AYAHI-and yet another hammer-in;-)

 After the Solingen Knife expo (see monster post;-), we decided to do some forging again and met at the smithy. Volker was already busy with the kids, so we geared up, and got at it. Nick was there, and he is making some huge process. Great to see, how well he gets along with the kids, too! He forged some pendants, chain links for "The chain";-), oh so little knife-lookalikes from mild steel (that´s easier to forge for the kids, and by  cold-working the edge even cuts a little), snakes, awls, and the like.

 I was taking it easy a little, doing some "making" work and less smithing, like grinding and polishing this three-layer laminate, spring and mild steel. I experimented with some pattern-controlling. Did not work out quite the way I wanted, for the laminate is a bit off - centre, but I guess, it´s a learning process, and there´s a lot to learn still.

 Then I worked on the handle of those two Kopis knives. Above is a damascus blade, 115x2,4mm, bronze fittings, volcanic fibre, mule deer antler, and below is the would-be "Uhlenfang", "Plattdiütsch" a Northern German branch of language dating back to ancient continental Saxon, meaning  "owl´s fang".High carbon steel given to me by the forest, 120mm long with a distal taper from 8mm at the handle to 2,4 mm at the tip which might be crucible steel, for it shows a pattern, Mokume Gane, and reindeer antler.

 I made a buttcap for Uhlenfang to peen the tang over. Not that it needs it, but I like the looks;-). It´s Mokume Gane also, not yet etched.

 A fork I made quick and dirty for the barbecue after work... this tends to become a tradition, and I don´t complain...;-).

 Then I redid the edge bevel on the knife of Kathrin, Nick´s woman. Volker provided us with a steady flow of caffeine, so much in fact that it became hard on my stomach and I had to decline...;-) imagine that!

 Those two girls came over all the way from France to visit the smithy!

 But there also were kids from the neighbourhood... many are not here for the first time, and drop by whenever possible. This is the best compliment we can get.

 The young ladies enjoyed the work thoroughly.

 We forged hearts and a pendant, and it was fun to work with those two.

 Then the dale fell silent, and I set out to normalize the Seax I forged recently. I am currently thinking of how to fit a handle. I am fond of the Torgard seax, but also like the ones from Lembeck... we´ll see how it goes;-). It´s made from spring steel, with a rather thick spine and a medium length.

Then Goldemar obviously rode me;-) and I started a damascus billet from 1.2842 and mild steel. No progress shots yet, but it´s in the making, and I´ll keep you informed. Nick was getting somewhat hungry and started the BBQ fire, while I was firing away and salting;-). Do you know that feeling, when you were a kid, and were drawing away at arts classes, and completely lost in the work, and the teacher called "Now, lads and lassies,  should you come to an end...". I hated that feeling. It was not without humour that the situation remineded me of that;-), when Nick sat  there waiting (and making no secret of the fact*ggg*). Then I ran out of Borax, and had to close up. Crazier still, the stuff I thought was Borax was no Borax, and as I used it as a flux, resulted in a stench of flowers and the cockrot;-). The billet came apart at the end as a result, but I will try to weld that back on again. Just an exercise is all...

I was feeling all fluffy from the effort anyway, so I cleaned up, with great help from Nick, and we finally got to the point of grilling. I had prepared some champignons with a stuffing with cheese, lard, wild herbs, garlic, onions and cream, Nick had brought steaks and stuffed baguette, and Volker provided us with beer. Renate soon joined us, we had a simple but magnificient meal together, and chatted and laughed and generally enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.

Then suddenly it was all over, and I saddled my steed and rode home, with a big gratefulness for the fact that life, while being a right bastid from time to time, generally is a great place.

Grímsearksbérarmál

Kreise, Kreise, Schritte zwei

Hin und hin und her,

Stränge zwei und zwei Welten,

Webe Leben, Kampfkunst Dir.

Räder, Räder, Klingensang,

Freie Schultern ohne Zwang,

Drei die Kessel, Feuersäule,

Kreise zwei und Schritte frei.

Tanze, tanze, Sonne, Mond,

Singe, Klinge, Ringe zwei,

Schwellen, Steigen, Sinken, Fallen,

Auch Gesang der starken Tür,

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Bogen, Messer, Kette auch,

Schwert und Beil und Eibenstab

Mantel, Maske, Mondlicht Dir.

Ringe, Ringe, Kreise zwei,

Zeichen in der Ewigkeit,

Spiel das Spiel der Hohen Hallen,

Tanze Sternenwirbel auch.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Schwelle, steige, sinke sanft,

Wogentanz im alten Mondlicht,

Klingenglanz und freier Schritt. 

Tanze, tanze, Schwellen, Steigen,

Sinken, sanft, und Drachenflug,

Stürze in den blauen Kessel,

Sing Gesänge alter Macht.

Alte Macht des Elfenrades,

Silberstrasse auf dem See,

Träume alturalte Pfade,

Nebel liegt im Eisenwald.

Webe Mantel, webe Zauber,

Webe Funken, tanze Blitze,

Drehe Dich im Tanz der Räder,

Fliege, fange, breche Stahl.

Durch das Mondlicht,

Durch die Nebel,

Schemenglanz im Eisenwald.

Leise scheint der Mond ein Zwielicht

Auf den tiefen Brunnen hin.

Spiegeln Flammen sich im Schwertstahl,

Spiegelt dort sich auch der Mond,

Einsam brennt die Flammensäule,

Eisenbaum auf Kupferberg.

Und aus sieben ist die Flur

Gebaut ist auch der Kreis der Zwölf,

Gemacht in der Gestalt von Schwertern,

Stehen ewig stählern Wacht.

Und dies ist der Ring der Kampfkunst,

Und dies ist der Eisenwald,

Und dies ist der Kreis der Schlachten,

Und das Lied des Stahls singt kalt.

Fünf die Ringe, fünf die Finger,

Sieben Elektron, die Zier des Stahls,

Darauf tanzen wilde Flammen,

Ins Wasser scheint der Mond so fahl.

Es tanzt der Wind im Blätterdunkel,

Weide, wild am Wasserrain

Und stampft der Stiefel auch die Flechte,

Bald schon richtet sie sich auf.

Und türmt sich an der Wand die Wächte

Nimmt bald Lawine ihren Lauf.

Tanze, tanze, schwelle, steige,

Sinke sanft, Dein Drache fliegt.

Fliege über Bergesgipfel,

Fange, und zerbreche Eisen,

Der Mantel schirmt die Seele Dir.

Wissen liegt im Wald berborgen,

Wahrheit liegt im kalten Wind,

Weisheit singt in alten Tänzen,

Und in des wilden Kranichs Flug.

Finde Mut im Lauf der Hirsche,

Unter der Zunge grauen Wolfs,

Finde Trost im Ruf der Eule,

Und im Fang des Falken hell.

Wissen liegt im Gang des Bären,

Atem der Fische, Bart der Frau,

Bergeswurzel, Dunkelheit,

Weisheit in der alten Fessel,

Geschmeidig noch und silbern grau.

Drum sei Dein Gang der Gang des Bären,

Drum sei Dein Fuß die Bergeswurzel,

Sei wie Mann und Frau, sei eins,

Atme still die tiefen Wasser,

Atme still und atme frei.

Und wenn es ruft Dich hin zur Pflicht,

Opfre Deine Hand dem Würger,

Ihn zu binden ohne Schlacht

Und steh eng dann Aug in Auge

Mit dem Kind des Lügenredners

Dass er wisse, wer Du seist.

Tanze, tanze, Schwellen, Steigen,

Schritte neun und Kreise zwei,

Tanze durch das Licht der Welten,

Fliege auch durch grauen Stein.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Räder drei und Flur der Zwölf,

Einsam brennt die alte Eibe,

Schwert und Nabel am Rand der Schlacht.

Folge still dem Hasen alt

Über Mondlichtflure hin,

Auf dem Pfad der Jägerin,

Durch den kalten Eisenwald.

Reglos neben scheuen Rehen,

Mit dem Bär in einer Höhle,

Mit dem Wolf in einem Rudel,

Unter Wildschweinrotte, Hasenvolk.

Sitze still auf dunkler Lichtung,

Leg an Mantel, Maske, Kette, Schwert,

Bogen, Beil und langes Messer;

Sitze still und unsichtbar,

Bis die üble Beute kommt.

Sei ein Nebel unter Schatten,

Schwer ein schwarzer Schleuderstein,

Sei ein grausam kaltes Messer

Eisen, Bronze, Würgerfluch.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Schwelle, steige, schwinge Stahl,

Gehüllt in düstren Schattenmantel

Der Wälder Kampfkunst alturalt.

Sei der Nabel auf dem Hügel,

Wächterstein am Heldengrab,

Sei ein Wächter alter Lieder,

Drachen zwei am Lebensbaum.

Es mahlt die Mühle Zauberlieder,

Wurzeln drei und Kessel auch,

Erde, Atem, grünes Feuer,

Das AOUEIn klingt im Wälderwind.

Schwelle, steige, durch die Kessel,

Schweige sanft den Eulenpfad,

Vernimm die Runen alter Wipfel,

Singe sanft den Würgerfluch.

Wissen unter den drei Wurzeln,

In Zwielichtbrunnen, Drachenneid,

Es mahlt die Mühle ewig Lieder,

Wo Allvater einst sein Auge barg.

Drum brennt ein Licht in dunkler Höhle,

Drum rinnt das Feuer grün bergan,

Drum fließt der Wind in die drei Kessel,

Drum gärt der Schaum im dunklen Sumpf.

Wissen auch im Stamm verborgen,

Wächst und webt und rennt bergauf,

Auf, hinauf, zur alten Krone, 

Wo vier Winde halten Wacht.

Drei der Kessel, Räder auch,

Wissen liegt im Baum verborgen,

Weisheit, Wurzel, Krone, Stamm,

Wissen in der Hirsche Äsung,

Und im Brunnen tief im Holz.

So wächst der Baum hin zu den Sternen,

Wolf und Bär und Eulenflug,

Verhüllte Wächter, Bogen, Messer,

Kupfer, Bronze, Stein und Stahl.

Und weht ein Sturm der Eisensprache,

Durch den Hain der alten Kunst,

Verzage nicht, denn der Mantel

Schirmt vor Hass und Eisen Dich.

Und jenseits alter goldener Hallen,

Fort und weiter aus der Welt,

Führen Dich die Zwielichtpfade

Hin zu weißen Hallen hoch.

Es gärt der Met im tiefen Kessel,

Dunkel in der Erde kühl,

Geborgen unter den drei Wurzeln,

Vergoren wird der Dichtermet.

Und steigt nicht auf der Schatz des Adlers,

Des Riesen Lösung, heiliger Trank,

Hin zum hellen Gold des Herzens,

Und zum blauen Stern hinauf?

Kommt auf die Lippen Dir die Süße,

Honig hell und Runensang,

Schmiede Schwerter Dir und Speere,

Eisensprache, Schildgesang.

Webe alles dies in Deinen Mantel,

Zum Schutz vor Haß und Eisen Dir,

Zur Tarnung, wenn im Wald Du lauerst,

Auf der Blitze Beutetier.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Geschirmt von Mantel, Stahlwind, Met,

Von dem süßen Schatz des Adlers,

Von der tiefen Rune Klang.

Stahl liegt in der Bärenfährte,

In der Spur des grauen Wolfs,

Und im Tritt der starken Elche,

Liegt die Saat des kalten Winds.

Und der Gang der Bärentatze,

Und der Pfad des grauen Wolfs,

Und die Wut herbstlicher Elche,

Der Fische Atem, Bart der Frau,

Hell strahlt and der Bergeswurzel

Alturalt der kalte Stern.

So kommt nieder Sumpf und Gärung,

Geboren wird der kalte Stahl,

So steigt auf das Lied des Messers

Unter Mond und Sternen fahl.

Wirf das Erz in Deine Esse,

Das Herz, das lachend Lohe singt,

Schür das Feuer hell und heißer

Mit dem Sturm des blauen Sterns.

Schmiede so das kalte Messer,

Ring und Kelch und Kette Dir,

Schmiede Stahl und wirke Wunder

An den Wurzeln wilder Macht.

Schwingst Du das Schwert,

Ein Mond im Wasser,

Sei Sternenlicht,

Nimm vom Glanz von Mond und Sternen,

Ein kaltes Lied der Flöte fern,

Flöte hell und Silbermaske,

Zwielichtmantel, Eisensturm.

Klingt im Hain eherne Sprache,

Verzage nicht, denn in der Esse

Findest bald den Schlüssel Du,

Öffnest bald die Kupferschlösser,

Eisen, Silber, Gold und Stahl.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Singe, tanze, schmiede Stahl,

Stahl in brennend heißer Lohe,

Lohe tief im Herzen wild.

Schmiede Dir die Runenkette,

Neun der Glieder, Lied aus Stahl,

Name und die Benennung,

Stellvertreter, Bindeglied.

Und erstaunend werfe Wunder,

Ein die Glieder aus dem Erz,

Möglichkeit der Gesänge,

Zeit und Zeitenweise alt.

Fliege fange, breche Eisen,

Es brennt das Feuer aus neun Hölzern,

Es lodert Lohe heiß und hell.

Räder, Räder, Flammenlieder,

Frei die Dichtung ohne Zwang,

Drei die Kessel, Feuersäule,

Webe Wissen, schaffe Sturm.

Dies ist auch die Kunst des Schaffens

Eines jeglich Dinges hier,

Fern noch von der Welt des Lebens

Wartet ungesungenes Lied.

Schmiedest Verse Du und Lieder

Oder Stahl am Amboß alt,

Träumst Du Dich durch Schwerterstürme;

Dies ist die Kunde alter Weisheit:

Schaffenskraft der Grüne hell.

Siehst Du das Bild, hörst Du die Lieder,

Im dunklen Kessel, blau und tief?

Sing Gesänge, alte Lieder,

Schmiede Glieder, altes Erz,

Dem Feigen kocht er Speise nicht.

Gefunden wird das Bild des Eisens,

Wind im lichten, heilgen Hain...

Finde Namen und Benennung,

Dreh im Lichte hin und her,

Bild des Namens der Benennung,

Nornen drei am Weltenbaum,

Tanz des Spiels der Möglichkeiten:

Rufe hell dann Lieder aus.

So klingt also unter den Bäumen

In der Halle Runensang,

Lohe, Feuer der Geschichten,

Eisen beugt sich Eisenzwang.

Alsdann tanze die Exstase,

Versenkung in die Kessel auch,

Vergoren wird der Trank der Mitte,

Aus dem Brunnen an der Wurzel,

Unter alten Säulen drei.

  

Hitze steigt auf aus den Lenden,

Leben drängt zu Leben hin,

Doch geheim ist jene Kunde,

Die Kraft zu nutzen aus dem Sinn.

Was belebt das Kind der Mutter,

Was treibt an Kind, Mann und Frau,

Was belebt die jungen Pflanzen,

Und die großen Bäume alt?

Was Geheimnis jeden Lebens,

Grünes Feuer, Lendenlust?

Lendenlicht, Gesang der Tiefe,

Aus dem Feuer stammt der Trank.

Gibt dem Geist die fernen Bilder,

In Hitze und in Kühlung hin,

Gibt der Hand den Drang zum Schaffen,

Gibt dem Schwert die Kraft zum Krieg.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Tanze wild und tanze frei,

Finde Namen und Benennung,

Räder kreisen, Räder drei.

Schöpfe aus dem Trank der Tiefe

Bilder und die grüne Kraft;

Aus dem Abgrund höchster Höhe

Kommt Benennung dann zu Dir.

Und fandest Du den wahren Namen,

Und sangst Du Wesen, Sinn und Sein,

Wirst nach Willen Du erschaffen

Dich und was zu schaffen

Du ansonsten noch begehrst.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Tanze Lieder alter Macht.

Schaffe aus der Kraft des Lebens

Den Gesang des Schicksals Dir.

Schon strahlt auf der Stirn die Sonne

Und im Nacken leuchtet Mond,

Neumond unter Hauptes Wurzel,

Vollmond an des Rückgrats Grund.

Sterne leuchten an den Flanken, 

Fünf Gesänge tanzen wild...

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Tanze Sterne, leuchte hell.

Sonnenrad in Herzensmitte,

Sternenlicht im dunklen Schoß,

Und auf dem Scheitel brennt die Krone,

Greift hinab zum kühlen Grund.

Lege an den Schattenmantel,

Maske, Messer, Kette, Kelch,

Stets trifft auch der alte Bogen,

Bogen aus dem Sternkristall.

Niemals fehlt der alte Bogen,

War auch tief der Krieger Fall,

Licht verbrennt die falschen Götter,

Feuer auf der Feste Grund.

Hoch liegt hell der Zauberhügel

Unter Flammenschein der Berg,

Burg der Häuser reinen Lichtes,

Feuerrad am Horizont.

Acht Mal Neun die hohen Häuser,

Sonnennamen, Mondlichtweg,

Kannst Du diese Rune raten,

Spannst den Kristallbogen Du?

Auf der Brust die Burg des Rades,

Feuerrad auf Mondlichtweg,

Zweiundsiebzig die Spirale,

Geheimnis in der Weite fern.

Gärt der goldene Met im Dunkel,

Strahlt in der Krone blau der Stern,

Goldenrot die Feuersäule,

Drachenrückgrat, Mondlichtweg.

Kreist die Flammenrune diese Wege

In der Burg der starken Tür,

Geheimnis eines Drachenherzens

Durch zweiundsiebzig Häuser DIr.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Kristallbogen schmiedet Stahl.

Tiefe Erde, Urgrund, Kühlung,

Quelle tief im dunklen Grund.

Sonne scheint auf dunkle Wasser,

Tanzt den Mondlichtrunentanz,

Tiefe Erde, Urgrund, Kühlung,

Wird liebkost von wildem Wind.

Zweiundsiebzig die Spirale,

Dreht im Herz den alten Tanz

Neunfach acht zur linken Seite

und zur rechten achtfach neun.

Sonnenlicht über dem Herzen,

Häuser unter Mond und Stern,

Häuser, Räder, Schultern frei,

Donnerrune, Räder drei.

Spanne den uralten Bogen,

Kristallrune, Pilzgeflecht,

Langsam ballt die Faust des Gottes

Um der Blitze Griffstück sich.

Dies ist auch die Kraft des Kampfes,

Silberpfeile, Schilf am Teich,

Blitze wiegend sich im Winde,

Wind der Burg des alten Rades,

Feuerrad auf Mondlichtweg.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Kraft der Blitze schmiedet Stahl,

Verborgen tief im Zwielichtmantel

Harrt der Eisenrune Klang.

Langsam ballt die Faust des Gottes 

Um der Blitze Griffstück sich;

Grellheiß singt der alte Winter

Wind in heller Esse tief.

Fliege, fange, schmiede Eisen,

Den weißenn Tod der Hexe Dir,

Webe dies in Deinen Mantel,

Schattenlied aus Zeit und Macht.

Name, Ausruf und Benennung,

Zwielicht, Nebel, Eisensturm,

Eisentanz, der Tod der Hexe,

Und im Stahl glänzt Echsenhaut.

Webe Schimmern, webe Stränge

Tanze Stahl und Zwielichtwoge,

Tanze Träume, Baumgesänge,

Webe Leben, spinnwebfein.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Eichenlied und starkes Tor,

Wipfelwindwut webt die Lieder

Glieder neun der Kette kalt.

Webe Dornen drei zum Mantel,

Stahlwindlied und Drachenzorn,

Kichern kleiner Geisterkinder

In Wind und Wut des alten Walds.

Geister, Schemen, Schattenlieder,

Geben Führung und Geleit;

Es singt der Wind in Wipfelwiege,

Baumgeistlieder knarren tief.

Fliege, fange, breche Eisen,

Leiser Schritt in Dickungsgrund,

Wege führen weit und weiter

Durch den Wald der alten Kunst.

...to be  continued, but I don´t know if I can ever translate it. It was given to me in a night of exstasy and perceived with pain and many words simply do not transport the same power in another language. I´ll dream up something similar for my English readers... promise (or threat?;-)).

 

In twilight resolved

In twilight resolved

No more

To the villains

I will kneel

Nevermore

Under the crescent

Of the new moon

By the owls´flight in the gloom:

No more 

In the daylight

Let the twilight

Embrace my soul

No more 

To the villains

I will kneel

Nevermore

And by holly,

And by yew,

By the thirteen

Silver arrows

Find my resolve

Know what to do

By the ancient

Bow of crystal,

By the vessel

Of the void;

By the spiral

On an old hill,

By the houses

Old and high...

In the shadow

I be walking

hear the owl´s song

In my soul:

No more

To the villains

Shalt thou kneel

Nevermore...

YAHI - Yet another hammer - In

 The other day we met at the smithy to have another hammer - In and some barbecueing afterwards. Daniel dropped by to show off the sword he bought at Hohensyburg medieval fair and to have some smithing. We had some argument about the ethics of swordplay, and I sincerely hope he is not angry with me for speaking my word. I guess it is a good thing he is taking up reenactment, and will live up to the responsibility that goes with owning a weapon, blunted blade or no. Nick dropped by, and I had a chance to have a look at his first knife, a neck knife with a bone handle, made out of selectively tempered spring steel. I helped a bit with the quench, but otherwise it´s all his work. I would have fitted the handle a bit differently, but that´s all my preference. I especially love the sheath with atenned piece of bone. He used a concoction of walnut, coffee and onion peels to colour it. Sweet! Have to try it myself.

 Willy was there, too, and relished in working on this 3 to manual press we want to use in smithing. I simply love to see someone loving what he does, and I can safely say that we were quite a different bunch of smiths were it not for Willy´s knowledge, skill and misanthropic humour;-).

 Daniel made a fork for carving up "Spießbraten", a German version of "Shish-Kepap". BIG ones, in fact. He made it from silver steel. Although I do not understand his choice of steel, it´s not my business, and it´s made very cleanly.

 Willy made this spoon from mild steel.

 Nick´s first fork... cudos, bro!

 This, however, is the first damascus knife Daniel made long ago in the smithy of our old master, Matthias Zwissler. Monster damascus from the world´s biggest damascus billet (2,4 to), 75Ni8, 15N20 and 1.2842 steel. Hats off!

 Hats off for Daniel for providing us with delicious sausage and BBQing in the bargain.

 And a quick fork Daniel made for grilling.

I also considered to make a gif from those two pics of Nick having a beer, I guess that slightly leery smile tells a thing or two about the AFTER-smithing party;-).

 I guess this goes without saying, but when forging, do not drink alcohol!

We had lit the fire, and had a chat and a delicious meal provided by Daniel, and some good work done. We chatted, and Volker joined us, we laughed and told stories and shared our time, and talked about what we want to do and what we had done and where we want to get. We talked about dreams and schemes and plans, and the stars came out, and an owl flew overhead, and the deer passed in the distance on a field.

 This is what I did to my little integral that day, some tiny bit of sloppy engraving. I normally am not overly fond of overdecorated thingies, but since this is one brutally capable bastid, ther´d be no harm, I thought, and this is a skill I still have to work on.

 I try to get some kind of face out of the buttcap. As is, I tanned it with iron oxide in vinegar / salt / citric acid concoction. I still have a lot of work to do on it, but to date I am relatively content with the outcome.

The other side.

I also finished quenching this La Tène Celtic short sword, and it came along nicely, passing the British saber test (Bending five inches out of true to either side, see if it comes out straight) and the Zlatoust test of lateral strength (Whacking it flat over a round piece of wood), so I guess, the temper is there. I still have to memorize, though, that the overall hardness of a sword quenched in the modern European style is lower than that of a knife. I am still working it out how to do some slective edge-quench without loam / Hamón technique on a double-edged blade, but I have some ideas...;-)


It was a great day with good food, and as usual, quality people, and projects getting there. Life can be great, if we can keep it simple.

The Sgian Dhú for Jürgen...

 Now this is a sgian dhú for Jürgen I made quite fast and a bit sloppy. But hey, it was a gift, so don´t complain...;-) It is a real knife, no really it is;-)... the blade came out a bit of an unintentional recurve, but as is, it works well enough, another bastid. It´s made from 85mm x some 3,5 mm spring steel, selectively tempered and is nail, vise, anvil, antler and beer bottle ;-) (it opens beer bottles, so it´s a taactical knife;-)) tested.

 As a buttcap I chose a piece of fossile shell I once found in an old stone quarry.

 The ferrule is my trademark copper, and the spine has a fast filework. All in all, it took two-and-a-half hours to make. Still too long to earn money with, but I guess it´s all in the training, and I do not know exactly if I want to cut down on quality even more.

But it´s a nice challenge. I guess Jürgen likes it, for he did not beat me up;-) and instead offered me a beer...;-).

The new bullies on the block;-)-the folks from Ahlhauser Hammer Smithy!

It was some time ago when Mike and Diana dropped by the Bethaus smithy to do some forging with their little one and having a go. It was right fun to work with them, for especially Mike is an accomplished blacksmith himself. We the talked about some plans of theirs to revive an old smithy in the Ennepetal that - alas - burned down some time ago. Now there´s a club to sponsor its revival, and Diana wrote the other day for me to announce they are now online. And here comes the link:

http://fv-ahlhauser-hammer-e-v.webnode.com/uber-uns/

I want to give you some personal ins and outs about this smithy. It is one of the old smithies in the Ennepe valley, an old site of many smithing manufactories, and one of the last upholders of regional smithing traditions. Scythes, machetes and farming tools as knives also were made there. It stands in line with the Krenzer Hammer, another manufactory looking back on a long tradition. The valley is also deeply molded
by blacksmithing and metallurgy. Even the trees tell a tale of a long tradition of crop-change farming, charcoaling and bloomery. In many places you can find slag heaps, the so - called "Sinnerhoopen" and iron oxides and ore which hint to the smelting of the legendary steel for the "Brackersfelder Knopmetz". The smithy burned down some time ago, and those folks are now faced with the challenge to start with zero to rebuild a tradition. It is a very great thing, because this can  establish a new tradition. I will contribute as much as I can, and might be the "Brackersfelder Knopmetz" will come to life in their smithy... we will see what the future brings. For now I am quite enthused.

If you could find it in you (or your purse) to contribute to their work, please contact them via their homepage. Thank you!

Spring hammer - In at the Bethaus smithy

 Last weekend saw the sun shining and the folks getting nervous to be out smithing again. So we called each other up, and made for the smithy. Willy was already there lighting up forge.

 Nick dropped by, too. He wanted to get the little spring steel knife he started for his woman, ready, and found out the hard way that annealing is the harder part... don´t let it bother you, bro, you´re doing well enough, and we all know how it is to get the first one done!

 This is the bronze knife I forged that day.

 The kids kept coming, and we did some tutorials, too.

 Willy especially had a lot to do and did a great job as usual!

 The kids were right stoked to make their own projects!

 Then Daniel arrived and had a go himself. It was all  a good-natured and friendly atmosphere, and many of the kids weren´t there for the first time, but are there each weekend to do some forging.

 This is an iron age knife Willy made with the kids. Inspiring!

 I forged this teeter-totter snail, and it was almost as much fun making it as playing with it afterwards... guess there´s an idea!

 Then Alex and his kids dropped by. Alex is Viktor´s son and keeps the fire burning for sure. He brought his own barbecue, and we had a chat and a laugh!

 A Kopis I made, all integral, no grinding yet!

 When the moon came out, we lit the barbecue again. I had prepared some cheese- stuffed champignons and parika, the guys brought meat and bread, we had a beer and chatted the night away.

 Oh, and discussed the results of a day;-). Sgians forged by myself and finished by Willy... guess there´s a cooperation coming;-)...

 Viktor had got himself some cleavers on a flea market recently, and I like ´em very much. Presumeably from the 18th / 19th century, all hand - forged.

 Sweet!

When I rode home I was feeling content and glad of my acquaintance! Folks, it was a fun day, great to have you around!

What a bronze knife can do....

 The other day I had that little itchy twitchy troll at the back of my mind wanting to know it again, and so, during our last hammer - In I just made another bronze knife. I wanted it primarily for harvesting herbs and elf-watching (they just hate iron, you know;-)). I wanted to know also why it might be that humans were so reluctant to adapt to iron (the European bronze age endured thousands of years, and some good thousand years after the first iron products were made, bronze tools were still widely used throughout all classes and castes and regions). Could it be that bronze makes for good backwoods tools after all?

 The blade is hot forged to a certain degree and then hammered out cold to work - harden it. I was able to get the blade shaving sharp, and it whittled fire sticks and delicate flower work well.

 The knife. I estimate the hardness in the ultimate edge about 50 HRC. It could easily be maintained using a sandstone for grinding and a quartz for finishing, a good thing in the wilderness. I then asked myself whether it would stand up to some abuse. Prying and digging with it bent the tip slightly, but with little effort the blade could be straightened.

 I batoned it through some dried birch wood, and did some chopping to twigs. Chopping dented the blade a bit in the hind part where I could not do as much cold-working due to lack of experience with the material. Also, this is a bearing bronze and not ideally suited for the task due to a high copper content. A traditional knife bronze (98% copper/2% tin or 1%/1% silver) would come out way harder

But even as is, you wouldn´t have any problem whatsoever surviving in the woods with this knife. I guess bronze tools simply were doing the job well enough so that humans simply did not feel the need to swap. This need only arose when weapons were concerned, for a steel weapon e.g. made from ferrum noricum (not iron, mind you!) will ultimately shear through a bronze  sword. Bello pater omniae seems to apply in this case.

Bronze as a foraging tool has its advantages, though. Herbs harvested with a bronze knife or sickle will not take to a metallic taste so easily and, according to hearsay, will be more effective in healing. So this one will see use for foraging herbs.

Toodling around the bush;-)

 The other day I was feeling the need again, that itchy, scratchy need to get out and put in some singletrack miles. Also there was the birch sap rising at mild temperatures and I saddled my steed and put some tools into my daypack and a fresh container bottle, made myself a flask of tea, and then I made for the hills. The sun was shining, and at first I was thinking about heading straight to the grove, but then decided otherwise and took in some much-missed singletrack riding. It is funny, I do njot often realize I miss it,l but when I am finally on my bike again and headed down a technical singletrail , everything fallos into place again. I contemplated a bit about that, while I was riding up a steep road that mends into a fireroad, and that I have ridden since I was a child. I took this route home from school when I was kid quite often. Now my time at school was not exactly an easy one. I was better at school than most, I had different questions, I was not very good at sports how it was teached (I hated football or basketball or gymnastics, and even though I rode mountainbike races already, even worldcup races, I always failed at school sports;-)), and, generally I was a strange kid, growing up in the woods as I did. Mountainbiking up that trail always had a kind of katharsis effect from all the mobbing and mocking and violence I had to suffer. I struggled up that road, and where it ends and goes on as a fireroad into the woods, I used to stop and relax, and it always was as if a great weight was taken from my shoulders. 23 years later my life is not exactly easy, and will never be, and sadness is a companion on my trail. But as I took my feet from the pedals of a way different bike, with a loooong high-mech suspension fork and no drum brakes at all;-), I felt the weight of it all subside, and I breezed in the early spring breeze freely. I often think about mountainbiking in general quite critical these days. Most mountainbikers I know behave like right morons. This is a development I witnessed since quite recently. Noone respects hikers, horseback riders, or hunters anymore, in fact it is deemed an act of coolness to ooze out quite some language into their faces. Slowing down before hikers is uncool, and tearing up the landscape with manmade stunts off the trail, is no longer  a no-go, but commonplace. Okay, so I have built stunts myself, on abandoned trails, and had fun with them. And it´s not really a great damage done, if it´s done properly and with respect to nature and fellow human beings. But this new generation of riders (with quite a lot of old-generation riders in it also) simply does not care a shit, to a degree that they even get bodily against people pointing out it´s not okay to do this or that. I always try to talk to people politely and to find a solution, but I have given up on trail access issues, for the worst enemy of legal trails are the mountainbikers themselves. And if you add politics to the issue you got a brew that will drive the sanest man mad. So the taste of mountainbiking has become a bit of a bitter one, for on many outings I meet with hunters, pedestrians and equestrians, and simply because I talk to them, even if it is difficult at times, politely and with respect, I get a right shower of the foul, of their bad experiences with bikers, and I often have to admit that they are right. I feel ashamed and cannot but try to make things right others have made worse, and continue to do so.

I will continue to follow my heart on the path of my soul, and this involves riding as well as being a part of nature. And I do not think it´s a contradiction. Tire tracks will heal with time, even stunts would be okay, but you have to know where, when and how you do it. If you love nature, you want to get to know more of it, and if you know, you will have your fun in a manner that does not ruin too much. But this is not a post for the morons. It´s a post about silent joy. It´s a post about feeling flow on a singletrail as well as sitting on a stump and having a sip of tea, savouring the sun, and a gentle breeze in early spring, listening to the birds singing and feeling the sap rising. The morons will never understand. They are too busy posting the weight and mass and colour of their morning shit on facebook or what´s app to simply sit back silently. Language? Quite truly so, but that´s the only jargon they understand.

I have always been different to them, I never had a part in their business. Mountainbiking has been my vehicle into the other world, to get there faster, there, where I was born and where I belong. I am a different being, and have more in common with an oak or birch or a hare or fox or the wandering hunter´s moon than I have with their world. As an infant, my lullaby was the song of the breeze in the soft treetops of spruce and fir, and the hooting of owls and the cry of the buzzard was more important to me than the latest top ten pop song.

I will no longer partake in a world where I don´t belong, at least not more than I must, and I will become stranger and wilder still.

 I arrived in the grove with all thoughts run out, as it well should be, for these thoughts are poison. Death it is to insult a poet, death, to love him, and to be a poet means death also. He who knows must not ask, he who asks, knows not. So, I left all these thoughts to the breeze and the light and the eraly scent of spring, wafting through the birch grove ever so gently. Down I sat with my back against a birch tree, and sipped my tea.

 I took out my two latest projects, two Kopis knives, that will fit in the concept of "Grimsarksberarmál", a poem and a story I have in the making, given by the wandering moon and a feather of the cat-owl;-). The topmost knife is made from Zwissler damascus with a wild pattern, which I know nothing of, but it took a good temper. Below is a knife out of Wootz steel I found in the woods.

"Beyond the dream road through the iron wood

Lord of the forest made love to a faerie:

Silently the moon´s reflection in the water."

The hours passed in thought and without thought, and in reflection and meditation (others call that drinking tea;-)). Then it went a bit cold, and I went over to the birch I tapped and got me a bottle of sap and fixed a fresh one to it. Oh the loot:

And I rode home with freed shoulders.

Torture testing my new knives and talking a pile of rubbish as usual

So here they come, some small clips (of lousy quality, of course, uncut and cut-off, I know you liek it rustic;-)) of me sitting in the woods and doing harm to some examples of insult to the idea of a knife;-). First comes the bushcraft knife I made recently and of which I have already posted a clip of testing the tip strength. I first did some chopping (aged and dried beech wood). It chops quite well, as I thought, due to the offset angle of the handle.

Then it was checking for sharpness, cutting paper. The paper I brought with me in my rucksack and it had been raining a bit, so it was, while not wet through, slightly clammy. The knife did well enough cutting through it, but there is still room left for improvement. Guess I have to work on my normalizing before heat - treating still. As is, it´s shaving sharp, but not hair - splitting sharp.

And this is some testing of my new En - Nep fully integral. I am quite fond of it, for in this case the tempering is spot - on. It´s also withstanding a load of abuse, including some 80 kg of fat-arsed Fimbulmyrk;-):

I want to emphasize that this is gross abuse of a knife. Do. Not. Try. This. At. Home. At least not with a run-of-the mill production knife.

The spine came out straight after this. I then tested the tip strength in my usual manner. It came out unscathed, and I really, really like it. Must I mention that I took all of my rubbish (paper) home again?;-)

So, why do I do this? The answer is simple: I simply think you cannot get better without a challenge. And I want to work on my consistency. It´s getting there, but I have high standards, and I want my very own no-frills, hardcore bushcraft knife that I can rely on 100%, and that I can replicate at will. It´s still some way to go, but I think I am on the path. And when I have the monosteel wired, I will then work even more on laminate steel, damascus and self-made wootz steel. I then hopefully have enough years left of my life to someday be able to forge a sword worthy of a tale and a testing. That´s my goal.;-)