- Joined
- Oct 25, 2004
- Messages
- 3,178
I was doing some cleaning and reorganizing the other day in my room. (Don't tell anybody - I have a reputation to uphold here.) I almost look forward to these cleanings because of all the great stuff I find. Granted, it's stuff that I've already purchased and owned, but when something's missing for a month or two you can forget that you had it and finding it again is almost like winning a prize.
The Cherokee Rose hadn't been lost...not really. It was hanging up, in the back, under the UBE, behind a sword or two, in the corner that I hang things in when I'm not planning on using them. If someone had asked me where I'd put it I probably would've remembered but if the same person had asked me when I'd last cut something with it I would've had a hard time answering - February, I think. Or was it January? I don't remember.
I felt bad for the thing. It had been a great knife, well designed, well executed, but it hadn't been what I'd needed. After spiffing up the handle, bluing the blade, and doing a little cutting with it it had basically been retired, superceded by swords, a BGRS and a FF. I figured that I ought to do a bit of cutting with it while I was thinking about it but I'd need to work on it first.
It was dull; it had been sitting for the better part of a year unoiled. The last time I'd sharpened it had been before I'd owned the belt sander so I'd have to do her up right. I didn't like that bluing anymore, either - I like my women just fine without makeup and I prefer my knives the same way. The bluing would have to go, and since I was probably going to have to sand it off, why not go ahead and try a hybrid polish on it?
The bluing was a PITA to remove. The hybrid polish wore me out. I wound up quitting at #1000 and just proceeding straight to the etch, and forget about using vinegar - it got the PCB etchant, just like all of my other blades do. Some more polishing, some more etching, some more sanding. My "get it ready for tomorrow" job turned into several days. This morning, the Rose was sharpened on a belt sander for the first time. She was looking real good.
I performed some "dry firing" drills. Blade heavy but fairly neutral, solid, more maneuverable than I remembered. That last time we'd cut together I'd nicked myself a few times and our performance on the recyclables hadn't been particularly noteworthy. My arm has trained quite a bit since then. Was I that much stronger now? Or was the Rose finally a willing partner?
We went out back and I decided to skip the recyclables. That mooring line was still hanging out there and I had yet to sever it with a single swing from anything yet - even the Everest Katana needed two swings to get all the way through. I had a feeling that today was my day.
I cut that rope all right. Not just once, either. About every other time I went straight through with the Rose. When I didn't make it all the way through the second cut invariably did the job because I was striking exactly in the same spot as the first cut.
Thwack.
I eventually got tired of going back up on the deck every few swings to let down more rope. I guess I need more practice with that katana, huh?
Things like this get me to thinking sometimes. What changed here? I always liked the Rose but I never really wanted to use it for anything - there was always something else more appropriate, I wasn't any good with it, etc. Always an excuse to use something else, even if it was just recreational cutting. Perhaps there's a minimal skill level required before a larger Bowie feels correct; perhaps my arm needed to be stronger. This one always had an attitude...maybe the Rose didn't want me at first. Was I not ready for the Rose or was the Rose not ready for me? I may never know. I suppose that we get along just fine now.
In the meantime, I've got the best damned Bowie in the neighborhood and a lot of little pieces of mooring line in my backyard. Back off, fellas...I saw her first.
The Cherokee Rose hadn't been lost...not really. It was hanging up, in the back, under the UBE, behind a sword or two, in the corner that I hang things in when I'm not planning on using them. If someone had asked me where I'd put it I probably would've remembered but if the same person had asked me when I'd last cut something with it I would've had a hard time answering - February, I think. Or was it January? I don't remember.
I felt bad for the thing. It had been a great knife, well designed, well executed, but it hadn't been what I'd needed. After spiffing up the handle, bluing the blade, and doing a little cutting with it it had basically been retired, superceded by swords, a BGRS and a FF. I figured that I ought to do a bit of cutting with it while I was thinking about it but I'd need to work on it first.
It was dull; it had been sitting for the better part of a year unoiled. The last time I'd sharpened it had been before I'd owned the belt sander so I'd have to do her up right. I didn't like that bluing anymore, either - I like my women just fine without makeup and I prefer my knives the same way. The bluing would have to go, and since I was probably going to have to sand it off, why not go ahead and try a hybrid polish on it?
The bluing was a PITA to remove. The hybrid polish wore me out. I wound up quitting at #1000 and just proceeding straight to the etch, and forget about using vinegar - it got the PCB etchant, just like all of my other blades do. Some more polishing, some more etching, some more sanding. My "get it ready for tomorrow" job turned into several days. This morning, the Rose was sharpened on a belt sander for the first time. She was looking real good.
I performed some "dry firing" drills. Blade heavy but fairly neutral, solid, more maneuverable than I remembered. That last time we'd cut together I'd nicked myself a few times and our performance on the recyclables hadn't been particularly noteworthy. My arm has trained quite a bit since then. Was I that much stronger now? Or was the Rose finally a willing partner?
We went out back and I decided to skip the recyclables. That mooring line was still hanging out there and I had yet to sever it with a single swing from anything yet - even the Everest Katana needed two swings to get all the way through. I had a feeling that today was my day.
I cut that rope all right. Not just once, either. About every other time I went straight through with the Rose. When I didn't make it all the way through the second cut invariably did the job because I was striking exactly in the same spot as the first cut.
Thwack.
I eventually got tired of going back up on the deck every few swings to let down more rope. I guess I need more practice with that katana, huh?
Things like this get me to thinking sometimes. What changed here? I always liked the Rose but I never really wanted to use it for anything - there was always something else more appropriate, I wasn't any good with it, etc. Always an excuse to use something else, even if it was just recreational cutting. Perhaps there's a minimal skill level required before a larger Bowie feels correct; perhaps my arm needed to be stronger. This one always had an attitude...maybe the Rose didn't want me at first. Was I not ready for the Rose or was the Rose not ready for me? I may never know. I suppose that we get along just fine now.
In the meantime, I've got the best damned Bowie in the neighborhood and a lot of little pieces of mooring line in my backyard. Back off, fellas...I saw her first.
