanted to do some good work, not because I wanted to climb a ladder. That has backfired big time during the pandemic. Of course I am right, but that does not buy you food. Of course the ratrace is even now hitting the concrete wall at full speed. I do not need to tell you about the Shitshow going on. You are not reading my Blog because I tell you that the World is shit. It is. We all know it. And it does not offer any of us any resilience at all ranting about it. 

And I daresay, that last year we all strived and struggled to find whatever resilience we could find. I certainly did. 

And that is what this post is about. We all are a bit like hamsters in a treadmill. Running fast and getting nowhere. And the postmodern capitalist mindset (and mind you, I am still not a communist) is becoming very dangerous very fast, because it has become some sort of pseudo religion. The stock market does not regulate a Virus. Or climate change. I spare you the details. 

A lot of people have no other religion or spirituality other than capitalism. This is not meant to shame or criticize them. But it is a truth. Obviously it is my truth, not everyone's. And our leaders and good shepherds, such as those space nerds sacrificing Earth for their megalomaniac Mars Mission dreams, simply eat up the flock instead of guarding it. Nuff said. So it all fails and falters. The System doesn't work. There is no such thing as politics anymore, just Stock market economy and a lot of corruption as has been at the end of all high civilizations in history. It is nothing at all surprising. 

But nuff said, we all have to carry on. We need to survive that Shitshow. 

Now you all know that I am not quite fond of the Survival and prepping crowd. Because, of course, you can build a bunker, hoard weapons and ammunition and dry food, the more disgusting, the better. Of course, there is a time and place for this. But that timeline and place will come even sooner the more you cultivate this mindset. It is a paradoxon.

But sitting in your bunker waiting for your enemies might help you to survive. Even not necessarily so, but there is a certain probability. But it is not living. It offers no resilience. Because, well, the bad news is that we are all in this together. It is not as simple as "us versus them". And, most importantly, you need a reason not only to survive, but a reason to live. 

Fear is never a good councellor. It, too, has a time and place, but you need more to stay resilient. 

I can safely say that I am afraid. I am very afraid. And maybe righteously so. Of course I am. But not all of the time. Of course I avoid people. I wear a mask, I wash my hands and I advocate sensible vaccination. But this post is not about discussing that, either. 

I find I really close the doors against the world a lot these days. I mean, it is toxic in more than one sense of the word. In another Post long ago I have already talked about the "civic duty of escapism". I find this really valuable and it gives me a good perspective to actually live. 

Because I think I have found a way of life that is called escapist. But reality shows us just and even now that what was called reality does not work. There is no such thing as eternal growth. In physics and chemistry, in biology, mathematics and even cosmology, growth at a certain point tends to fall into entropy, and while I am a specialist in neither field of expertise I think that there is no exception from the norm. 

I have a lot of books. I love to read them. I love to think. But thinking things through to the end does not offer me a lot of pleasure these days. You have to stop it from time to time. Instead, I have found it very beneficial to do something with my hands. 

Crafting stuff has always been a haven and a home for me. In school, I was a weird kid. I have written a lot about that, so I just spare you the details. But whenever I was being mobbed or beaten, the shop in the basement or the woods were my safe space and a place for retreat. I still have not bought a single piece of furniture in my life. I still use the wardrobes and cabinets and shelves I made together with my father when I was nine. They are not perfect and they do not need to be. But every time I look at them, every time I use them, I remember where I come from, what I am and enjoy them. I remember my father and mother and the bad times and the good. 

When you came down into the basement of our home, there was a very characteristic smell. First, there was a pantry, in the dryest room with a lot, a fecking lot of conserves and food and my mother also did the laundry in it and crafted her own stuff in there. The Workshop had this warm smell, a bit with a vanilla note of the warm shavings from the wood lathe and circular saw, but also the stern and hard smells of various metals, including the somewhat incense - like smell of titanium, and the various smells of lubing, grease and detergents, varnishs, lacquers and paints. But what I really loved most was the smell of wood. 

We presumeably had every tool man has ever invented. ☺️ And my father taught me how to use a lot of them, as far as he knew, at least. He was often a harsh teacher, but I am really grateful for all the knowledge he gave me. When I think about these times now, I am even more grateful. Because it is the smells and the knowledge of my hands that mean a haven and a home for me. Maybe you have something like that, too. If not, make it. It is not too late. 

So, doing stuff with my hands is what saved me and still does. And I daresay you deserve some impressions what I was about all of this time. Of course I did a lot more, from foraging to smithing to riding to more sensible stuff. I spare you the promises of upcoming posts, because I might not be able to follow through. But there is enough material. Or would be. I hope you can excuse me if it doesn't work out. 

The knife above is a story in itself. And a good memory. When I was working for Gunnar on the Jagd und Hund Expo in Dortmund, he gave me a load of really awesome Mora blanks. As I already said elsewhere, if I have ever met a hard - working man who was good - natured with awesome manners, style and humour, it was Gunnar. We have not met for far too long. If you read this, Gunnar, "tack för senåste", and from my heart. I have always meant to show him an interpretation of the classic Mora with a bog oak handle. It has taken a lot of time, but, well, here it is. ☺️ I also added a nickle silver ferrule courtesy of Mr. Weber Jun. from www.weberknives.com. I still need to make a sheath for it, but it will definitively be a user. 

Now you guys may know my positions on Moras by now. They are a reality check for every knifemaker worth his shit. It is not easy to best their performance. It is neigh on impossible to best their value for money. I cannot beat their quality... By far, that is. ☺️ This is one of my favourite knives these days. I reforged it from a somewhat silly design of a blacksmith knife I once made from 1.2842 (O2) adding a little bit of extra pewpew to the tempering and grind. Which is almost flat to zero, just a tiny bit convex. Handle is made from birch burr, copper, bronze, and glued in with pitch glue. Which, by the way, works really nice. I am still trying to figure it out, but I daresay, it works a cinch for rat tail tangs like that one. 

This is still a work in progress. A Virobloc from an Opinel, a boxwood handle and a damascus blade. Still needs a bit of fiddling about, and I am still learning how to do it right, but I am really loving it. 

Not everything you can do is something big. Sometimes whittling a humble gypsy flower is enough to get your mind off things. Cuppa tree, a simple project accomplished in ten minutes is often enough do regain enough composure to plough on. 

Just for fun I forged a ram's head walking stick topper out of spring steel. 

I also did quite a lot of spooncarving. I still take care of Fritz, the partner of my laid mother. I left this one quite raw so he could finish it. He was enjoying it mucho. And we had a beer. Perfect. ☺️ 

Sitting in dark woods has become a custom for me. I had forged a tomahawk, which is something of a tall Fimbulmyrk tale in itself, for I found a hatchet someone started from crucible steel embedded in the soil. That guy must have given up on punching through the steel, for there were only superficial chisel marks. 

I made a handle from some mystery hardwood I found. 

This is a ladle I carved very recently. It is made from birch wood. 

So folks, I do not know if you need that, but it is not just about Survival. It is about living. To me, life is good when it can be this way. Most of those things are for free, if you know how to. But even if you don't feel so inclined, a cuppa in the woods goes a long way in keeping you sane. 

Please take good care, stay safe and sensible and don't care about every mumbo-jumbo you hear. 

Hope to write again soon, yours truly, 

Fimbulmyrk. ☺️