FIELD NOTES / 04
FIELD NOTES / 04 : IF STORY WERE TANGIBLE
By Andri Elko
I love a beautiful knife. A Damascus blade. A burnished leather-stacked handle. Stabilized mammoth scales. Brass rivets and bolsters. Japanese chef knives. Finnish outdoor knives. A pocketknife bearing the marks of hard-earned wear.
There’s also just something extra special in a knife that’s been passed through generations. It feels heavy with story and experience when you hold it, almost like an artifact.
I won’t even start in on blade shapes and grinds and cultural influences. This world of ours has cultivated a kaleidoscope of beautiful attributes, components, mechanisms, materials, advancements and histories regarding cutting tools. I am not a blade expert by any means, but I do appreciate the crafting that goes into a well-made blade. Some are functional art, and others are simply functional. And if story were tangible, manual tools — like knives — become storytellers.
Flintknapped arrowheads come to mind. Or a grandparent’s rusted and aged (and probably initial-engraved) handsaw. Sometimes you find things at garage sales, thrift stores and pawn shops that just look like they once belonged to someone who held onto things a little longer than we tend to these days. It paints a picture in your mind of someone who had one good set of tools, who used that same set of tools for decades, if not longer. The kind of person who wears a knife on their leather belt, so routine that it’s almost a part of them — like wearing glasses or a wedding ring. They probably kept a toothpick in a shirt pocket too, like all the good ol’ cowboys do.
Our generation might not have that so much. We’re part of a consumer generation that’s fueled by built-in obsolescence and the shiny lure of newer and better.
I’m trying to harken back more, whittle down the excess, save what has both inherent simplicity and endurance, when I can. It’s not easy, but shucks, it sure seems like it should be.
So I try to buy and/or save based on materials that get better with time — which is almost always something that is only a few steps away from its origin e.g. leather, fur, wood, stone, clay, glass, metals and natural fibers. These materials feel more connected and real in some way, unlike plastics and other synthetics. But they also usually require more care — maybe that’s part of why we hold onto them longer.
There can be beauty in synthetic materials too. I‘ve seen that beauty revealed when discarded synthetic materials get repurposed into something new. I saw this in South African markets, where colorful plastic-sheathed telephone wire had been woven into extraordinary basketry. The world is full of this creative repurposing. It’s almost like a modern-day morphing of hunting, gathering, and harvesting.
Most recently, I saw this in beautiful bags called kalzngaq that a pastor friend used as an example of new-life in a sermon that he gave. These woven bags are gorgeous. Their Cup’ig makers walk the beach gathering strands of fishing-rope debris along the shores of Mekoryuk. They then weave them, one salvaged strand by one salvaged strand.
The result is an object of use — a utility bag. But it’s also so much more than that. It’s art, it’s love and care; it’s resourcefulness, resilience, and redemption. It’s beautiful. And it is tangible story that can be crafted, held and shared — and maybe even passed down.
All romanticism aside, and in getting back to cutting-tools — it’s hard to beat an efficient and affordable work horse. For our family, this is the RADA Stubby Butcher.
Here are some of its specs from the RADA website:
Blade length: 5 3/8"
Overall Length: 9 7/8"
Blade Steel: Surgical-Quality, T420 High-Carbon Stainless Steel
Handle material: Comes in options of Aluminum or Black Resin
Production: USA
Bonus: Comes with RADA’s Lifetime Guarantee
This knife is a do-all knife. I can fillet salmon with it, skin a beaver with it, chop veggies with it and slice my steak dinner with it. And, just as importantly — I can put an edge on it quickly with RADA’s awesome Quick Edge Knife Sharpener.
We use this knife for everything! Seriously.
I was packing my RADA knife and sharpener before heading up the river the other day, and it got me to thinking two things:
I was thinking how I wish RADA made a sheath for this knife.
I was thinking of ways to give this family-favorite a little extra love.
I can’t do anything about my first thought, except continue to find and make sheaths. I’ve made them from cardboard and tape when I needed something fast. Currently, I use a repurposed Rapala sheath that works very nicely. I’d like to make my own custom leather sheath someday, but haven’t gotten to that project yet.
For my second thought, I went into the shop.
From there, I grabbed a spool of marine fishing twine that is usually used for mending herring nets. This nylon cord is minimal, yet hardcore. It can handle a beating. Also, the ends can be melted with a lighter to avoid fray.
My hope is that this twine will offer some grip to my RADA Stubby Butcher handle. The added plus is that it also offers a subtle wink and tip-of-the-hat to our hometown fishing culture. I only wish I could have found the cool sea-green colored twine that we used to have on hand — I love that color.
This twine that I’m using today is just basic white. Well, maybe off-white now, because it’s old and tinted with time, dust and maybe a little garage grime. I suspect paracord would work well too, it’s a common knife handle material. I just don’t have any on-hand at the moment. Leather cord would be awesome, but again, none on-hand. So, old fishing twine it is!
I tried a few different whippings and wraps, but the best one I‘ve come to settle on is the wrapping method used for serving on a bowstring. This technique came out the best in terms of being the most uniform, tightest and comfortable to grip. It actually feels really delightful in my hand; the parallel wraps have a clean and cohesive texture. Aesthetically, it has hints of minimalist Japanese knife design elements.
This bow-serving method was also the easiest and safest to perform in comparison to the others that I tried on this fixed blade handle. It will also be quick and easy to replace when/if needed.
As for sharpening.
I tested the RADA Quick Edge Knife Sharpener on one knife’s edge. Then I tested the sharpener previously mentioned in Field Notes 03 on another knife’s edge.
The result: RADA put on a sharper (and quicker) edge.
So, I did another test using the RADA sharpener on my broadheads. It won that round too. It was easy to sharpen on the arrow. The edges were subtly sharper than the ones sharpened on a stone with oil. It’s hard to beat a better edge result that can be achieved quickly without the need for oil or a cloth or an angle-jig to do it.
(Keep in mind these are not single-bevel broadheads, these are double-bevels.)
The most satisfying part is that it looks like I‘ve finally found THE sharpener, THE ONE that feels perfect for (almost) every situation. The one I was still looking for last week back in Field Notes 03. And the crazy part is, I’ve been using this sharpener on knives for years, YEARS! And only now did I try it on broadheads.
I guess sometimes our common sense gets swayed and obscured by thoughts of “this tool is for this and that tool is for that.” But some tools, it appears, are good for both this and that. And that’s what we find with the RADA sharpener.
Maybe there’s something to be said in using what’s around and readily available. Maybe there’s something to be said in following the examples quietly set forth by people living closer to a less-cluttered past. I’ve come to see that there’s beauty in simplicity. There’s value in repurposing and multi-purposing. And there’s something to be admired in doing more with less.
FIELD NOTES / 03
FIELD NOTES / 03 : I LIKE SHARPENING
By Andri Elko
Maintaining sharp broadheads is important. Especially with traditional archery, where our draw weight and arrow speeds tend to be lower in comparison to most contemporary compound bows.
Traditional archery, ideally, takes place inside of 20 yards. Some archers can stretch that out to 25-30 yards with a lot of practice and proper equipment. Close proximity is crucial for ethics and respect when taking the life of a wild animal using traditional methods. All equipment has inherent limitations. With traditional archery, those limitations can be curtailed with measures of well-suited and well-maintained equipment and also with arrow release only when within the archer’s capable range.
Tradbow hunters tend to love close proximity. It feels like you’re immersed in Nature, a silent spectator, privy to a secret world. Extra challenge comes with it, too, in making yourself invisible enough to bear witness; to watch without being watched; to see and hear what few humans these days venture to see and hear.
These kinds of close encounters evoke a rare intimacy. There’s both adrenaline and peace; both over-thinking and meditation; both practicality and poetry. These dichotomies of human experience are all wrapped up simultaneously. We discover them in a good sit, or in a day well-spent glassing prior to a stealthy spot and stalk. They’re revealed in moments: in the fleeting colors of a sunset that prelude the end of shooting-light; in the fresh scent of sweetgrass that lingers in heavy evening air; in the birdsong that “plays” in the background while walking through timbers and prairie fields. They are found, also, in the effort behind every well-placed arrow.
With a tradbow, there isn’t an optic to look through like we have with rifle hunting. Nothing on the bow is going to make your target appear closer. There’s no gauging where to shoot based on a peep and a pin. There is no added component to help compensate for human error or shortcoming. But there is something, something pure and primitive in being close enough to share space with what you’re aiming at; in being close enough to pick a specific vital spot for the most clean and ethical aim.
When I’ve shot compound bows in the past, I didn’t bother much with sharpening broadheads. I could easily just replace them entirely by screwing in a brand new razor-sharp-out-of-the-box identically machined broadhead. Or, I could replace blade inserts for a brand new razor sharp edge. With traditional archery, though, broadheads are glued on, kept longer, and they usually don’t have mechanical or replacable parts. Broadheads that are designed for the tapered end of wooden arrow shafts typically need to be sharpened often — especially in preparation for a hunt.
I like sharpening; the sound of the burrs and rough edges grinding away on the sharpening plate or stone. Fine metal residue gradually turning the oil from clear to gray, then to charcoal-black — evidence of making headway.
Sharpening with oil is convenient too, because I can use that same oil for the steel maintenance of my broadheads after sharpening them. Broadheads designed for wooden arrow shafts are often made of high carbon steels. This kind of steel needs oiling from time to time to help prevent rust.
I have yet to find the sharpener, the one that feels perfect for every situation. I’m still exploring different sharpening products. I figure it’s good to have something for a workbench and also have something else that’s packable and will get the job done quickly in the field. It’s even better if that field sharpener is lightweight and can sharpen various edges.
For today’s sharpening, I used a recently purchased OZCUT 2 Easy Broadhead Sharpener. It has 1000-grit diamond plates set at 30-degrees on one side. Per the product description, this is designed to accommodate edge angles on both two and four-blade broadheads. On the opposite side of those angled plates, we find a single flat plate. The flat plate is designed for sharpening three-blade broadheads and straight blades, like a hunting knife.
This sharpener is robust, and feels solid and reliable. It’s a hefty piece of machined metal. Both sides seat firmly on a flat surface. I only wish they made the two hollowed-out tunnels in the main brick functional as storage for a small re-fillable bottle of oil on one side, and maybe a wiping cloth on the other. That way, I’d have all I need for the task in one handy all-in-one package.
Another thought is that many broadheads are not sharpened to a 30-degree angle. There’s a lot of online talk about edge angle, and about finding that perfect combination of cutting quality and durability. For single bevels, you’d still need to use a jig on the flat plate side with this sharpener.
For my broadheads, I tried both sides, just to test things out. In a perfect world, I would have loved the option to adjust the plate angles and their proximity to one another. But that isn’t an option with this product. So, I tried running one broadhead at the 30-degrees. Soon, I had to modify my approach because I was unable to grind the full edge as the tip of my broadhead sat in the channel with no grind. I then tried free-handing my grinds on the flat-side with a shallower angle and that allowed me to grind the full edge. But that came at the cost of using the angled side, which was part of why I purchased this.
I was hoping this would be a quicker tool than using a jig. I wanted something that could put a fast edge on my broadheads while they’re on the arrow. I wanted something for quick and easy touch-ups. I can’t say that the outcome I got is perfect, but I am pleased with how quickly I was able to obtain a sharp edge with this setup.
I think some of the design elements that required me to modify my technique could be remedied. I’ll explain a little, because I think it can lead to customer awareness and maybe even improvements in the design.
As I noted before, this sharpener is designed with a center channel. This channel accommodates the extra axis of 4-blade broadhead shapes. It’s advertised as a sharpener for any broadhead, not just the company’s broadheads. My issue with that channel is that it results in the plates missing the apex of my ACE Standards, so I found myself needing to manually adjust for that. I’m sure it’ll be great for my compound setup, but it’s not currently meeting the needs of my traditional setup in the ways that I desire.
From a design standpoint, I think the channel issue could be remedied with an easy modification by designing the angled plates to slide toward center where they could then be tightened down into place with the existing inset screws. This could be achieved by replacing the single screws on each end of the plate with either an inset slide-groove, or — even simpler — by offsetting the current screw insets on each end. This way, the user could simply remove the screws, flip the plate orientation, and tighten it back into place. As a result, the user could choose to have the plates touch on center or choose to leave the channel open for other broadhead styles.
That’s just my own two-cents on getting more out of the existing design. I’d probably also include a small hex or phillips tool for the screws, and I’d mill a storage-slot into the main brick for storing that tool. I love when tools are stored in the product that needs them! It’s efficient, and thoughtful.
Additionally, there’s potential for a cut on price-point that could be achieved by reducing the packaging that went into this sharpener. Ideally, packaging should be practical, minimal and maybe even useful. Great packaging is all of that, with the added plus of being artful or playful.
This sharpener, on the other hand, came housed in an elaborate box that included elements of paper, plastic, magnets, metal and foam. Inside the box was a hard plastic housing for the sharpener. The housing was framed with LED strips on two sides. On the backside, wires connected the LED strips to a compartment with 2 AAA batteries. The batteries were corroded and not working at the time that I purchased it. This also meant that the LED’s were not working at the time of purchase either. And, on top of all that, why would I need a hard plastic protection housing for something that’s built to withstand wear and tear? Honestly, the excess and the LED’s do not impress me. But the performance and the results from this product do.
Sometimes, less really is more, and more is just overkill.
All-in-all, I’m happy with this purchase. It’s a great sharpening tool for fast and sharp results. Albeit, it’s probably better suited for my compound broadheads than my for traditional broadheads.
I asked my Dad for his pocket knife. We both tested its initial sharpness. It was fairly dull from use. In less than 5 minutes I had a new edge on it for him. It took no time at all to get the sharpener, apply the oil, run both sides a handful of times with hard pressure, followed by a handful of times with lighter pressure. I wiped it clean and that was that! The edge was sharp!
He got so excited when I handed his sharp knife back to him, that he wanted to see this sharpener right away! And, now, I have to wrap up this writing, because he wants me to go sharpen more of his knives.
FIELD NOTES / 02
FIELD NOTES / 02 : HE LOVED ARCHERY
By Andri Elko
When I was a kid, I dog-eared a Bear Archery Kodiak Cub recurve in the Cabela’s catalog. I saved my pennies to buy it myself. I never really had an allowance, but I took babysitting jobs when I could. My friend Chelsea and I painted rocks and walked around town trying to sell those to people we passed by. We also made and sold friendship bracelets and lemonade.
I look back on those early years and smile at our youthful entrepreneurial spirit. But mostly, I smile because there are people in our community who were kind enough to buy rocks from kids; and supportive enough to shell out hard-earned money for a Dixie cup of lemonade. Chelsea and I, joyfully oblivious to our surroundings, sold that lemonade out of a ramshackle weathered-wood stand we set up right next to a husky’s old dog house. The memory in my mind is a quaint and quintessential picture, but, in all honest likelihood, the reality of that dog yard was probably not so quaint and not so quintessential. Lol.
I still have that Kodiak Cub. I plinked with it on the beach in front of our house for summers on end as a kid. I ripped DuctTape into X’s for target-marks on cardboard boxes. With that little bow, one or two good-sized rocks set inside a box was enough to weigh it down. If I shot well, I’d peel off the X’s and bring them in to show my Dad. For years — like maybe 10+ years — one of those “good X’s” was stuck onto the cover of his address book that he kept in the corner shelf near the kitchen. It’s interesting, the little things life chooses to keep around.
My next bow was a Jennings Star compound bow. I still remember the day it arrived at our home in a large homemade wooden case. I anticipated that bow with such deep and barely containable excitement! This compound bow was a BIG deal! It was also the first time I ever negotiated a trade of any magnitude.
His name was George P. Mann, a bowhunter from Alabama. He was visiting us in Unalakleet for a grizzly hunt that he had booked with my Dad. I was 11 or 12 years old at that time. My swarm of curiosities and questions about bows and archery were met with such patience and kindness from Mr. Mann.
Before he left Alaska (after a successful bowhunt) he made me an offer. The deal was this: First, I would tie 100 Egg-Sucking Leech fly-fishing flies and send them to him. Then, he would send me a compound bow set-up. Honestly, a place remains in my heart that still — still —can’t believe it.
I spent the next few weeks in my bedroom covered in fuchsia chenille fibers. My fingers dyed purple from marabou. Gosh, I cringe looking back, thinking how pathetic those flies must have been. I was just a kid, of course I thought they looked absolutely incredible, but now I’m old enough to know better.
It’s only in hindsight that I now see the legacy in Mr. Mann’s gift. He didn’t make that trade because he needed flies to fish with. He didn’t give that bow to me simply because I wanted a bow. No. He gave that bow to me because he loved archery.
By giving a kid a bow, and making me work for it and value it — he was planting seeds and cultivating the next generation. By this, I mean both the next generation in terms of my own sense of value and pride in accomplishment and also in terms of the next generation of archery.
George P. Mann is a legend. He is. He lived and breathed bowhunting and conservation. He shared it as naturally and freely as air. His enduring legacy is beyond any person or comprehension, really. All I know is that his love of archery is reflected in my own love of archery. And I know, for certain, that my life would be unimaginably different, void in an unknowable yet perceptible way, had he not been a part of it.
When I outgrew that Jennings that he gave me, I gave it to another young girl in our village. It was never really mine anyway. It was a seed, a seed that grew and dispersed — like dandelion swept up by a gust of wind.
I’ve had other bows since, some traditional and some compound. I’m not a purist when it comes to traditional archery — but I do prefer it. Just like I prefer swinging dry-flies for grayling, but I also slug out blaze-orange Pixies and chartreuse Vibrax when I want to limit out on salmon and fill the freezer. And there’s the newer magic lure, the Flying-C (my now not-so-secret secret weapon.)
Subsequently, as I write this it has me thinking back…
Mr. Mann is also who taught me how to cast a fly-rod and fly-fish. He offered his rod for me to use, gave me casting advice, and let me have-at-it as long as I wanted. I remember standing there near sundown on the edge of the dock, surrounded by the sound of crickets and warm southern air, practicing my cast on the Alabama catfish pond.
I think there’s room and reason for all ways, and a well-suited way for the right occasion. And, if we’re lucky, we’re blessed with people who teach us the right way along the way. Our world is made by what we make of it.
Perhaps one simple crux this story has to offer is this: Gifts and choices alike, are enriched not so much by their what, but by their why. And their true value, the kind that endures, is imbued by the giver of the gift and by the person behind every choice. It’s people that matter most.
Read about Mann Wildlife Learning Museum here: https://www.montgomeryzoo.com/mann-museum/the-mann-museum
* Photo of today’s early May snow.
FIELD NOTES / 01
FIELD NOTES / 01 : IT’S CALLED BREAKUP
By Andri Elko
Today I pulled a treasure out from safekeeping. Its black matte glass felt smooth and flawless as I ran my hand along the upper limb toward the riser swell. My hand grasped the grip’s light bourbon leather wrap, and it felt like an old familiar handshake. My fingertips traced along its seam of baseball stitching that my friend sewed so perfectly years ago now.
He’s passed away since. Still, the marks of his life on earth live on in the bows that he made and in the memories of the lives that he touched.
Handmade hunting tools are priceless. Wooden bows and home forged knives are my favorites. Heart and soul are poured into their making, etched into every angle and edge and underlying every choice of material. There is history in the methods used, some that stretch further back into time than others. Some even reaching back far enough to beckon forth the whispers of ancestors who call us deeper into our shared human story.
It is from those internal borderlands between the human self and the higher soul, where the unseeable and untouchable breeze of Spirit gently fans the flames of our eternal fire. Hunting, in its own and ancient way, conjures the proverbial act of setting out the stones and placing the kindling to be lit. It is a way to prepare and sit before that sacred fire, to wait, to witness, to partake. It’s that fire that gives meaning to experience and purpose to our presence. It’s that fire that feeds the soul of a hunter; that fire that warms us in this earthly cold; that fire that lets us know we are here for a breathly moment. It’s that fire that reminds us that all life — our life—is a fleeting gift tied to the passing of time and enfolded with layers of story.
A flemish-twist, a cedar arrow, a wooden bow. We may purchase these, but their value is so much more than their price. They carry the fingerprint of natural life and of un-urban legends. Within their grains and fibers waits a quiet longing, one that yearns for companionship. In that way, they are like us. These homemade tools invite us. They desire to enter into seasons, backwoods, valleys and mountaintops. They, in a way, become a part of us, helping us to fulfill who we are meant to be.
This longbow is a 61" Osprey of Holm-Made bows made by Chad Holm. Chad gave it to me after teaching me to build my own longbow over a weekend of backyard shop-time and Badlands shooting-time with Chad and his son and our friend Brad Davis. Brad introduced us and invited us all together to build bows and shoot for a few days. Brad helped me build my first bow, a recurve. Chad helped me build a longbow in Brad’s shop.
I will forever be grateful to the generosity of these two incredible men for their willingness to share their knowledge and for the gift of their valuable time. God crossed our paths and used traditional archery to do it — and it has enriched my life in all good and beautiful ways. They’ve become legends in my own tradbow story, giants who lifted me simply to share the wonder of their view.
In Bush Alaska now, it’s that in-between season. That stretch of Spring where the river ice is too thin to travel and bound by the river’s banks and borders. Our sea ice is almost a memory, some still clings to the coastal shores. It’s covered with glistening greenish-blue overflow and darkened “shadows” of water waiting just below. Seals lie beneath the sun, sleeping like oversized slugs. The loud cries of hungry seagulls shout the arrival of Spring. And the skies offer a welcomed return for birds migrating back to these lakes, muskeg, tundra tussocks and rocky cliff crevices of their birth.
This is the shortest season, but it feels like the longest — it’s called Breakup. It bridges winter-spring with summer-spring. It’s a time for preparing. It’s full of anticipation. It’s a time for gathering up treasures like this longbow. I string it, set the brace height, wax the flemish string and attach the quiver. I pull out my wooden arrows and sharpen broadheads. I wait, shoot and tune my tools and myself to what is true. The clock and clutter of urban life fades like sea ice swept into the horizon by unseen winds and currents. Time passes. Story unfolds.