The birth of a seax-gone off my rocker just a tiny bit;-)

Once upon a time, when steel was not abundant, there was an unknown smith working for the predecessor of the Funcke corporation, which later made saws and spades and the like industrially. He lit up forge and began to strike the iron to refine in the forge what came to him as bog iron. He folded the material unto itself many times to drive out the slag, and he made the raw material for a tool. Then he might have done some carburizing with the billet he in such manner received.

Then something went wrong, and the billet was forgotten. The smithy was closed, and the remaining material taken to fill the trails in the near woods, which belonged to the Funcke family since many generations. There, submerged in the dark and once rich soil, it rested, and wind and weather passed upon it. Rain beat upon it, as did the sun, and the seasons passed like days over this steel. And it waited. It had not forgotten the fiery heat of the forges´flames, and in spite of cold and toil of winter, there, deeply vibrating in its innermost elemental heart, there was the force of the song still. The song of flames it was, and the ringing, singing song of hammer upon anvil, and even below, there was another song... and this was the song of steel itself, crying violently in utter silence, a dragon´s scream.

It was a moonlit night in winter (No, really, it was!;-)) when I was on a walk returning home. The forest was enchanted, and there was no snow yet, but there were the flowers of frost shining like elven stars in the twilight, delicately yet with a fierce glow to it. It is strange, that sometimes you just walk there laughing, even if it´s dark, and sometimes, on some rare few occasions, there is something different. This was one of those nights. It was the night when I found this billet, half embedded in the ground. It took some real work to get it out, but it has spoken to me ever since. I took it home, and it rested for two years on a shelf not doing anything, even forgotten some time.

Then I went for a winter walk into the frozen hills, to a most ancient tree, and the inspiration came to me to forge a seax to express my feelings towards the atmosphere of my true home, the place where the Saxons were born, and where Widuchind fought his battles against the upcoming Christian belief. It were the Seax that gave the name to the tribe, and I wanted to forge one myself. One that meant a song to be sung. A myth to be born.

My family, as far it can be traced back, has either Saxon as well as Frankish roots. It were the Frankish that brought the belief of peace by slaughtering men, women and children, and doing this to the Saxons by beheading them on the wood of the "Irminsul", their holy tree. Please note that this is not a rant against Christian belief or any belief whatsoever, for the Saxons where no stranger to some plain old bloodshed either.

But the Seax was a tool for them, and to me it means more than just a knife. It is ambiguous, as many long knives are. It carries the potentiality of death as well as life. It carries the potential of hate as well as love. I want to express the love for those hills with this work, for the mentality of those strange bastards that live there;-). And I will give a hint, that, as Widuchind did in times long passed by, there is the potential of rebellion as well.

When the NSDAP gained reign over Germany, many people of the Sauerland region (those hills of home) just kept on doing what they did. Some even met in secret, and some let common sense hinder many cruel deeds. They were even more conservative than the fascist bastards, mind you, but some good came from that. I am proud that my family belonged to those who tried a mild resistance in those days, meeting in secret for sessions of the Socialistic Democratic Party (SPD). And NO, I am not a communist, nor a socialist, nor a fascist.
(i have a deep suspicion towards words ending on -ism, -ist, -istic, -ology and the like, they nail me down and do not allow any movement any more)

I believe their power, the power of those people came from the dark and rich soil and gave them the guts to carry on, not because they wanted to be heroes. Some peasants even were members of the NSDAP and managed to undermine many cruel deeds still, but not because they wanted to. They were rooted in the soil, and their common sense did not allow them to go off their rocker as many people in the cities did. (that´s not to say all of the city people were mad!). Please forgive me, if I miss the mark to express my feelings. It´s a very difficult topic for me, but one that belongs to being German-unfortunately. I studied "Rune - Lore" at Bochum University with Prof. Dr. Else Ebel for some years, and I loved it. I had to explain to anyone and everyone I were no fascist just for this fact, just because a madman with a funny moustache got his dirty fingers tangled in things he did not half understand fifty years ago! Rant over and out;-).

 I want you to know, that, even if we are headed into a very similar direction as the fascist movement in those days (forbidding raw milk and investigating that with SWAT teams), there is a kind of rebellion that is always possible; a power rooted in the soil. The same powers that stood behind the NSDAP try to gain dominion again, and now they are doing this worldwide and in a much more subtile way.

In the dark and rich soil there lies submerged the screaming steel, long neglected or even forsaken. But it remembers the searing flames, deep in its heart.

There is no fathoming the dark earth, the ancient hillsides, the ever-growing trees. Even if they could be destroyed, or forbidden, the wind will still blow, and the sun will still shine, and there will always be room for common sense, for dreams, and for love, and for the simple, good things in life. And out of the feeling of love I set out to Volker´s place to give a form to that ancient billet, which you can see in the picture above. It is not tempered yet, and I have to do some filing and sanding and have to drill in some rivet holes. No power tools here, I hope...

Lóme autánen, utulié n aure! (Night shall perish, (for) day will be!(Elvish by J.R.R.Tolkien, free after: The Silmarillion)

Many of you readers are freaks in a strange world. Do not forget you´re right about the woods, about the trees. Do not forget the dark soil in your soul, and maybe it takes over sometimes, leaving you hopeless.

There´s steel, and there´s fire in the dark.  


Borne on cinders,
Flint and tinder,
The wind descends unto the shades of grey.

Ashen grey,
Sinking day,
A roaring cry beyond frosty realms.

Born in embers,
Ice and fire,
Rising high the salmon in the river red,

Come now hither,
From the ashes,
Spirit of steel, I invoke your cry!

Borne on cinders,
Fire´s kindred,
Ancient steel
Becomes a blade.

(Fimbulmyrk) 

Just a little thank you.

I just want to make known, that I owe some people from the blogs I follow quite a lot. All the blogs I follow have contributedto my life and influenced my train of thought. That will remain exactly that: My train of thought, and sometimes a bit weird.

Thanks especially: Joel,  John,  Todd,  Perkunas! You know who you are!;-)

Some thoroughly enjoyable reading about Gorkha culture

I came across this website some years ago, and it has changed my life a lot. It has given me new perspectives, and the joy of using a Khukhuri myself.

I want to write this in memory of Bill Martino (Uncle Bill) who was a brave man and an old and wise spirit in this world who has contributed to make this world a better place.

Have a look yourself and build your own opinion:

http://www.himalayan-imports.com/

And, remember, thatNepali culture is currently being severely oppressed.

Some stump sitting and spoon carving

Today there was some fine weather, and I got a day off, so I decided to look after the birch I tapped, and maybe do some´crafting;-) and general stump sitting. So I made a flask of tea, packed something to whittle and to eat, saddled my steed and made for the woods. The weather was fine as I started, and I rode through the forest in dazzling, pale sunlight for about one and a half hour. Climbed a fire road to the mountain peakie (it´s called "Wahl", and there´s an airbase for Cessnas on top of it). Then it was some fireroad downhill to one of my favourite places, a light birch forest. Along the trail I found a pieceof beech, a little rotten and decided it would make a fine noggin. Set up"camp";-) and had a cuppa and then it was out with the Moras. The weather, however, soon deteriorated, but no harm done.

I quickly had to learn my would-be noggin was rotted through. I carved away all the rotten parts, and I think I will simply fit a separate bottom out of dry wood for it to shrink against it, and left it at that. had some birch wood with me to carve a BIG spoon, and started that, too.

It´s sort of funny, how quickly you get in a meditative mindset when sitting on a stump and just whittling away. It was just me, and the trees, and the lake, and the bloody rain;-).From time to time I just took a sip of tea, and had a sandwich and some apples, but most of the time it was this subconscious state of mind you achieve by just being and breathing through. It was calming, and soothing, to just sit there.   

That´s the spoon. The top knife is "Skogsrunarminni" (I remember the runes of the forest), a laminate bladeI forged at my old home, with a dirt forge. The ferrule is aged and peened copper, the handle carved reindeer antler. My old home is just some 400 m away from that place.I found that quite a funny experience, even if it´s not hurting as badly any more as it used to. Below is a Mora spoon knife. There are people believing that Moras are crap, for they come in so cheap. I can´t relate to that at all. It´s one hell of a knife, and the only reason I want to forge one myselfis that I...ummm... want to forge one myself;-)? 

Anyway, I whittled the hours away, and thought, and let my mind wander, and had some tea and some food, and punched another hole in my tapping system, and sat on a stump, and got wet through, and remained sitting on my stump, had another tea and thought some more.

Then I decided it was getting bloody cold, and did some funny jumping to warm up for the bastard of a trail that passes there, and did some stretching and flexing my hands and lowered the saddle as far as it would go, and had some severe smiling as I rode down that trail, too.

Some bushy ride with Bastian;-)

Was in the mood, and just called Bastian, less of a moron from our team ;-) if he was in the mood for some plain old ride. That guys a very friendly and laidback type with no problems whatsoever at all and no stranger to some `crafting as well. We met on the other side of the hill and made for the molehill mountains to get in some scenery and some plain old fun. On one of our favourite trails there was a fallen tree blocking it and we thought to have some fun with it. Unfortunately we had not many tools, just our knives, but no loss at all, made a spade by sharpening a length of wood and put some sticks andsome loam on the fallen tree.

That´s a spade, and below the jump we made with it.

and that - hopefully - is the vid of Bastian jumping it. Looks like goof, but wasn´t at all. After having fun with it, we unmounted it again and left it in the state we found it.

Some good honest work;-)

From my springtime hike and hug-a-tree endeavour;-) I went to Kai´s. he had some 3 to ;-) of wood to be chopped, a good excuse to bring out the blades and doing some exercise. By the pic you can estimate the dimension of the logs to be chopped. Kai, the absolute madman, did that with a hatchet, for his axe was utter crap. I messed up making a photo of mine, but it was good fun splitting the wood. We had a great time and some mad jokes, and I got myself a piece of birch wood that wants to be a kuksa or a BIG spoon. It was some three hours of muscle burning, and some really quality food and quality time with quality people.

Think we´ll do that again, eh?;-)

Springtime hike

Now we all have been feeling it coming for some time now;-), but it´s coming ever so nearer. The days are getting longer and longer now, and warmer, too. Now I like winter quite a lot, but I also like this time of year, when the ice is literally breaking, and the power of life itself springs up likea fountain, almost violently breaking the manacles of wintertime. And plants are sprouting, and one can´t help but feel  the rise of sap, not only in nature, but in one´s self. It is time for starting things, for feeling alive. It is a time when you can feel the green coming in spite of many things still grey and dead; but as it is, the green that springs upcan be recognized even more clearly. Fausitiais in blossom,
as are crocus and snowdrop, and the willow is blooming

with its delicate flowers, gentle to the touch.

So I packed my rucksack and made for the hills, starting behind my door. I saw many delicate wonders along the trail, one could easily pass by without notice. But it was so much I had to restrict myself... everywhere there were signs of new life, or of life sprouting undefeated by winter. It was like a metaphor or even a symbol to me; life will find a way, if in nature or in society. Man has done much harm, as has winter, but nature still is sprouting strong, in spite of pollution, in spite of the jaws of ice.

"If the birch will prosper, in spite of curse and littany, (..) then there is hope for the trees..." (Cád Goddeu)

And hope there is. Always. Even if it´s dark. Even if society of this human world loads your back with useless, pointless, meaningless burdens, and you are caught in the mill of doom as we all are. I like to remember this, even if it´s not as easy all the time. I like to hoard my treasures that I collected while sitting on a stump in spring, for the storms of winter, for the storms of doom.

This is truth; man will not succeed in doing permanent harm to life. Life will always find a way. There will be bears bearing cubs, there will be snowdrop sprouting. Or, even if all is destroyed, there is even nature on Mars.

This is comforting to me.

It was an atmosphere of utter joy,as I walked on, birds where singing everywhere. I sang a song myself, and smiled in solitude to the rhythm of my walking feet, treading lightly.

The willow in blossom! This is near the highway, where there´s junk and pollution and searing noise everywhere and no peace to be found, except in the simple blossom of the willow. I like this symbol ever so much more for the utter desolation of the place.








  
On the other side of the highway there is a small, neglected wood, and I came across this birch, maltreated by Mr. woodpecker gone off his rocker;-). I took a piece of green birch from a twig and sealed the hole, and I hope it will survive in spite of the wound.

This is the reason Mr. woodpecker got off his rocker; this birch is well inhabited... After doing so, I went on, for I had an appointment to keep... but that´s another story...;-).

New project: Broken back Hadseax

 This is a broken back Hadseax blade I forged some time ago. It´s made from a 300 layer/120 layer/ four bar damascus out of tank bearing and tank cannon steel by Matthias Zwissler. The tang has an angle to it to compensate for one flaw of the design: The cutting ability on flat surfaces. Have to flatten the convex bevel some and rework the fuller a bit, for I used power tools and did it free hand.

The handle will be either carved reindeer antler or a combination of birchwood burl and reindeer, or even a stag antler handle with a copper ferrule. I am still at it.

Tapping system for birch sap

 I had some talking with our local forest ranger and an old  Russian migrant, and they gave me some valuable hints on tapping a birch properly. First, I figured, I wanted a smaller hole, for the tree to heal faster. One should tap the birch in  stock height, the height the tree needs to survive even when cut. The hole should be angled downwards, for enough sap coming up to the tree´s crown. If you tap the birch, make sure there´s no severe pollution / contamination uphill (batteries, oil barrels and the like). Heavy Metal is great to listen to, but not so ideal as a drink...;-). Plus, the sap is not yet rising, and I have to ride one good hour to get to birchs that are not poisoned. So I decided I had to think up a closed system that could do with little service. Took

 a good length of sterile and neutral plastic tube, and a coke bottle I found in the youknowwhats;-). Drilled a hole in the lid and sealed that with Gaffa tape.

Bottle, drill and tube, plus a spare lid from another coke bottle I found in the (insert my favourite word).










Did a little fun ride with a friend of mine and did the tapping. I will check it tomorrow. As you can see, (or can´t see), we did some hiding. Around the place I placed some rugs sprayed with some hair spray to keep the wild pigs off (hope that worked). The spout was placed in the tree and fixed with Gaffa and zip-tied and hidden with some birchbark lying around.

Please note: The tree gives a gift to you. Treat it with respect in turn. Do not overdo it, and don´t forget to plug the hole after you tapped it with a little plug out of fresh birch wood (you wouldn´t want to sprout Octopus tentacles either, and that would be the case if you took some other tree standing nearby just for convenience.

Nessie´s nearly there...

 Soo, Nessie´s nearly finished. The bone handle (filled with epoxy, thanks, Joel) fitted and peened over a piece of brass tube. This one has to see some finishing, though. Saw it on some Moras and figured it would take the stress off the rivet area of the handle. Didn´t want to flatten the end of the bone, to leave it at a ... uuummm... bone appearance?;-) so some problems here. Will peen it down some, as soon I have made a tubular tool for that and do some peening on the tang or maybe I´ll just grind it down with a dremel.

 That´s a feat I like about the design. It makes cutting very controllable. as you can see, there are also some dents left I still have to remove... for they are plain ugly. The blade has some 58 HRC (tested that at a friend´s) at the edge and 42 HRC at the back.


  





I tend to forge ever shorter blades the more I use them. Now I am no stranger to some big brute of a chopper either, and I actually like Khukuris and seaxes a lot. But, as is, I also like to actually use my blades, and there´s some stinking law allowing criminals automatic weapons (by not pursuing thoses cases thoroughly enough) and forbide law abiding citizens the socially adequate use of knives, rant over and out.

But there´s also another reason. It´s quite difficult to make a long knife a compromise between nimble handling and chopping ability. That´s quite a tricky feat, and I am no swordsmith (yet). Also, for heavy chopping tasks an axe or hatchet gets the job done much better than a medium-sized knife (Khukuris and seaxes being exceptions). I am working on that, just for the challenge;-) and to learn swordsmithing. But as an EDC, a shorter blade can do a big job. By batoning it through a piece of wood you could even equal a hatchet, if you look for stright grain.

I tried it out, and I am quite sold on the Nessmuk design. It makes a great knife for snacking, for skinning and producing thin shavings of wood. Carving, a seax or recurve design or one with less of a curve to the edge, does better, because the material to be cut off is gathered up by the straight or recurve edge. Less of a curve would be a good compromise. I am thinking about that.