If theres one thing about a nice little slip joint, it's that it can be anyplace with you as long as you have your pants on.
Over the years that I've carried different kinds of knives, there has been some minor emergencys along the way. And as fate would have it, very few of them happened when I had some big heavy duty knife with me. There was a period in my life when for a brief time, I liked big blades. In fact once upon a time I thought my Randall 14 was the end all of knifedom, but was never used for anything much more than could have been delt with by a much lesser knife. All I can say is that I plea temporary insanity. Thanks to some mentors like Andy Worden, this insanity was short lived. Today a bunch of old friends got together, and my old best bud Danny, told a story of an incident I had almost forgot about. It points out that the pocket knife you have with you is way better than the super survival knife back home, or even under the seat of the car a 20 minute walk back to the trailhead.
In 1982 my edc pocket knife was a Buck 301 stockman. I'd bought it at an army PX in 1967. I'm not sure if at that time they were still being made by Camillus, or Buck was really making them, but they were a rugged pocket knife. Anyways, the Saturday night before, Danny, his wife Lori, and me and my Karen made a date for very early the next morning to go on a before breakfast hike. The kids were on a sleepover at my sisters place so our friends and us decided to have a short hike down this one trail to a waterfall the next morning durring a snowfall to admire the wonderfull nature of the place. We would pack a thermos of hot chocolate and doughnuts.
The next morning we all got into Danny's Pontiac and drove the short distance to the parking lot next to a dam right on a major road. This was the heart of Montogomery County Maryland, suburbia all around this area of a little nature in the wooded area of the Northwest Branch. This branch was a large creek that flowed through a deep heavily wooded ravine that had a hiking trail along the creek. It was like an island of natural beauty in suburbia. We took our daypacks with our doughnut breakfast and a couple of space blackets apiece to sit on and eat while we watched the snow fall with the waterfall as a backdrop. Since we were in the heart of our home suburbs we did not bother taking survival kits and such.
All went well for the first 20 minutes of the walk. We headed deeper into the ravine and were almost at the waterfall destination when fate took a hand in playing a bad joke on us. We had planned on the half hour walk to the waterfall, doughnuts and hot chocolate, then out. Everything was great till Danny's wife Lori broke her leg.
The trail into the ravine was a steep boulder strewn twisting trail, and we had walked it numerous times. This morning the snow was hissing down and covering everything with a fresh coat of white snow. Danny was leading, Lori following, then Karen, then me. At one point we were crossing a slanting rock and thats when Lori slipped and slid down against another rock and yelled in pain. Danny had just crossed that part, and we figured if his 6'3" frame of 230 pounds made it, it was good. His 5' 3" inch wife did not. Lori had on good vibram sole boots with good waffle stomper tread. No matter, her leg was broke. We unlaced her boot and pulled up her pants leg, and the side bulge was unmistakble. It was a ridiculous situation. We were less than a half hour walk from our car, in a heaviely populated county just to the north of Washinton D.C. I mean, we could see lights of the houses up on the top of the ravine through the falling snow, but there was no way to get up there in the snowy conditions lugging a woman with a busted leg. We had a couple choices.
1. Send one person back to the car, they would have to drive to a phone and call the rescue squad. (no cell phones back then) By the time that happened and they found their way back to us would be over an hour.
2. Carry Lori out ourselves.
We chose two. Danny and I figured we were both army vets, had lots of field time and training, we could do this. Of course first thing was to make a litter. I had my Buck stockman. My good old Randall was back home. Danny had a Camillus MK2 under the seat of his Pontiac. Whoopie. He did have his edc pocket knife with him. A well used Victorinox pioneer. It was then I remembered my old scout master, Mr. Van.
Mr. Van had been a real pocket knife kind of guy. He had hammered it into us that all we ever needed was that pocket knife if we used our minds and technique rather than brute force. I told Danny and he understood. So while Karen dished up hot chocolate to Lori, Danny and I picked out a couple long sturdy saplings to cut for litter poles. Using the pocket knives we notched all around the base till we had deep v-grooves, and broke them off. Whittling off the branches took very little time, and before long we had poles to wrap up the edges of the space blankets to make a stretcher. Maybe 15 minutes. Carrying Lori out took a bit longer than going in. Danny took one end, and Karen and I took a pole apiece on the other end. It took a bit over a half hour to cover what only took 20 minutes going in. Back to the car, and it was another 15 minute drive to Holy Cross Hospital. We were proud of ourselves, and took the next 2 hours of waiting in the E.R. for Lori to make it to X-ray, and another hour for a doc to tell us yes her leg is broke. Funny thing that, it took us 45 minutes to make a strectcher with pocket knives and carry a lady out of a snowy ravine, and three hours for the medical staff of a modern ER to x-ray and put a cast on a clean break. I'll never understand technology I guess.
I hadn't thought of that incident for years till Danny was at our lunch party. Now that I think about it, just about every emergency I've had in my life that needed a cutting tool, a normal every day slip joint got the job done, even though a larger tool would have been nice, but was unavailable. Stockman, barlow, trapper, or a good sak, I don't think it rally matters much, as long as there's something sharp to cut with. And with the low profile of a slip joint, you can carry one just about anyplace short of an airplane.
And its funny what effect some people can have on you. I hadn't seen Mr. Van in thirty years when Lori broke her leg that snowy morning, yet when faced with an emergency I could hear his voice telling us 12 and 13 year old scouts "That 2 pound lump of gray stuff between your ears is your best tool. Use it!"
But then somebody like Mr. Van was hard to forget.
Over the years that I've carried different kinds of knives, there has been some minor emergencys along the way. And as fate would have it, very few of them happened when I had some big heavy duty knife with me. There was a period in my life when for a brief time, I liked big blades. In fact once upon a time I thought my Randall 14 was the end all of knifedom, but was never used for anything much more than could have been delt with by a much lesser knife. All I can say is that I plea temporary insanity. Thanks to some mentors like Andy Worden, this insanity was short lived. Today a bunch of old friends got together, and my old best bud Danny, told a story of an incident I had almost forgot about. It points out that the pocket knife you have with you is way better than the super survival knife back home, or even under the seat of the car a 20 minute walk back to the trailhead.
In 1982 my edc pocket knife was a Buck 301 stockman. I'd bought it at an army PX in 1967. I'm not sure if at that time they were still being made by Camillus, or Buck was really making them, but they were a rugged pocket knife. Anyways, the Saturday night before, Danny, his wife Lori, and me and my Karen made a date for very early the next morning to go on a before breakfast hike. The kids were on a sleepover at my sisters place so our friends and us decided to have a short hike down this one trail to a waterfall the next morning durring a snowfall to admire the wonderfull nature of the place. We would pack a thermos of hot chocolate and doughnuts.
The next morning we all got into Danny's Pontiac and drove the short distance to the parking lot next to a dam right on a major road. This was the heart of Montogomery County Maryland, suburbia all around this area of a little nature in the wooded area of the Northwest Branch. This branch was a large creek that flowed through a deep heavily wooded ravine that had a hiking trail along the creek. It was like an island of natural beauty in suburbia. We took our daypacks with our doughnut breakfast and a couple of space blackets apiece to sit on and eat while we watched the snow fall with the waterfall as a backdrop. Since we were in the heart of our home suburbs we did not bother taking survival kits and such.
All went well for the first 20 minutes of the walk. We headed deeper into the ravine and were almost at the waterfall destination when fate took a hand in playing a bad joke on us. We had planned on the half hour walk to the waterfall, doughnuts and hot chocolate, then out. Everything was great till Danny's wife Lori broke her leg.
The trail into the ravine was a steep boulder strewn twisting trail, and we had walked it numerous times. This morning the snow was hissing down and covering everything with a fresh coat of white snow. Danny was leading, Lori following, then Karen, then me. At one point we were crossing a slanting rock and thats when Lori slipped and slid down against another rock and yelled in pain. Danny had just crossed that part, and we figured if his 6'3" frame of 230 pounds made it, it was good. His 5' 3" inch wife did not. Lori had on good vibram sole boots with good waffle stomper tread. No matter, her leg was broke. We unlaced her boot and pulled up her pants leg, and the side bulge was unmistakble. It was a ridiculous situation. We were less than a half hour walk from our car, in a heaviely populated county just to the north of Washinton D.C. I mean, we could see lights of the houses up on the top of the ravine through the falling snow, but there was no way to get up there in the snowy conditions lugging a woman with a busted leg. We had a couple choices.
1. Send one person back to the car, they would have to drive to a phone and call the rescue squad. (no cell phones back then) By the time that happened and they found their way back to us would be over an hour.
2. Carry Lori out ourselves.
We chose two. Danny and I figured we were both army vets, had lots of field time and training, we could do this. Of course first thing was to make a litter. I had my Buck stockman. My good old Randall was back home. Danny had a Camillus MK2 under the seat of his Pontiac. Whoopie. He did have his edc pocket knife with him. A well used Victorinox pioneer. It was then I remembered my old scout master, Mr. Van.
Mr. Van had been a real pocket knife kind of guy. He had hammered it into us that all we ever needed was that pocket knife if we used our minds and technique rather than brute force. I told Danny and he understood. So while Karen dished up hot chocolate to Lori, Danny and I picked out a couple long sturdy saplings to cut for litter poles. Using the pocket knives we notched all around the base till we had deep v-grooves, and broke them off. Whittling off the branches took very little time, and before long we had poles to wrap up the edges of the space blankets to make a stretcher. Maybe 15 minutes. Carrying Lori out took a bit longer than going in. Danny took one end, and Karen and I took a pole apiece on the other end. It took a bit over a half hour to cover what only took 20 minutes going in. Back to the car, and it was another 15 minute drive to Holy Cross Hospital. We were proud of ourselves, and took the next 2 hours of waiting in the E.R. for Lori to make it to X-ray, and another hour for a doc to tell us yes her leg is broke. Funny thing that, it took us 45 minutes to make a strectcher with pocket knives and carry a lady out of a snowy ravine, and three hours for the medical staff of a modern ER to x-ray and put a cast on a clean break. I'll never understand technology I guess.
I hadn't thought of that incident for years till Danny was at our lunch party. Now that I think about it, just about every emergency I've had in my life that needed a cutting tool, a normal every day slip joint got the job done, even though a larger tool would have been nice, but was unavailable. Stockman, barlow, trapper, or a good sak, I don't think it rally matters much, as long as there's something sharp to cut with. And with the low profile of a slip joint, you can carry one just about anyplace short of an airplane.
And its funny what effect some people can have on you. I hadn't seen Mr. Van in thirty years when Lori broke her leg that snowy morning, yet when faced with an emergency I could hear his voice telling us 12 and 13 year old scouts "That 2 pound lump of gray stuff between your ears is your best tool. Use it!"
But then somebody like Mr. Van was hard to forget.
Last edited:
