- Joined
- May 9, 2002
- Messages
- 12,686
As you may have read in my thread detailing the frantic situations where I locked my 9 month old daughter and myself out of both our house AND my truck, my trusty Tirtha bowie saved my bacon big time. While that was more of hands on story in which I used a big tool for a small job with a happy outcome, this morning I was gingerly brushed by some of that good ol' subtle HI magic that tends to pop up from time to time in our lives if we just pay attention.
This morning was the typical frantic rush. My wife is slightly under the weather which means that she DRAGS getting ready. Which means that I am later into the shower. Which means getting Evey ready is an even bigger bear...usually. However, today my little princess was being an angel, and despite our time crunch she gave Daddy ample time to not only brush his teeth and get dressed but actually pick out what knife he would like to carry today. Ain't she sweet
While I absolutely love my Tirtha Bowie, I am spending this week getting ready for a big sale at my shop and the bowie is just way too heavy to pack around. Over the weekend I modified a sheath I had made so that it would fit on my shoulder holster. It was originally built for my 15" Boomerang AK, but due to construction it will accept and hold pretty much any khuk heavy enough to stay upright. I experimented carrying both the Boomerang which felt just fine on my rig as well as my 15" ATSK which while heavier actually seated a little nicer to my chest. Both of them, due to their angle, we more comfortable for all day wear when picking up and moving things than the Tirtha Bowie.
Anyway, this morning as my little one was mesmerized by the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the TV, I began to debate which of these two brutes I was going to strap on. I opened up my Khuk drawer (yes, I actually have a drawer on my nightstand that holds a selection of HI products up to about 17"...it's a sickness, y'all know that and begin to think which one would be better for carry. As I was deciding, I caught a glimpse at an old yet painfully under used friend. I was met by the tarnished and vacant gaze of Old Sherpa.
Old Sherpa was a gift given to me by Yangdu a few years ago. If I remember correctly, she had spotted him on one of her long visits to Nepal and brought him home as a souvenir. An incredibly nice gesture
If it weren't for lack of markings, you would think this piece was a standard shop piece. Old Sherpa is basically some form of 12" Siru with a generous handle and a very keen blade.
The lines are clean and even. Obviously the big difference, and the reason for the name, is that in place of a standard buttcap there is a highly embossed face. Now, I'm certainly not up to snuff on my Hindu or Buddhism beyond a basic familiarity, so I have no idea who or what this face is supposed to represent. Hopefully without being offensive, the face always struck me as what a wizened old Sherpa might look like after a lifetime of trips up and down the mountains. If anyone actually recognizes this face, please fill me in
So on impulse I picked up Old Sherpa and exam him. I have always loved this knife and it is one of my favorite fondling khuks simply because it was a gift specifically brought back for me from Nepal. I pull him from his scabbard with a warm smile. Which quickly fades into an irritated frown...surface rust?:grumpy: How did I get surface rust on a cleaned and oiled blade. Sure, I hadn't looked at him in a good 6 months, but it shouldn't be humid in a glorified sock drawer. Well, this won't do.
The decision was made for me. I would take Old Sherpa with me to my office today and give him a clean up. The rust wasn't bad at all. A little elbow grease and some metal polish would have him good as new. I tested for fit in my shoulder holster...hey, not too bad He fits in there with a snug purchase AND he rides lower than the 15" knives making him a breeze to pack. I had to smile to myself and remember how Rusty used to talk about his 12" Siru dubbed Audrey. The name came from the fact that she was a blood thirsty little blade that ebbed a life of her own with a personality close to the meat-eating space plant from Little Shop of Horrors. Old Sherpa doesn't strike me as such. He's capable, sharp, and dependable. Yet, I sense a gentleness in the steel.
Anyway, Evey and I were finally off. As you may have heard, the Ohio River Valley has been PUMMELED by terrible rains, winds, near-tornadoes, and now massive flooding. Finding a way to Evey's daycare and then to work was going to be an undertaking. As we started on our quest, our first turn was greeted by a "Road Closed: High Water" sign held in place by two large orange sandbags. An alternative route it would be. There are about 3 different ways to get around the surrounding farm land and over to the edge of the city.
I tootled down a farm road. Luckily it was wide open without much damage or flooding. Then an urge hit me. Turn here. It was going to take me another 4 miles out of my way but it was undeniable. I took a left and drove along the opposite side of the farm, and followed along the bypass. As I look over through the fields I see my previous path. It's dry and perfectly fine. My flooding fears, my impulse, were wrong...until I get up to the next intersection.
There just 3 car lengths on a narrow road is a leaning wounded tree. A crippled arm of wood and bark nearly amputated by the twisting winds the night before was blocking my would-be path. This was out in the middle nowhere. The road crews are just working on keeping the main roads clear. No one would notice this for hours. Had I taken this path, I would have had to back my truck down a narrow double ditched country road for a quarter mile
I continued on still wondering what made me think to even TRY this out of the way detour. I get to another intersection and a strong urge tells me to turn and take the road around the obvious path. Figuring that things had worked out well for me so far, I followed the nudge. I looped around and came back at the next road. I peeked down the long stretch only to see that had I continued down the path, I would have been greeted with a late-to-the-party "Road Closed: High Water" sign. The road I would have taken was completely covered with a foot of water. A vast ocean of glass-like stillness drown the field and then spread across the road to begin devouring the next farm plot to the east. Basically, i would have come upon the sign and had to decide to try and back my big truck up the hill with no way of seeing any oncoming traffic or chanced driving through it. A stupid decision, but one I may have made out of desperation.
After that one, I was pleased to find the remaining roads were clear and easily traversed. There were patches of debris to swerve around and some pretty splashy large puddles but nothing my truck couldn't easily handle. I was going to be 20 minutes late to work, but it was no matter. I was just glad I avoided the massive pitfalls.
As I neared my daughter's daycare, I was feeling pretty calm and collected. I had checked, and my office staff was already there and accounted for. Being late was not going to sink my day. I got within 3 blocks of the daycare, and once again I was hit with the urge to turn off the beaten path. Now, this made no sense. I was squarely in the city now. However, the feeling was two for two. I looped around, cut through a supermarket parking lot, and came in a street over from the daycare parking lot. I was slackjawed.
The street I would have gone down was flooded with a backed up storm drain. I wouldn't have had too much trouble getting through it. However, a Dodge Neon had bitten off more than it could chew and choked out in water. The driver was safe, but had turned her car to try and turn around mid street...where it had stalled blocking both lanes of traffic.
Look, I'm a reasonable guy. But I do know that I tend to find magic in places where it by just coincidence. That said, I have a sneaking suspicion that I had a wise old Sherpa guiding me to and through the twisting and turning paths to a safe destination
btw, Old Sherpa cleaned up nicely. He's still riding on my shoulder as I type, and I'm REALLY hoping I don't need his services to get back home this evening
This morning was the typical frantic rush. My wife is slightly under the weather which means that she DRAGS getting ready. Which means that I am later into the shower. Which means getting Evey ready is an even bigger bear...usually. However, today my little princess was being an angel, and despite our time crunch she gave Daddy ample time to not only brush his teeth and get dressed but actually pick out what knife he would like to carry today. Ain't she sweet
While I absolutely love my Tirtha Bowie, I am spending this week getting ready for a big sale at my shop and the bowie is just way too heavy to pack around. Over the weekend I modified a sheath I had made so that it would fit on my shoulder holster. It was originally built for my 15" Boomerang AK, but due to construction it will accept and hold pretty much any khuk heavy enough to stay upright. I experimented carrying both the Boomerang which felt just fine on my rig as well as my 15" ATSK which while heavier actually seated a little nicer to my chest. Both of them, due to their angle, we more comfortable for all day wear when picking up and moving things than the Tirtha Bowie.
Anyway, this morning as my little one was mesmerized by the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the TV, I began to debate which of these two brutes I was going to strap on. I opened up my Khuk drawer (yes, I actually have a drawer on my nightstand that holds a selection of HI products up to about 17"...it's a sickness, y'all know that
and begin to think which one would be better for carry. As I was deciding, I caught a glimpse at an old yet painfully under used friend. I was met by the tarnished and vacant gaze of Old Sherpa.
Old Sherpa was a gift given to me by Yangdu a few years ago. If I remember correctly, she had spotted him on one of her long visits to Nepal and brought him home as a souvenir. An incredibly nice gesture
If it weren't for lack of markings, you would think this piece was a standard shop piece. Old Sherpa is basically some form of 12" Siru with a generous handle and a very keen blade.The lines are clean and even. Obviously the big difference, and the reason for the name, is that in place of a standard buttcap there is a highly embossed face. Now, I'm certainly not up to snuff on my Hindu or Buddhism beyond a basic familiarity, so I have no idea who or what this face is supposed to represent. Hopefully without being offensive, the face always struck me as what a wizened old Sherpa might look like after a lifetime of trips up and down the mountains. If anyone actually recognizes this face, please fill me in
So on impulse I picked up Old Sherpa and exam him. I have always loved this knife and it is one of my favorite fondling khuks simply because it was a gift specifically brought back for me from Nepal. I pull him from his scabbard with a warm smile.
Which quickly fades into an irritated frown...surface rust?:grumpy: How did I get surface rust on a cleaned and oiled blade. Sure, I hadn't looked at him in a good 6 months, but it shouldn't be humid in a glorified sock drawer. Well, this won't do.The decision was made for me. I would take Old Sherpa with me to my office today and give him a clean up. The rust wasn't bad at all. A little elbow grease and some metal polish would have him good as new. I tested for fit in my shoulder holster...hey, not too bad
He fits in there with a snug purchase AND he rides lower than the 15" knives making him a breeze to pack. I had to smile to myself and remember how Rusty used to talk about his 12" Siru dubbed Audrey. The name came from the fact that she was a blood thirsty little blade that ebbed a life of her own with a personality close to the meat-eating space plant from Little Shop of Horrors. Old Sherpa doesn't strike me as such. He's capable, sharp, and dependable. Yet, I sense a gentleness in the steel.
Anyway, Evey and I were finally off. As you may have heard, the Ohio River Valley has been PUMMELED by terrible rains, winds, near-tornadoes, and now massive flooding. Finding a way to Evey's daycare and then to work was going to be an undertaking. As we started on our quest, our first turn was greeted by a "Road Closed: High Water" sign held in place by two large orange sandbags. An alternative route it would be. There are about 3 different ways to get around the surrounding farm land and over to the edge of the city.
I tootled down a farm road. Luckily it was wide open without much damage or flooding. Then an urge hit me. Turn here. It was going to take me another 4 miles out of my way but it was undeniable. I took a left and drove along the opposite side of the farm, and followed along the bypass. As I look over through the fields I see my previous path. It's dry and perfectly fine. My flooding fears, my impulse, were wrong...until I get up to the next intersection.
There just 3 car lengths on a narrow road is a leaning wounded tree. A crippled arm of wood and bark nearly amputated by the twisting winds the night before was blocking my would-be path. This was out in the middle nowhere. The road crews are just working on keeping the main roads clear. No one would notice this for hours. Had I taken this path, I would have had to back my truck down a narrow double ditched country road for a quarter mile
I continued on still wondering what made me think to even TRY this out of the way detour. I get to another intersection and a strong urge tells me to turn and take the road around the obvious path. Figuring that things had worked out well for me so far, I followed the nudge. I looped around and came back at the next road. I peeked down the long stretch only to see that had I continued down the path, I would have been greeted with a late-to-the-party "Road Closed: High Water" sign. The road I would have taken was completely covered with a foot of water. A vast ocean of glass-like stillness drown the field and then spread across the road to begin devouring the next farm plot to the east. Basically, i would have come upon the sign and had to decide to try and back my big truck up the hill with no way of seeing any oncoming traffic or chanced driving through it. A stupid decision, but one I may have made out of desperation.
After that one, I was pleased to find the remaining roads were clear and easily traversed. There were patches of debris to swerve around and some pretty splashy large puddles but nothing my truck couldn't easily handle. I was going to be 20 minutes late to work, but it was no matter. I was just glad I avoided the massive pitfalls.
As I neared my daughter's daycare, I was feeling pretty calm and collected. I had checked, and my office staff was already there and accounted for. Being late was not going to sink my day. I got within 3 blocks of the daycare, and once again I was hit with the urge to turn off the beaten path. Now, this made no sense. I was squarely in the city now. However, the feeling was two for two. I looped around, cut through a supermarket parking lot, and came in a street over from the daycare parking lot. I was slackjawed.
The street I would have gone down was flooded with a backed up storm drain. I wouldn't have had too much trouble getting through it. However, a Dodge Neon had bitten off more than it could chew and choked out in water. The driver was safe, but had turned her car to try and turn around mid street...where it had stalled blocking both lanes of traffic.
Look, I'm a reasonable guy. But I do know that I tend to find magic in places where it by just coincidence. That said, I have a sneaking suspicion that I had a wise old Sherpa guiding me to and through the twisting and turning paths to a safe destination
btw, Old Sherpa cleaned up nicely. He's still riding on my shoulder as I type, and I'm REALLY hoping I don't need his services to get back home this evening
