- Joined
- May 9, 2002
- Messages
- 12,666
As I watched the rain roll down the window pane of my back door this morning, I couldn't help but allow my mind to wander. The early AM fog rising off the cool ground like a vaporous specter reminded me of the foot hills of Ireland my wife and I visited a few years back where thick low clouds would swallow the tops of the craggy peaks in a stark white as if God was painting a portrait of the landscape and decided to stop 4/5 of the way to grab a quick pint of the black stuff.
Of course, I'm not in Ireland, and I wasn't looking at mystical hills brimming with lore and history. I was looking out at the flat suburban backyard of my southern Indiana home. No, I'm not in Ireland, but that doesn't mean that a little bit of Ireland isn't left in me. I'm a Kelley after all
In addition to ties to the Isle of Erin, I've got a long and strong bloodline stretching back to the Saxons, the Francs, and the Germanic barbarians of old. My paternal grandmother's paternal family were French aristocrats who fled to England lest they met the guillotine. My great grandmother was from the East End whose family had roots in Britain so deep that there is no record of them every coming from anywhere else. My maternal great grandfather was a German immigrant, and my maternal grandfather's family were most likely originally Scottish melon farmers toiling in the soft sandy soil of the southern tip of the state.
I have no idea what inspired me to do, so but I sipped my coffee and watched the world wake up, the tendrils of wispy smokey vapor caressing the massive oak tree outside my window, I fetched my beloved HI Seax from my Trunk-O-Knives and turned it over in my hands. I have always enjoyed the design and solid construction of this knife. While not a "traditional" Seax which many who are hung up on things being 100% historically accurate may not appreciate it's slab-sided construction, but I have a gut feeling that any Saxon or Celt would be thankful for its robust build if all they had between themselves and a massive Viking raider's crushing weight was the stout 9" blade driven deep into his belly. A gut feeling, indeed Of course, both sides were more than happy to murder each other with the same kind of blade for centuries
This particular HI Seax is a older model. It's easily a decade old, but I think I may have gotten it around 2003 or so. It's from an earlier run and made by Kumar, and even without the markings you can tell it was his handiwork. Strong yet thin in the right places with a nice thin edge and a very good fit. I've used it as a camping and hiking blade many times over the years. It always seems to be the perfect balance between something that can handle most medium duty outdoor chores yet retains an acute tip fine enough for detail work. It's almost like a thousand+ years of design went into creating a knife that could serve multiple roles from eating meat to carving spear hafts to running enemies through
That said, there is a learning curve to the Seax. As most New Worlders, we are trained from a very early age that knives are supposed to come with cross guards to protect us from glancing blows and our own stabbing motions. Like our beloved Khuks, the Seax is a guard-less blade. You need to be very mindful to use the excellent palm swell to lock your grip onto the handle. You can't stab willy nilly into something, but then again, you really shouldn't do that with any knife. It's a weapon without training wheels. With the correct use and form, you'll be fine. Also, choking waaaaayyyy up on the handle means the the finest of fine work can be done even with a knife weighing in over a pound.
I know this post is another one of my typical long-winded and meandering treads that is light on substance or physical review, but the HI Seax is one of those blades that just need to be held in order to be appreciated fully. While it is a very useful design of form following function, one can't help but daydream of the sounds of stone on steel, honing trusty edges worn from countless conflicts in the early breaking dawn as war drums echo against the rolling crashing waves of the sea. The cadenced synchronized oars cutting through the water with brutal and practiced efficiency, a carved and dreaded dragon of wood and iron creeps closer painted with fearsome looming shadows of the new day twisted by heavy clouds of a promised storm. Invading boots will soon crunch under the gravel of the shore. Fire and death are assured unless tenacious blades hold true. Broken back knives with edged gouged held in the rough and ready hands sporting similar scars. Eyes fixed on the horizon of eerily glassy sea, a small but fierce army of needling steel teeth that will break against an impossibly formidable enemy. The lands may very well be lost, but not before blade pierces breastbone and at least a few bloody blonde beards lay cold as their life ebbs into the rolling green hillside, the highest of prices.
The HI Seax just fills me with wonder and stirs my imagination.
Here's a quick "emptying of the pockets" shot.
Of course, I'm not in Ireland, and I wasn't looking at mystical hills brimming with lore and history. I was looking out at the flat suburban backyard of my southern Indiana home. No, I'm not in Ireland, but that doesn't mean that a little bit of Ireland isn't left in me. I'm a Kelley after all
In addition to ties to the Isle of Erin, I've got a long and strong bloodline stretching back to the Saxons, the Francs, and the Germanic barbarians of old. My paternal grandmother's paternal family were French aristocrats who fled to England lest they met the guillotine. My great grandmother was from the East End whose family had roots in Britain so deep that there is no record of them every coming from anywhere else. My maternal great grandfather was a German immigrant, and my maternal grandfather's family were most likely originally Scottish melon farmers toiling in the soft sandy soil of the southern tip of the state.I have no idea what inspired me to do, so but I sipped my coffee and watched the world wake up, the tendrils of wispy smokey vapor caressing the massive oak tree outside my window, I fetched my beloved HI Seax from my Trunk-O-Knives and turned it over in my hands. I have always enjoyed the design and solid construction of this knife. While not a "traditional" Seax which many who are hung up on things being 100% historically accurate may not appreciate it's slab-sided construction, but I have a gut feeling that any Saxon or Celt would be thankful for its robust build if all they had between themselves and a massive Viking raider's crushing weight was the stout 9" blade driven deep into his belly. A gut feeling, indeed
Of course, both sides were more than happy to murder each other with the same kind of blade for centuriesThis particular HI Seax is a older model. It's easily a decade old, but I think I may have gotten it around 2003 or so. It's from an earlier run and made by Kumar, and even without the markings you can tell it was his handiwork. Strong yet thin in the right places with a nice thin edge and a very good fit. I've used it as a camping and hiking blade many times over the years. It always seems to be the perfect balance between something that can handle most medium duty outdoor chores yet retains an acute tip fine enough for detail work. It's almost like a thousand+ years of design went into creating a knife that could serve multiple roles from eating meat to carving spear hafts to running enemies through
That said, there is a learning curve to the Seax. As most New Worlders, we are trained from a very early age that knives are supposed to come with cross guards to protect us from glancing blows and our own stabbing motions. Like our beloved Khuks, the Seax is a guard-less blade. You need to be very mindful to use the excellent palm swell to lock your grip onto the handle. You can't stab willy nilly into something, but then again, you really shouldn't do that with any knife. It's a weapon without training wheels. With the correct use and form, you'll be fine. Also, choking waaaaayyyy up on the handle means the the finest of fine work can be done even with a knife weighing in over a pound.
I know this post is another one of my typical long-winded and meandering treads that is light on substance or physical review, but the HI Seax is one of those blades that just need to be held in order to be appreciated fully. While it is a very useful design of form following function, one can't help but daydream of the sounds of stone on steel, honing trusty edges worn from countless conflicts in the early breaking dawn as war drums echo against the rolling crashing waves of the sea. The cadenced synchronized oars cutting through the water with brutal and practiced efficiency, a carved and dreaded dragon of wood and iron creeps closer painted with fearsome looming shadows of the new day twisted by heavy clouds of a promised storm. Invading boots will soon crunch under the gravel of the shore. Fire and death are assured unless tenacious blades hold true. Broken back knives with edged gouged held in the rough and ready hands sporting similar scars. Eyes fixed on the horizon of eerily glassy sea, a small but fierce army of needling steel teeth that will break against an impossibly formidable enemy. The lands may very well be lost, but not before blade pierces breastbone and at least a few bloody blonde beards lay cold as their life ebbs into the rolling green hillside, the highest of prices.
The HI Seax just fills me with wonder and stirs my imagination.
Here's a quick "emptying of the pockets" shot.
