I know a bit about axes, having hewed, split and chopped a house-sized load of firewood over the years. Here's an article I published a few years ago. Hope it's not too long.
Name the single most essential piece of equipment for a wilderness survival situation. No, not a knife, sleeping bag, lighter, GPS receiver, cell phone or case of MRE's. The answer is, an ax. Preferably a portable, well honed single bit of at least three quarter length. While not the best device for delicate tasks... you're better off shaving with your BiC... pure physics, the leverage of the handle combined with the wedge-shaped bit, make the ax the most versatile hand-wielded cutting tool.
The wilderness's most bloodthirsty foes are best combated with a bottle of DEET and a good mosquito mesh. A three or four inch knife blade is sufficient for 98.9% of all the needs and outdoorsman normally faces; 1% calls for an even smaller blade (pulling splinters, snakebite surgery, etc.) , and the remaining .1% only happens to Rambo, Conan, and Crocodile Dundee, .1% of the time (if that).
No other cutting tool from multi-bladed Swiss Army pocketknife to the formidable kukri can equal the utility of the ax. Stone ax heads have been found all over the world, in pratically every culture; it's one of Mankind's earliest tools. With an ax you can chop and split firewood, slice bacon, clean and skin game, open cans, pare your nails (carefully), build a raft or a cabin and slice pizza. You can shave with one, too, if you're patient enough to hone it, like Queequeg's harpoon, and have a steady hand. As a last-ditch defensive tool, an ax is a fearsome weapon. They have been carried into combat for eons, from ancient Rome to Vietnam.
Several decades ago, a prospector friend of mine and some companions took an ill-considered shortcut in the mountains which now are part of Wells Gray Park, British Columbia, and found themselves trapped in a crevasse between a glacier and a cliff face. They would be there still, or likely further down, if it hadn't been for their only ax, which they used to chop a tunnel out to the face of the glacier. Then they used it to cut footsteps along the 45 degree glare ice to safe ground. Sweating all the way.
Ernest Hemingway knew the value of a good ax. In Green Hills of Africa, while hacking a trail through heavy brush with a panga, the African machete, he wished for "a Michigan double-bitted ax, honed razor-sharp, to chop with instead of this sabering of trees." Even American poet Walt Whitman, though admittedly not as macho as Hemingway, celebrated the ax in Song of the Broad-ax. A callused tie maker might have taken a less romantic view of the tool, but many a homesteader hewed the floorboards for his cabin with a broad-ax, a huge, one-bevelled, battle-ax sized single bit with an offset handle. An expert could plane a log so cleanly that it looked as if it had been machine squared. Not more than two generations ago, the millions of railroad ties that spanned Canada were squared by broad-ax and adz, which is merely an ax with the cutting edge rotated 90 degrees.
There used to be dozens of U.S, manufacturers making scores of different ax patterns: for instance, the Puget Sound double bit falling ax, with an extra long head (from edge to edge) with thin cutting edges, ideal for notching a big Douglas fir. Then there were the Lippincott, California swamper and California falling patterns, and many others.
A century ago, skilled blacksmiths forged axes by hammer welding a "bit" of hardened steel into an iron head. These were capable of taking an incredible edge, but the hard steel could chip or shatter if anything harder than wood were struck. When working in bitter cold, old-time loggers would heat the bits with a candle before beginning work. Once chopping began, friction would keep the steel warm, not to mention, the logger. Today's better axes are forged from a single piece of steel and appropriately heat treated. Don't waste your money on any ax advertised as being formed from cast steel.
Every competent horse wrangler prizes his razor sharp single bit, and would sooner loan his toothbrush. Veteran off-road drivers won't willingly venture off the road without an ax. It's a fail-safe backup to the chainsaw. My preferred car ax is a double-bit Iltis swamper, designed for slicing branches off felled trees. Shorter and lighter than a full-sized Michigan double-bit, its thin blade is designed for cutting, not splitting. Its 2 1/4 lb. head is 10" long from edge to edge and has a 5 1/4" face. None-the-less, it can accomplish any chore an ax is suited to, including hewing through in relatively short order an 18" diameter tree which had fallen across the road while I was fishing along the Bella Coola River. A chainsaw would have been faster, but no more effective. The same ax has been used for field dressing deer and moose, and as a cleaver for butchering big game.
In my Trapper Nelson backpack goes a three-quarter size single bit Iltis, its edge protected by a sturdy leather sheath secured with copper rivets. Its heavy, 2 1/2 lb. head is 6" wide at the face and 7 3/4" deep: a formidable tool. It's been used to cut and split firewood, pound tent pegs, and to quarter a moose. The 18" handle makes it easy to pack, although more dangerous than a longer handled ax: you're more likely to shear a leg with a short ax or hatchet because you're cutting closer to yourself. Even better for backpacking is the venerable Hudson's Bay single bit, with a one and three-quarter pound head. It's far more useful than a short hunter's hatchet, and only a few ounces heavier.
Australians developed a heavy single bit design, often forged in stainless steel, specifically for chopping hardwoods. These tools are two or three times larger and heavier than an ordinary single bit, almost broadax size, and are prized by North American loggers who compete in log chopping contests. These experts send dinner plate-sized chips flying while standing on a log in their caulk boots, chopping between their feet, a feat not recommended for the novice. However, these specialized tools are not practical for general use on the North American continent.
Practically every hardware store offers a variety of axes; typically, they're about as sharp as a butter knife and not much more useful until sharpened. Most axes sitting in a dusty corner of the tool shed or the garage answer this description. To be used efficiently and safely, an ax requires a keen edge; not as thin as a knife blade, which would fold under the first impact, but just as sharp. It's not difficult to hone an ax shaving keen with only a file and a small hone.
The Boy Scout manual points out the right way to file an ax. The ax should be propped or clamped edge upwards. A double-bit can be sunk into a handy stump, but more ingenuity is required for a single bit. When there isn't a vise handy, lay the single bit edge-up against a chunk of firewood half as thick as the depth of the blade, and pound in a couple of stakes, one at the butt, another behind the head, to hold it in place. A foot on the handle holds it firmly. To file the other side, just flip the ax around and place the firewood chunk in front of the other stake.
It's a good idea when filing an ax to wear heavy gloves or to shield your fingers by punching the tang of the file through some sort of shield: a can lid, piece of plastic, heavy cardboard or leather. Beginning about an inch and a half back from the edge, carefully file down to the edge from the toe to the heel of the blade. This provides an appropriate bevel for good cutting. If only the edge is filed, eventually the blade will take on a bevel too thick to sink deeply into the wood, and will be useful only for splitting. I have read that some veteran axmen deliberately leave one bit of a double-bit ax thicker for splitting and chopping roots or other rough work, and hone the other razor sharp for cutting clean wood. However, I've never met one. A mattock or a Pulaski -- firefighter's tool with one ax blade and an adze blade on the other end -- are more appropriate for that kind of abuse.
If the blade is seriously worn down, you might have to start filing even further back from the edge. A session with a powered grinding wheel may be necessary, rather than spend an inordinate amount of time filing. The big old grindstones, propelled by a foot treadle, are all but gone now, but they avoided overheating the steel. A power grinder is just as good, if you're careful not to allow the heat generated by the friction of grinding to build up and destroy the temper of the steel.
Work both sides of the bit evenly until you achieve a noticeable burr, which occurs when both planes of the edge meet. Then take a small whetstone (and bearing in mind that a sharp edge will slice your fingers just as neatly as a tree trunk), stroke along the edge until the burr disappears. Your ax should then be sharp enough to shave.
When choosing an ax, examine the handle carefully. Some come with fiberglass handles; there's little to worry about with those. Hickory is the preferred wood for ax handles. Avoid handles in which the grain is disguised by paint; you won't be able to detect a flaw until the thing breaks. The grain should be aligned with the plane of the blade, and should follow the line of the handle, whether straight (double-bit) or curved (single bit). There should be no splinters.
Many handles are seated with injected thermoplastic, which is an excellent way to secure the head. Others use the traditional wooden wedge, sometimes with smaller steel wedges planted crosswise. If a wood-wedged ax head begins to work loose, sometimes it can be tightened up by soaking it in a bucket of water overnight. This is a temporary measure, however, and eventually the wedge will have to be re-seated or replaced. It's a good idea to secure the head by drilling a hole through the blade and pinning it with a tight-fitting pin which is cut off and filed even.
Most handles are too rough to use, straight from the store, and paint or varnish finishes are hard on the hands. When fitting a new handle, sandpaper or scrape the finish off, and then apply a couple of coats of boiled linseed oil or tung oil, which is more water-resistant. The oil protects the handle against moisture and splitting, and looks handsome, too. Apply a new coat as needed.
When chopping, make sure there is nothing in the vicinity to catch your blade, such as a branch or a strand of wire. Steel-toed boots and eye protection will provide more than peace of mind. Well-fitting gloves will help protect your lily-whites from blisters, but loose or stiff gloves can cause you to make a mis-stroke.
The key to safe ax work is to always have something between you and the edge of your ax. A chopping block is handiest for splitting, of course. In the bush, firewood can be leaned up on the opposite side of a log between you and the target. Firewood smaller than stump size doesn't have to be struck on the end to split. Strike at the side of the target piece, far enough down from the end so that it doesn't flip up and strike you in the face. A handy way to split smaller pieces of wood and kindling is to gently tap the blade into the side of the piece; then, with both hands holding the firewood against the ax handle, smack it onto a log or stump. Bracing the wood with one hand and chopping with the other is a technique for aspiring amputees. When you get into really big, or tough, twisted wood, a splitting maul or a steel wedge and a sledge hammer are called for. With these handy tools, I've split slabs of spruce seven feet across into chunks small enough to pack into the Land Cruiser. Two slabs filled the vehicle. Once home, an old, worn-down double-bit made short work of the chunks.
A double bit is a handy tool, and its extra weight makes it ideal for splitting. Don't sink it into a log and walk away when you're done, however; the exposed blade is an accident waiting to happen. Lean it against something, head down, or lay it flat where no one can stumble on it and slice a foot. Better yet, sheathe the blade. A section of tough old hydraulic hose slipped over the edge(s) makes a convenient sheath. A steel can hammered flat makes an effective (though inelegant) guard. You may be able to find a plastic sheath like those made for ice skates, or make your own from heavy leather and copper rivets.
When lopping branches, always cut toward the top of the tree to keep the ax from binding in the crotch. On a felled tree, first cut the branches on the opposite side, keeping the trunk between you and the edge, then cross the tree and repeat. It's handiest to leave the branches on the bottom on to support the trunk off the ground, particularly if you plan to saw or chop the trunk into firewood.
As a general rule, if you're planning to chop through a thick piece of wood which will take more than a couple of strokes, begin by cutting a notch at least as wide as the tree is thick. That will leave sufficient room to hew through the trunk without the ax binding in the cut. Work from both sides of the tree, always keeping enough wood between you and the ax edge to save your shins.
Don't chop with all your strength; let the ax do the work. Putting all your effort into a stroke sacrifices accuracy and safety. The best axemen (or axewomen, in this age of equality) make it look effortless, like all good athletes.
If you've forgotten your Swiss Army knife and need to open a can, use the ax to cut an "X" across the top, then bend back the flaps (carefully).
Treat your ax with the respect and care any fine tool deserves, and it will serve you well.
