Advice, Folders, Review

INSTALLING THE TITECH HEINNIE® EXCLUSIVE SPYDERCO UKPK TITANIUM SCALES.

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Installing Titech titanium scales from Heinnie Haynes onto a Spyderco UKPK is less a mechanical operation than a quiet exercise in precision, patience, and restraint—something closer to watchmaking than simple knife maintenance. And I’m clumsy.
The UKPK, with its deceptively simple slipjoint construction, hides a strong and finely balanced backspring whose tension defines the entire character of the knife. Respecting that tension is the key to a successful transformation. And trust me, it asks for respect !!

Begin by approaching the disassembly with intention rather than haste. A quality Torx driver is essential, not only to preserve the hardware but to maintain control over each movement. Remove the pocket clip screws first, then the body screws, and only then ease into the pivot. At this stage, the knife is still under spring tension, and it is important to keep a subtle, steady pressure on the handle as the scales begin to separate. The backspring should never be allowed to snap free; instead, it must be guided, almost persuaded, into release.

This moment defines whether the process remains controlled or becomes unnecessarily chaotic.

As the original FRN scales come away, the internal architecture of the UKPK reveals itself in a straightforward yet unforgiving layout: blade, backspring, stop pin, pivot barrel, and screws, all of which must be preserved and transferred. The most elegant way to proceed is to move components gradually, keeping their orientation intact, allowing the new titanium scale to receive them in a natural sequence rather than reconstructing everything from memory. The washers, often overlooked, are in fact central to the final action. They must sit perfectly flat on either side of the blade, aligned with the pivot, as even the slightest misplacement will translate into stiffness or uneven movement once assembled.
I have used gaffer tape to maintain the D Shape female screws in place while manipulating the scale.

Reassembly is where the transformation begins to take shape. One titanium scale becomes the foundation upon which the blade and spring are seated, their relationship re-established with careful alignment. The second scale closes the structure, and the pivot is introduced not as a point of tension but as a placeholder, tightened only enough to hold the system together.

Insert the blade carefully into the fork of the backspring, ensuring it seats naturally without forcing the geometry; from that moment onward, the entire operation shifts to the opposite end of the spring, whose tail must be guided with precision into the recessed channel of the titanium scale, where it locks into place and defines the tension of the mechanism.


The body screws follow, also left deliberately loose. At this stage, the knife should feel unresolved, almost unfinished, and that is precisely the intention.

The refinement comes next, and it is here that the distinction between an average installation and an exceptional one is made. The body screws should be brought to tension first, gradually and evenly, allowing the frame to settle without distorting the spring. Only then should the pivot be adjusted, and even then with the lightest touch, in minute increments. The temptation to over-tighten must be resisted entirely. On a slipjoint like the UKPK, excessive force does not create solidity; it creates imbalance, increasing spring pressure artificially and compromising the fluidity of the action. In extreme cases, it risks stressing the spring itself, which is the heart of the mechanism.

Keeping the pivot loose with a touch of threadlocker is exactly the right instinct; it allows the mechanism to settle into its natural alignment before you commit to final tension.

The final result: the UKPK gains a subtle weight, a cooler tactility, and a sense of structural integrity that the original FRN cannot provide.
I love the added heft—it enhances the feel while preserving the rustproof nature of the UKPK Salt.
t’s a rare upgrade where nothing essential is lost. Instead, everything is simply… tightened, deepened, and made more intentional.
And for around 57 euros, it feels like a genuine bargain.
Heinnie Haynes also offers brass and copper Titech scales, though they didn’t quite suit the spirit of my Spyderco UKPK Salt.
But if Sal Glesser ever releases a 52100 version of the UKPK, copper would suddenly make perfect sense. 🙂

Review

Teeth Don’t Lie: Field Notes on a Rasp Knife named “Bull Cutter”.

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There are teeth… and then there are teeth.
Serrations — and rasp.
Let’s get one thing straight.
This is not a “knife made from a rasp.”
This is a farrier rasp that refused to die.
(A farrier takes care of the feet and hooves of equines, whether donkeys, ponies or horses. He takes care of fitting and trimming the shoes.)
And when the knifemaker knows exactly what he’s doing — and here, Robin Medina Thomas from La Coutellerie de la Vallée clearly does — you end up with a blade that doesn’t just cut. It commits. Playfully.
Carrying its inheritance in both form and function.

The blade retains the unmistakable imprint of its former rasp life.
A thick spine, yet a remarkably fine cutting geometry. Along the upper section, the rasp’s triangular teeth remain smoothed — not as ornament, but as a deliberate act of preservation… a generous spine that offers a wide, comfortable track for the thumb.
These elements speak of force.
From abrasion to raw, unapologetic function.
And then, just below, everything shifts — through transformation.
In an age of excess and waste, this feels almost essential.
Not just recycling, but refinement.
A second life in excellence !

Rasp steel is high-carbon steel, typically around 1% carbon.
An old-timer alloy — simple, proven, and unforgiving if mishandled. No modern complexity.
Just steel that responds directly to heat, to grinding, to use.

And when treated right, it delivers exactly what matters:

Edge, bite, and honesty — with a potential remarkable tolerance for abuse.

That’s why this kind of steel has long been favored for expedition and field knives (TOPS, ESEE…). It has proven itself where it matters most: in wood, in weather, in real use.

Not in theory. In the field. You cant go more traditional than this.


Deep, smooth, almost liquid in its reflection, the zebu horn handle creates a striking contrast with the blade’s aggressive texture — a dialogue between softness and bite.
The transition is not only visual. It is tactile. Almost sensual.
Oh, this is a tool made with love, and a companion, still becoming.

And you feel it immediately in the balance and ergonomics.
The fingers and palm find their place naturally — no adjustment, no hesitation, no hot spots.

The spine is just right for controlled push cuts, offering both comfort and precision.
This is, above all, an excellent trimming knife.
It can also find its place in bushcraft.
Easy to bring back to a razor edge, and forgiving in use — a knife that works with you, not against you.

The profile remains restrained.
A compact geometry, balanced, with a gentle curvature that favors control over demonstration. The bevel is generous, inviting engagement without excess resistance.

Used in wood, the blade reveals its true character. It confirms the visual promise: entry is immediate, the cut remains stable, the material yields without fracture.

Under diamond stones, the edge feels stubborn—almost reluctant to yield.
But that resistance is a good thing.
As legendary knifemaker Des Horn once put it: “It’s not easy to grind carbon steel without raising the temperature too high. If it turns blue while grinding, it’s much softer.”
And that Bull Cutter’s rasp steel? It’s properly hard.

As a bonus:
Carbon steel and zebu horn share a common trait: they will change.
The steel will soon take on a patina, marking time and use.
The dark brown horn will slowly deepen, its surface already showing and gaining subtle complexity.
These are not signs of wear. These are the continuation of the object.

And Robin’s Bull Cutter is really a knife made to be enjoyed in the woods. He will see a lot of kitchen times too because the sheepfoot blade is non-threatening, almost reassuring — even to those who don’t speak the language of knives, as they are drawn to the story of a farrier’s rasp given a second life.
The guard locks the hand in place with quiet confidence, and the thin edge invites controlled push cuts with ease.

Robin made this knife for his own enjoyment — and you can feel it.
There is substance here. A certain heft in the hand, just enough to carry momentum when working light branches. It’s not meant for show — it’s meant to be used.
A compact blade with presence.
A small tank, stripped of frills and completely free of tacticool pretension.
Instead, it carries something rarer:

There is an old-timer aura….
The kind of knife that feels familiar the moment you pick it up as if that steel had already lived a looong life before reaching your hand.
It also echoes my long-standing appreciation for Schrade Old Timer fixed blades: the same kind of steel, the same pragmatic lineage.

“Excellent. Those are heat treated for hardness and not strength but are thick enough to be strong enough.” Des Horn.

And then there is the sheath. Modern. Minimal. Black. Functional.
No unnecessary flourish — just a pancake kydex shell, shaped tight to the blade, held by a simple cord system that lets you adapt carry without overthinking it.
Your knife is a tool, destined to be in your pocket, belt or bag, when you go in the woods.
This kind of sheath are indestructible and they dry easy.

The handle can be crafted from a selection of carefully chosen woods and natural materials, each bringing its own character and depth:

  • Curly Birch — light-toned and finely figured, with subtle flame patterns that shift under the light, offering both elegance and warmth.
  • Boxwood — dense and smooth, with a pale golden hue that evokes traditional European craftsmanship and understated refinement.
  • Yew — rich in contrast, blending warm amber tones with darker veins, a wood long associated with heritage and resilience.
  • Yellow Locust (Black Locust) — robust and naturally durable, with a deep, earthy coloration that speaks of strength and longevity.
  • Rosewood — dark, luxurious, and complex, with deep reddish-brown tones and a natural luster that brings a sense of quiet opulence.
  • The list goes on…

For around 100 euros (mine was 110), the Bull Cutter doesn’t belong in a display case. This is Robin’s favorite design and best seller. It belongs in the forest — in valleys of green and grey, following the rivers as they meander through the land.

It is a coup de cœur for me — and my kind of tribute to a young, gifted knifemaker.

In use. This rasp steel was born to remove matter.
It still does in a new sharp shape.

La Coutellerie de la Vallée
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61582645504772
Dampierre-en-Yvelines, France
An artisan workshop dedicated to the crafting of bespoke knives and the art of fine sharpening.
Each piece is shaped with care, guided by tradition, and made to endure in use.

📞 +33 7 61 83 52 59

Advice, Folders

“Part The Matters For Me” – Spyderco UKPK Salt Serrated vs UKPK Sprint SPY27 Plain Edge – Teeth vs Razor.

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I often come across very strong opinions when it comes to serrated versus plain edges. More often than not, users dismiss serrations outright—too ugly, too difficult to sharpen, ultimately useless, impossible to tune… usually without ever having truly put them to the test.

Consider this a brief attempt to set the record straight.

The Spydie UKPK Salt in Magnacut, here in its serrated form, is built for unforgiving environments : lightweight, corrosion-proof, and relentlessly efficient when conditions turn wet, fibrous, or hostile.

Facing it, the Spyderco UKPK Sprint Run in SPY27 with a plain edge embodies precision and control, offering a refined, razor-like cutting experience with effortless maintenance.

What do we got ? Two identical platforms, two radically different philosophies: one designed to endure, the other to excel.

Let’s first compare the steel. Two of my favorite high end alloys and luxury, in this case, does not come from polish or presentation. It comes from intent.

The UKPK Salt, dressed in serrations and armed with Magnacut, carries the modern obsession with resilience to its logical extreme. This is not a steel that negotiates. It exists in total defiance of the elements: saltwater, humidity, neglect. Where older stainless steels would stain, pit, or surrender their edge, Magnacut remains composed, almost indifferent. Its toughness borders on the improbable for something so corrosion-resistant, and yet it refuses to chase the last degree of razor refinement. Its edge is not delicate—it is enduring. One senses immediately that this is a steel designed not for the enthusiast’s bench, but for the long, indifferent stretch of real use.

Across from it, the Golden Child, blade of SPY27, a Sprint Run which offers a very different kind of luxury. Less demonstrative, more intimate. Designed in-house by Spyderco, COM-SPY27 feels less like a technological statement and more like a tuned instrument. It sharpens with ease, almost eagerly, taking on a ultra fine, ultra precise edge that invites control rather than brute persistence. Where Magnacut stands its ground, SPY27 moves—fluid, responsive, alive under the hand. It does not seek to dominate harsh environments; it refines the experience of cutting within them.

The distinction is subtle but decisive. Magnacut is a wonder steel that reassures. SPY27 is an exclusive steel that seduces.

Now about the edge shape…. Here, inevitably, the steel disappears. What remains is the edge—the only part that truly meets the world.

Like Moses said, “Part the matters for me”…
—oh wait, I meant the waters. 😉

On the Salt, the serrated profile transforms the blade into something almost mechanical in its intent. It does not glide; it engages. Each tooth acts as a point of aggression, catching, pulling, tearing through resistant materials with an efficiency that borders on inevitability. Rope, fibrous plastics, anything damp or uncooperative—these are not challenges but confirmations of purpose.
You need to try it to understand it. Serrations aren’t saws—they’re teeth.
Even as the knife loses its initial sharpness, the serrations continue to function, each peak preserving a fragment of cutting power. It is a system designed to keep working long after refinement has faded.

But there is no illusion here. This is not a refined edge. It does not slice so much as it asserts itself. Precision is sacrificed for continuity of performance. Elegance yields to certainty.

To sharpen it, use the corner of a stone or a triangular rod, and treat it like a chisel-ground blade: work each serration individually, then simply remove the burr on the flat side. It’s done in minutes—easy, almost effortless.

The SPY27 Sprint Run, with its plain edge, follows the opposite philosophy. The cut is continuous, uninterrupted—a single line of intent from heel to tip. It can be tuned at will, from a coarse, aggressive bite to a razor’s whisper. There is no tearing, no hesitation. Materials part cleanly, almost silently, as if persuaded rather than forced. In wood, the blade tracks with uncanny precision; in food, it glides effortlessly; in finer tasks, it answers the slightest pressure. Here, SPY27 reveals its true nature—not through endurance, but through absolute fidelity to the cut.

And when the edge begins to soften, it does not resist restoration. A few passes on leather, a moment of attention, and the blade returns to form. There is a rhythm to it—a dialogue between user and steel that serrations, by their nature, cannot offer.

Placed side by side, these two UKPKs do not compete so much as they define a spectrum.

The Salt, in Magnacut and serrations, is a study in persistence. It is the knife that continues when conditions deteriorate, when maintenance is forgotten, when the environment becomes hostile. It asks little and gives consistency in return.

The SPY27 Sprint Run is something else entirely. It is not concerned with surviving neglect. It assumes presence, attention, a certain appreciation for the act itself. It rewards that attention with a level of precision and tactile satisfaction that borders on indulgence.

In the end, the choice is not between better or worse. It is between two forms of excellence.

One refuses to fail.
The other refuses to compromise.

And that review was also inspired (in the background) by that beautiful New Model Army song :



“We all get what we’ve got coming to us
The tide flows both ways across the seas
All following through on promises made
The roads are filled with fleeing slaves and refugees – singing

Part the waters for me

Now this motioning forward will never stop
We’re like sharks in the water, if we stop swimming we die
All coming out of the ruins bedraggled and worn
Like a people who stared too long, too long at the sun in the sky – singing

Part the waters for me

Any god will surely come, deliverance will surely come
On our knees by the stony shore, crack the sky and deliverance will come

Part the waters for me”

Screenshot
Advice, Folders, Review

Reprofiling Intent: Turning the Yojimbo 2 into a Woodcraft Tool

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There’s a quiet irony in taking a knife designed for confrontation…
and teaching it patience.

I’ve written more than once about Jade, my 8 years old Spyderco Yojimbo 2 Sprint Run—a blade that was never meant for the forest.
It was conceived for speed, control, and intent in a very different kind of environment.

But strip away the narrative, and what remains is geometry.

And geometry doesn’t lie.

Somewhere along the way, it became clear that I wasn’t alone in that realization.
At the last Minimeet, I had the chance to handle a design by Michael Janich—a fixed-blade prototype unmistakably rooted in the Yojimbo 2’s DNA, yet openly aimed at bushcraft.

That moment changed the perspective.

Because it confirmed something simple: using a Yojimbo 2 in the woods isn’t a vue de l’esprit.
It’s not a conceptual stretch, nor a contrarian experiment.

It’s a natural evolution.

I wasn’t alone in seeing it as a whittler, a wood cutter, a tool for controlled work rather than confrontation.
It’s my reinterpretation—since 2018—of what a reliable forest knife could be against the grain: hollow grind and very pointy wharncliffe.

  • Steel: CPM M4 — aggressive, unforgiving, alive… and tough.
    Tougher than S30V, which matters when your Yojimbo carries a fine, precise tip.
  • Edge: Convexed — reshaped for efficiency, and just as importantly, easy maintenance on leather.
    A working edge, not a showroom finish.
  • Spine: Rounded — softened for control, especially in push cuts driven by the thumb of my left hand.

These aren’t cosmetic tweaks.
They are functional decisions that shift the knife’s center of gravity—from tactical response to wood interaction.
Because using a knife gently on a piece of wood is not just a task.
It’s a sensation. And that sensation—quiet, controlled, almost meditative—is where the real value lies.
Cutting wood is not only about efficiency.
It’s about pleasure.

And pleasure is an essential part of the cutting experience with a CPM M4 thin edge. That straight edge doesn’t fight the material—it applies a constant, controlled pressure through the cut.
It enters, separates, and exits with a continuity rarely found in production folders. Michael Janich has been advocate of that design for 25 years. And it seems he has taken his own Yo2 in the wild too.
Because that’s where the Wharncliffe reveals its truth.
Its straight edge isn’t a limitation—it’s an advantage for whittling.

Precision cuts become natural. Predictable. Repeatable.
And then the thin, convexed edge takes over.

Suddenly, even hard, dry wood yields with ease:

  • cuts deepen without resistance
  • fibers part cleanly—almost polished under the thumb
  • the blade tracks perfectly straight, as if guided on rails

What is often misunderstood as a “tactical” profile becomes something else entirely: a controlled cutting line—precise, deliberate, uncompromising.

Even feathersticks are no longer a technique.
They become a rhythm. A mantra.
Notches become intention.
Every movement feels deliberate. In total control.

Then comes the detail most people ignore: I have rounded spine on my Yo2. This is where the knife becomes an extension of my hand.
No more sharp edges digging into the thumb.
No hesitation when applying pressure.
Just a direct transfer of force, guided and stable.

In extended carving, this changes everything.
You don’t adjust your grip to the knife.
The knife adapts to your movement.

But CPM-M4 is not a forgiving companion.
It stains.
It reacts.
It asks for care. This is not Magnacut. 😉

But in return, it offers something rare: a lasting, aggressive bite into the material. In wood, that translates directly to efficiency.
Less effort. More control. Longer sessions without compromise.

It does raise a question, though—one worth exploring.
How would a Magnamax Yojimbo 2 perform in that domain?
Magnamax sits close, in spirit, to a stainless K390—high wear resistance, a keen, persistent edge in a rustproof package.
That could change the balance for a wooden Yojimbo 2.
Either way, it would be an interesting evolution of a SD tool into a wood knife.
But back in 2018, when Jade took shape as a sprint run, CPM M4 was the undisputed king of the hill.

Let’s be clear: Jade is not my traditional bushcraft knife.

  • It won’t baton logs
  • It won’t split kindling with brute force
  • It doesn’t pretend to be indestructible

But that’s precisely the point. This knife exists in its own different space:

Where cutting is not about survival theater,
but about precision, control, and understanding the material.
Calm and enjoyment.

It remains a folding knife and its tip is fine, by design.
But within its intended envelope, Jade performs with a clarity few knives achieve.

Because some knives are defined by their makers and others are polished by their users.
Jade belongs to the latter.

What began as a tactical tool has become something quieter, more refined:
a modern woodcraft instrument, shaped not by doctrine, but by experience. Convex at the edge, softened at the spine—
this is not a knife that was designed for the woods.
It’s a knife that learned them.
Jade the quiet warrior…

Folders, Review

UK PENKNIFE™ SALT® YELLOW CPM® MAGNACUT® — Civility Bares Its Teeth.

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Disclaimer: This knife has been provided through Spyderco’s Ambassador Program, upon my own request. Thank you to the Spyderpeople for letting me review it. 

There’s something deliciously subversive about the Spyderco UKPK in full serrated CPM Magnacut steel.
Something unique in the world of cutlery. So friendly and so formidable !
Imagine a slipjoint—non-locking, polite, born for UK legal carry—now equipped with one of the most advanced steels ever made… AND with a fully serrated edge. The kind of edge famous for emergency uses, an edge that looks like it wants to chew through a seatbelt, a rope, or your expectations like there is no tomorrow.
And yet… it works. Too well. And this is just great !

Back in the 80s, Spyderco didn’t just enter the knife world—they rewired it.
And at the center of that shift was an inventor: Sal Glesser.
Three ideas. That’s all it took:
the clip, the hole, and the teeth.
The clip turned knives into tools you actually carry—pocket, belt, or backpack.
The Spyderhole made one-handed opening instinctive, reliable… and easy to maintain in the real world.
And the serrations? They made blades hungry for fibrous materials.
Let’s get one thing straight, once and for all:
serrated knives are not saws.
They don’t remove material—they slice through it. Razor sharp, aggressive, efficient.
While everyone else was still polishing forged 52100 steel and dressing knives in stag like museum pieces, Spyderco dropped something radically different into the pocket: performance and reliability.
The early icons—Spyderco Worker, Spyderco Mariner, and Spyderco Police—weren’t about tradition.
They were about function.
Fully serrated edges. Stainless steels. Tools built to cut, not to impress.
They looked strange.
They cut like nothing else.

The Spyderco UKPK was Spyderco’s first true slipjoint, introduced roughly twenty years ago—not as a nostalgic throwback, but as a constraint-driven design.
It was built for one purpose: to comply with UK law.
No lock. A sub-3-inch blade.
But in true Spyderco fashion, compliance didn’t mean compromise.
Instead of dumbing things down, they engineered around the limitations:
a strong, confidence-inspiring pocket knife inspired by the Caly 3
with a prominent finger choil for control and safety and the unmistakable Spyderhole for true one-handed use.
What could have been a neutered tool became something else entirely:
a legal EDC that still behaves like a real knife.
The UKPK wasn’t designed to look traditional.
It was designed to work—within the rules, not despite them.
You don’t feel “underknifed” with any of the SlipIt in your pocket from the UKPK to the Squeak through the Urban.

(Pictured here with the UKPK Spy27 G10. The Salt is a FRN lightweight.)
But, yes, the UKPK has always been about restraint.
No lock. No aggression. Just that classic Spyderco leaf blade and a strong slipjoint spring doing quiet, honest work.

But now… serrations change the personality completely.
This is no longer a polite cutter— it’s a controlled velociraptor claw.


We already know how Spyderco’s serrations behave—from the long slicing authority of the Spyderco Native Chief Salt, to the feral aggression of the Spyderco Civilian, down to the unlikely precision of the “Mighty Grey Mouse,” the Spyderco Chaparral in full serrated.
(Notice on the picture: the Chaparral/Taichung serrations are “softer” than the Golden made serrated knives.)

Oh, SpyderEdge…
The bite is immediate. Unforgiving.
Cardboard, rope, fibrous material—this isn’t slicing anymore.
It’s total matter separation. “Part the matters for me !”


As you’ll notice, SpyderEdge uses a chisel grind—
which makes it surprisingly easy to maintain.
You work one side, raise a burr, then lightly deburr the other.
That’s it.
No complicated angles, no endless back-and-forth.
Fast. Efficient. Back to razor sharp in minutes.
For a blade that cuts this aggressively,
maintenance is almost… unfairly simple.

Now you’ll say: this isn’t new.
And you’d be right.
The Spyderco UKPK LC200N already brought serrations to the platform, with that ultra-corrosion-resistant, NASA-associated steel used in the Salt Series. (Click on the link for its extended review. That version exists now in green FRN.)
But this time… it’s different.
This time, CPM Magnacut steel’s turn to roar in your pocket.
And that changes everything in my book ! As I love Magnacu first.
And also because Magnacut doesn’t just resist corrosion—it brings toughness, edge stability, and a kind of refined brutality that pairs almost too well with serrations.
This isn’t just a variant.
It’s a very serious evolution of intent.



Here’s where things get almost absurd—in a good way as you get a blade that:
stays aggressive for ages
keeps cutting even when “dull”
laughs at moisture, sweat, food prep, urban abuse
This is not just durable—it’s low-maintenance lethality in a legal-friendly package.

The gentleman’s non locking folder has no business being here.
And yet—it thrives.
From the Amazonian coast to the unforgiving battlefield of my own kitchen, this “polite” knife sheds its manners the moment it meets real work.
What should feel restrained feels… unleashed.

Let’s be honest: serrations on a slipjoint feel wrong to most of knife collectors. You expect that kind of edge on a rescue knife, a tactical folder, something that locks like a plastic vault equipped with whistle.
But Spyderco pulls it off because:
the UKPK’s ergonomics are rock solid
the choil gives you a huge security if the blade closes on your fingers.
the walk & talk is confidence-inspiring, the slipjoint is hard to close.
You don’t feel under-knifed at all.

In the Real World, this knife shines where most EDCs hesitate: ripping through packaging without slipping, cutting rope under tension
food with crust (bread, cured meats—yes, really) in wet environments where plain edges can lose bite.
Nope, it’s not a bushcraft blade by design but it won’t frown to be used in the woods.
It’s not a slicey Instagram queen.
It’s a working edge for people who actually cut things or need thing to be cut quick !


The serrated Magnacut UKPK is a contradiction that became a concept.
It takes:
the legality of a slipjoint
the performance of serrations
the excellence of Magnacut
…and fuses them into something oddly perfect and reliable.

The clip is black and deep carry and all the metal elements (clip, screws, spring and of course blade) are impervious to salt water: “marine gear” is the name of the game.
Knowing LC200N green version is rustproof when Magnacut is stainless.
That green LC200N version is more sea proof if you see what I mean. But the edge won’t last as long as with the Magnacut version. 😉

The UKPK Salt Serrated in Magnacut isn’t your refined EDC.
It’s lightweight, high-visibility yellow, with a remarkably thin blade—among the thinnest ever seen on a SlipIt platform.
Made in Golden, Colorado, it turns into something unexpected:
your new all terrain folding survival tool… in a legal suit.

Overall Length: 6.91in 176mm
Closed Length: 3.95in 100mm
Blade Thickness: .098in 2.5mm
Tip Carry Position: Tip-Up

Blade Length: 2.98in 76mm
Edge Length: 2.58in 66mm
Handle Material: FRN
Lock Type: SlipIt
Origin: United States

Steel: CPM® MagnaCut®
Knife Weight: 1.7oz 48g
Clip Position: Ambi
Grind: Full-Flat

Take a look at my previous review of the LC200N UKPK Plain Edge here.

Folders, Review

Spyderco Military 2 Salt – C36GBKYLMCP2 – From ATS-34 to the Salt Age

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If you were around in the 1990s, you remember the Steel Wars.
Back then, the aspirational trio was ATS-34, 440C, and D2.
ATS-34 wasthe working man’s stainless . 440C was the gentleman’s stainless . D2 was the semi-stainless tool steel brute with some bite.
Users were happy with Gin-1 blade. VG10 was not yet available. Hard chore fixed blades were made in 1095 or 1075 or 52100 carbon steel.
Anyway, those were the benchmark steels — the ceiling, not the starting point.
Then something shifted.


In 1996, Spyderco did something quietly radical with the original Spyderco Military: they moved from ATS-34 to CPM 440V — later renamed S60V. It wasn’t just a steel swap. It was a philosophical statement.
The Military became the first production folder to embrace Crucible’s Particle Metallurgy steel.
That moment matters a lot for knives users and for Spyderco.
It marked the beginning of the modern steel era in production folders — high vanadium content, fine carbide distribution, wear resistance that outpaced what most users even knew how to sharpen. It was controversial. It was ambitious. It was forward-looking. Typical Sal Glesser’s route to unknown territory.
And the Military has been evolving ever since.

Disclaimer: This knife has been provided through Spyderco’s Ambassador Program, upon their own request. Thank you to the Spyderpeople for letting me review it and enjoy it.

Enter the Military 2 Salt: Bright, Bold, Unapologetic — yellow and black handle, corrosion-proof attitude, purpose-built for brutal environments.
The Salt line has always been about defiance — defiance of rust, of humidity, of saltwater indifference. But this is not just a “marine” variant. It’s a continuation of a lineage that has consistently served as Spyderco’s testbed for what’s next.
From ATS-34…
To CPM 440V…
To S30V, S90V, S110V…
To the modern exotics.
The Military platform doesn’t chase trends. It previews them.


Fast forward to Gambit my CPM15V “Mother of All Bears” sprint run — a steel with outrageous vanadium content and edge retention that borders on absurd. In many ways, that sprint heat treated by Shawn Houston wasn’t just a collector’s piece. It was a thesis statement.
It said:
The Military platform still exists to push metallurgy forward.
Fifteen percent vanadium. Let that sink in. In the ‘90s, we thought 440C was peak sophistication.
For the record Rambo II Knife was made from 440C.


If the 1996 jump to CPM 440V (some kind of powder steel version of 440C) signaled the start of the particle steel era, then the inevitable future feels clear.
At some point — whether as a sprint or full production — the Military will wear CPM MagnaCut. A steel you can bring to the rain forest where even camera lenses can be eaten by fungi.
And when Spyderco does a Salt, it’s no gimmick. It is the logical next step.


From a certain point of view, MagnaCut represents what ATS-34 once was supposed to be (Chris Reeve’s Sebenza were made of ATS-34) — stainless performance without compromise. Fine carbide structure. Balanced toughness. Real corrosion resistance. Practical edge stability.

As the Military began its journey by embracing the future of steel before the market demanded it, a MagnaCut Military is simply continuing that tradition.

The Military isn’t just another large folder.
It’s a timeline. A flagship. A knife Sal was giving for Eric for his military service.
But also it reflects where the industry was, where it is, and where it’s going.


That beautifully “wasped” Military 2 Salt — with its unapologetic yellow and black scales — stands as a modern chapter in that story: corrosion-proof, high-performance, and unafraid of specialized steels.
For those of us who remember when ATS-34 felt exotic, holding a Military 2 Salt today is a reminder of just how far production knives have come.
And if history is any guide, this won’t be the final evolution.
It never is……. Magnamax ?
Anyway, Magnacut is a wonderful tough steel

There is, however, one issue with the Spyderco Military 2 Salt — and it’s not the steel, the ergonomy or the lock which came with zero lock stick BTW.

It’s the clip placement. As you can see no clip can reach that central flat spot. It stays on the grooves !

“The meticulously machined Caribbean Bi-Directional Texture pattern not only ensures a secure, non-slip grip, but also reveals the scales’ alternating black and yellow layers to enhance the knife’s visibility in and around the water.”

Yes but that yellow/black Salt version retains the aggressive, highly contoured handle geometry that makes the Spyderco Caribbean such a secure tools in wet environment.
“The Caribbean’s blade is housed in a vibrantly colored handle featuring scales crafted from layered black and yellow G-10. Their intricately machined pattern provides a non-slip texture and reveals the contrasting colors to create a high-visibility striped design. “



Those scales are not flat which is “handy” especially in wet or gloved conditions. From a grip standpoint, it’s outstanding. The ergonomics are purposeful. No question.
But the clip sppon is mounted across a section of handle that isn’t truly flat. And that matters for me.

That handle creates localized tension points. In pocket draws and insertion, that translates into friction. And friction, over time, translates into shredded fabric !!

For a knife that’s designed to live in harsh environments, the last thing you want is a clip that behaves like a textile rasp.

For the record, this is not a Salt-series indictment.

Neither the Spyderco Manix 2 Salt nor the Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Salt exhibit this issue.

A low tension deep carry clip helps a lot in my case but your mileage may vary in terms of keeping your pockets pristine…

Anyway performance remains uncompromised.
Having a true all-terrain Military is no longer a niche concept. It’s a must.

The original Spyderco Military was conceived as a purpose-driven field knife — large, lean, unapologetically performance-focused. It wasn’t built for desk duty. It wasn’t built for Instagram. It was built to work.

Today, “field use” doesn’t just mean dry land and predictable climates. It means:

  • Coastal humidity
  • Saltwater exposure
  • Sweat-soaked summer carry
  • Snow, mud, rain
  • Long-term storage in less-than-ideal conditions
  • Kitchen !!

Corrosion resistance is no longer a specialty feature. It’s a baseline requirement for a all terrain purposed tool.
Low maintenance is a true luxury.

All inner parts are coated but the stop pin and the washers.
Notice that beautiful G10 layers a tour-de-force.
The nested liners being all coated there is no excuse to use that knife in wet environment.

That’s why the Spyderco Military 2 Salt matters.

It closes the loop of reliability through 3 decades.
The Military platform has always chased the frontier of steel performance — from ATS-34 to particle metallurgy, from high-vanadium experiments to modern wear monsters. But performance isn’t just edge retention charts and carbide percentages. Real performance includes survivability.

An all-terrain Military folder means:

  • A blade steel that shrugs off salt and sweat
  • Hardware that resists oxidation
  • A platform you don’t have to baby

It becomes a knife you can carry on a boat, on a mountain, in tropical humidity, or clipped inside gym shorts without thinking about it. The list goes on but you catch my drift. The Military is a big light hardchore folder ready to get dirty.
And that last part is key: without thinking about it.

Because the ultimate evolution of a military all terrain tool isn’t higher hardness.
It isn’t more vanadium.
It isn’t better CATRA numbers.
It’s freedom from worry !

The Spyderco Military 2 Salt benefits enormously from the Compression Lock. The action is smooth, controlled, and confidence-inspiring. Opening is fluid. Closing is effortless and safe. Lockup is rock solid — zero play, zero drama.
It feels modern and mechanical in the best possible way.


Compare that to the Spyderco Native Chief Salt Lightweight, and you’re in a different world. Back lock instead of Compression Lock. A more traditional cadence. A different relationship between hand and blade.
Both are outstanding knives. Choosing a favorite isn’t about quality — it’s about preference.
The Lightweight Native Chief is that good. 😉

The same goes for the Spyderco Sage 5 Salt.
Compact. Refined. Exceptionally balanced. In Salt configuration, it becomes one of the most complete corrosion-resistant EDCs available today.
At this level, it’s no longer about which one is better.
It’s about which one feels like yours.

The Military was once the knife that introduced mainstream users to particle metallurgy. Now, in Salt form, the Military 2 introduces the idea that a full-size, high-performance folder should be truly “environment-agnostic”.

And if we’re honest — for a knife with “Military” in its name — that capability feels less like an upgrade and more like destiny.


I had named my CPM M4 Millie “Ghost.”
My grey CPM CruWear Millie became “Gandalf.”
My current 15V Military 2 is “Gambit.”
So the salty one needed a name too.
And it had to start with a G.
It will be “Gurney”.
Gurney Halleck in frank Herbert’s Dune isn’t the flashy hero. He’s not mysticism and prophecy. He’s discipline. Loyalty. Hardened competence. A loyal warrior-poet who survives harsh worlds through skill and resilience.

That’s exactly what the Spyderco Military 2 Salt represents.
Not ornamental.
Not fragile.
Not trendy.

It’s a knife built for hostile environments. A blade you trust when conditions turn abrasive. There’s something very Arrakis about a corrosion-proof Military: survival through preparation.

“Behold, as a wild ass in the desert, go I forth to my work.”

Fixed Blade, Review

Pekka Tuominen – The Master of the Boreal Blade

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It was upon receiving one of my friend Jur’s knives — a superb hunting knife by Pekka Tuominen dating from 2012, forged in Silversteel and fitted with a handle incorporating walrus ivory — that I felt compelled to turn my attention back to Pekka Tuominen.

People often ask me: who is Pekka?

Consider this, then, a renewed portrait.
Because in Finland, a knife is never just a knife.

And the snow is never just the snow.

In the deep boreal forests where autumn means moose season and winter hardens the earth into something resembling iron, blades are not judged under showroom lights but against bone, sinew, cold, and time. It is in this demanding landscape that Pekka Tuominen has built his reputation — quietly, methodically, without spectacle.

He is not a factory. He is not a brand machine inflated by marketing departments and limited drops. He is a craftsman in the most literal sense of the word. And among serious Nordic hunters, his name circulates with a particular, understated respect.
Pekka’s relationship with knives began before memory. His grandfather, a part-time blacksmith, forged blades; his father worked as a carpenter. He received his first knife before the age of five. For him, the object was never exotic — it was elemental.


As a teenager immersed in scouting and outdoor life, he reached a simple conclusion about survival: the most important tool in the wilderness is a knife. Naturally, in Finland, that meant a puukko. At eighteen, he studied in Inari, in northern Lapland, training as a wilderness guide. There, he learned the fundamentals of puukko making. That period marked the true beginning of his craft.
A decisive intellectual influence came earlier, when he first read Sakari Palsi’s 1955 book Puukko. The text, he recalls, opened his eyes. It clarified what truly defines a puukko — not ornament, not material excess, but proportion and line.
For Pekka, a knife unites tool, design, and art in a single object. He cannot imagine life without one.
I have written a long review here about it.

Ask him to describe his ideal puukko — as a user rather than a maker — and he returns to simplicity. A blade of approximately 90 millimeters, paired with a 110 millimeter handle. Dimensions rooted in tradition, refined by use. Multipurpose, balanced, restrained.

He appreciates steels such as 115CrV3, often referred to as Silversteel, RWL34, and 52100. Yet he insists on a hierarchy that reveals the seriousness of his approach: the steel matters, but heat treatment matters more.

He is no rigid purist. One of his own heavily used test knives pairs stabilized black ash burl with a CPM S30V blade. He admits to having “wrongly” used it — and to grinding it down repeatedly as a result. For Tuominen, a knife that remains pristine has not yet fulfilled its purpose.

In an age of aggressive silhouettes and theatrical grinds, Tuominen defends restraint. A true puukko is defined by a relatively short, straightforward blade; a handle without finger guards; no exaggerated pommel; and clean, continuous lines that flow from tip to sheath.

He favors birch bark for its warmth and grip, but also works with curly birch and Micarta. His sheaths are hand-stitched, typically from vegetable-tanned leather. He admires traditional Finnish patterns — Tommi, Pekanpää, Kokemäen — whose differences lie more in decoration than in structure. The essential design language remains consistent across regions.

“The material does not make a puukko,” he says. “The design does.”

In Finland, the word puukkoseppä carries weight. It does not describe someone who merely grinds blades. It denotes a professional who forges, heat treats, shapes, finishes, and sews — who understands the knife as a complete entity.

Tuominen forges Silversteel and 52100, as well as his own Damascus from 15N20 and 1090. Stainless steels such as RWL34 are ground rather than forged. In every case, he performs the heat treatment himself.

This decision is not romanticism. It is control.

Heat treatment determines hardness, toughness, edge retention, resistance to chipping, sharpening behavior — in short, character. By managing austenitizing temperatures, quench timing, temper cycles, and when appropriate cryogenic steps, he tunes each blade for hunting reality rather than laboratory extremity. He does not chase maximum HRC for marketing appeal. He pursues balance.

The difference is felt not in specifications but in seasons.

One Finnish hunter wrote on a forum, after two moose seasons with his knife, that he had done nothing more than strop it. A Swedish outdoorsman described the sharpening behavior as clean and predictable, “no surprises.” The praise is never flamboyant. It is consistent. Stability, reliability, endurance.

While many outside Scandinavia associate Finnish craft primarily with the puukko, Tuominen’s strongest following among experienced outdoorsmen is tied to his dedicated hunting knives. These are not nostalgic reinterpretations of folklore. They are instruments designed for skinning and field dressing large game in cold climates.

Their geometry avoids ego. Clean drop points, disciplined grinds, carefully judged balance. No theatrical belly, no tactical posturing. In hand, they feel neutral — and that neutrality becomes invaluable during extended work. Fatigue diminishes. Control increases.

In sub-zero conditions, poorly treated steel reveals itself quickly. Edges chip, roll, or turn brittle. Tuominen’s blades are repeatedly described as stable. It is a modest word, but in the field it is decisive.

Finland formalizes its craft traditions through national qualifications overseen by the Ministry of Education. Tuominen earned the title puukkoseppämestari, Master Blade Smith, after passing rigorous examinations and presenting a master’s work to a jury. At the time of his certification, only seven craftsmen in the country held that distinction.

Today, knife making occupies the vast majority of his time. His waiting list extends roughly a year. Collaborations, including work with Spyderco, have broadened his international presence. Yet when asked about ambition, his answer remains almost disarmingly modest: he wants to become a better knife maker.

He considers craftsmanship a lifelong education — one in which imperfections are not failures but invitations to improve.

In a global knife culture increasingly captivated by spectacle, Pekka Tuominen’s work stands apart for its restraint. He works alone. He grinds, heat treats, shapes, and stitches himself. From blade to sheath, the knife remains under one set of hands.

He often summarizes his philosophy with a line that sounds simple enough: a simple man makes simple knives.

In Finland, however, simplicity is never simplistic. It is discipline. It is proportion. It is respect for the task at hand.

And in the forest, that is what endures.

Pekka’s site: https://pekkatck.fi

More articles about Pekka: HERE

Fixed Blade, Review

Patrick Bonetta’s Kitchen Warrior “Birdy” – The Essential Edge of Haute Cuisine.

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Disclaimer: This knife has been provided through Patrick Bonetta ‘s friendship. Thank you to him for letting me review it. 😉

In a professional brigade, hierarchy is everything. Precision is everything. And above all, the paring knife is sacred.

The very first lesson in any serious kitchen is this: the couteau d’office is the cook’s most precious tool. It is the instrument that never leaves your side, the blade that performs the quiet, relentless choreography of peeling, trimming, turning, scoring. Before the grand gestures of service, before the spectacle of plating, there is this small blade—and the discipline it demands.

Hygiene, of course, is non-negotiable. In that environment, a folding knife is an indulgence the brigade cannot afford. A fixed blade is imperative—clean lines, no hidden cavities, nothing that compromises sanitation. Form follows function, and function follows rigor.

Yet the realities of service introduce their own hazards. A paring knife can disappear in an instant—swept toward the bin with a cascade of peelings, or carelessly dropped into a drawer where other blades wait to bruise its edge. In a kitchen moving at full tempo, neglect is not malicious; it is simply inevitable.

The solution is as elegant as it is practical: keep the blade on you. Always. Within reach. Around the neck, suspended discreetly yet ready in a heartbeat. Thus was born the idea of a refined thin neck knife—an ultra-thin, fixed blade forged in chrome-vanadium steel, equivalent in spirit and performance to Nitrum from Arcos. Fine-grained, corrosion-resistant, responsive to sharpening, it offers the clean bite and resilience demanded by daily service.

On the right is her brother AKA the Tactical Parking Knife reviewed here.

This is not a novelty. It is a working instrument—one now worn by internationally renowned chefs, among them the celebrated Alain Ducasse, who commissioned several for his own use. In kitchens where standards are uncompromising and reputations global, tools are chosen not for ornament but for excellence.

And excellence is precisely what defines Patrick Bonetta. Perfectionist by philosophy, the house approaches finishing and ergonomics with almost obsessive care. The balance is intuitive. The Birdy’s grip—secure without fatigue. The transitions between handle and blade—flawless. Nothing is left unresolved.

The result is “Birdy”, a paring knife elevated to high craft: a lil’marvel of proportion and purpose. In the kitchen, it slices, peels, and minces with fluid authority. It becomes an extension of the hand, a silent accomplice to high precision cuts… or not. 😉

True luxury in gastronomy is not spectacle. It is control.
And control begins with the right blade.

–– The two last photo (c)Patrick Bonetta —

Folders, Review

Spyderco Endela in Spy27 – 2026 Minimeet Gift.

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In the rarefied world of enthusiast gatherings, certain objects transcend their function to become emblems. At the 19th Minimeet of 2026, that emblem arrived in a flash of satin steel and unmistakable silhouette: the Endela, rendered in CPM Spy27.

This year’s gift was no ordinary edition, no routine variation in a catalog of many. It was a gesture—considered, knowing, and deeply rooted in heritage. A gift that spoke fluent Spyderco from A to Z with a bit of Japanese.

Designed by Sal Glesser, the Endela, positioned between the compact Delica and the longer Endura, has always embodied balance: long enough to command presence, slim enough to disappear into a pocket. In this iteration, its lines were amplified by a full flat grind (FFG), that signature tapering geometry that flows from spine to edge in one continuous, purposeful plane. The result is a blade that slices with authority yet retains the structural confidence expected from a serious cutting tool.

But the true poetry lies in the steel which I have covered in my UKPK article AKA “the Golden Child”.

(I have taken this from Humint in that thread on the Bladeforums)

CPM Spy27 is not merely another powdered metallurgy alloy; it is an insider’s composition, born from collaboration and conviction. Developed as a proprietary formula, Spy27 was conceived as a modern evolution in performance stainless steel—often described as a powdered metallurgy answer to the spirit of VG-10, yet unmistakably contemporary in its balance of edge retention, corrosion resistance, and toughness. Engineered through Crucible’s particle metallurgy process—before the company’s bankruptcy reshaped the landscape—it stands as the product of a singular joint venture and a fleeting industrial moment.

Spy27 is, in many ways, a manifesto: a steel created not simply to follow trends, but to refine the brand’s own philosophy of practical performance. Fine carbides for clean, aggressive slicing. Stainless resilience for daily carry. A hardness profile that rewards precision sharpening while maintaining field durability. In hand, it feels deliberate—neither brittle nor indulgently soft. It is steel tuned to the cadence of real use. And God, it loves leather stropping.

You cannot get more “Spyderco’s roots” than this. Made in Japan (like in the 80’s), paired with the unmistakable round hole—Spyderco’s totemic opening device—and a “spoon clip” ready for pocket carry, the Endela in CPM Spy27 becomes more than a knife. It becomes a statement of identity. The FFG geometry ensures that the blade glides through material with elegant efficiency, while the ergonomics—subtle finger choil, textured scales, carefully considered weight—anchor the experience in control.

At a Minimeet, the gift is never just about value. It is about friendship. About shared language. About the unspoken understanding between those who appreciate grind lines, heat treatments, and the quiet satisfaction of a perfectly executed edge of our favorite performance knives.

The Endela came out of the box with the kind of edge that makes you pause for half a second before testing it. Not because you doubt it—but because you already know: this is the Way !

Factory sharpness can be a vague promise in this industry. Here, it was a statement. Kuddos to the Seki factory ! The blade arrived as an aggressive razor, keen and un-apolo-getic, the apex refined to the point where it would silently treetop arm hair without pressure. Not tear. Not tug. Simply pop. Hair fell away at the slightest whisper of contact.

This wasn’t just shaving sharp; it was hair-popping sharp.

It slices through plastic as though the material had lost all resistance—gliding, parting, yielding without protest. There is a particular sound when a blade meets dense plastic packaging: usually a faint crackle, a hesitant drag. Here, there was only a smooth, uninterrupted whisper. The edge didn’t force its way in; it entered decisively and continued with almost disconcerting ease, as if the medium itself had become incidental.

That kind of performance is not accidental. It is the result of geometry meeting metallurgy in perfect accord.

As my friend Robin observed—accurately and without exaggeration—the level of sharpness coming out of the Seki factories has noticeably risen since the K390 batches. Something shifted during that era. Whether it was refinement in heat treatment protocols, greater consistency in final sharpening stages, or simply a renewed culture of precision, the outcome is tangible. Blades now leave the factory with an apex that feels more deliberate, more aggressive, more controlled.

The legacy of those early K390 runs set a new internal benchmark. What we’re seeing now is the continuation of that standard applied across steels—Spy27 included. The edges are cleaner, the bevels more disciplined, the bite more assertive right out of the box.

This year, which is also the 50th anniversary from Spyderco, that understanding came wrapped in Spy27.
So what do we got:
A steel born of collaboration.
A grind that defines a house style.
A silhouette instantly recognizable across continents.
For the 19th Minimeet of 2026, the Endela was not simply offered—it was bestowed.

And in doing so, it reaffirmed what true connoisseurs already know: luxury is not always gold and gloss. Sometimes, it is the cool, matte sheen of a perfectly ground blade, engineered with intent and carried with pride. Thank you for that beautiful gift.

(Photos from the Minimeet by Guillaume GX)

Folders, Review

Spyderco Manix 2 Salt – A Welcome Overkill

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The funniest part about using the Manix 2 Salt is remembering how this model first came into being at Spyderco—and how well it has matured over time, much like your humble narrator and its designer, Eric Glesser. We’re not getting any younger! 🙂
For that, you can refer back to my previous article dedicated to this knife.

“An extremely capable full-sized folder that is ready for the toughest challenges.”

It’s either a survival-kit essential or an EDC that has earned deep respect over the decades since its creation. And that’s pretty cool. This workhorse remains a bestseller at Spyderco because it radiates reliability and performance.

Its few drawbacks? The space it occupies in the pocket—which really deserves to be dedicated to it entirely—and the lack of tip-down carry. Which means no “Spyderdrop,” unlike the Military for example—one of the most elegant ways to open a Spyderco (Grab it by the Spyderhole!).

At its core, the Manix brings three key elements that truly make the difference: a blade clearly oriented toward performance—neither overly thick nor compromised, with a tall full flat grind; a rock-solid lock that effectively turns it into a fixed blade once engaged and a drop chuting action when closing; and ergonomics so well thought out that, no matter the wet and oily situation, this knife simply refuses to escape your hand.

Disclaimer: The Manix 2 Salt has been provided through Spyderco’s Ambassador Program, upon my own request. Thank you to the Spyderpeople for letting me review it.


The Manix 2 Salt black G-10 handle is fully peel-ply-textured (mixed with Spyderco’s signature Caribbean Bi-Directional Texture™ pattern) and exceptionally grippy and yet surprisingly never abrasive to my denim pocket’s seams — a balance made possible by a thoughtful clip placement because, really, on the paper I was certain that folder would be a competitive pocket shredder !!

That said, this very design becomes a limitation if one considers swapping to a deep-carry clip: the clip would no longer land on the scale’s soft flat spot, potentially creating unwanted friction against the pocket lip. For this reason, I chose to keep the original clip. In practice, it delivers remarkably smooth in-and-out pocket action—arguably even smoother than the Edgerati.
This is still a mystery to me but that ultra grippy Manix 2 Salt G10 is actually very pocket friendly !

Now, for the past few weeks, the Salt—which is arguably the most badass version of the Manix 2 (alongside the Crucarta, which elevates it beautifully in the patina departement, or perhaps a few Sprint runs like the mighty CPM-15V brown g-10 version)—has been jumping into my pocket for real use. As you know, the Edgerati, thanks to its novelty and sheer pleasure of use, has had a tendency to evict several knives from my rotation: the Military 2 in CPM-15V, the Caly 2, the Chief in Magnacut, the Sage Salt… and inevitably, the poor Manix 2 Salt G10, which had the bad luck of arriving at the same time.

But then it hit me: if I see the Edgerati as a BMW X3—powerful, lightweight, and all-terrain—then the Manix 2 Salt is clearly a Land Rover Defender. After all, it came here to suffer… so let’s make it suffer.

And so far, it comes out with flying colors.
Like a Tenacious, this knife is here to work—no matter the conditions.
It brings back that familiar, no-nonsense feeling I used to get from the old Cold Steel Recon 1 and its mighty Triad Lock.



About the Manix 2’s lock, I was worried the mechanism might seize up with dirt or mud, but since the Salt laughs at moisture, soaking it in water is a non-issue. In the kitchen, it also encountered oily situations. Once again, the new G10 scales on the Salt provide excellent traction when drawing it from the pocket—which is definitely not the case with my titanium Squeak, an outstanding little bar of soap when my fingers are wet or greasy…

I did notice a small “click” when opening. I have the same thing on the carbon fiber CPM S90V version, though it’s less pronounced. It’s not a problem at all—just the mechanism doing its thing.

There is also something I forgot to mention—and it is far from a minor detail. The Manix lock does not rely on a detent ball to keep the blade closed in the handle. Much like a traditional back lock, spring tension alone holds the blade securely shut. It may seem subtle, but the implication is significant: closing force is applied even if the blade is slightly out of position. This provides an additional layer of safety—one that should not be underestimated, especially in demanding or unpredictable conditions.
And as mentioned in my previous article on the Manix Salt, the very first Manix models were built around a Martial Blade Craft–grade back lock—thick, overbuilt, and driven by an exceptionally strong spring. That DNA is still there. The Manix 2 lock clearly inherits that same philosophy of power, security, and mechanical confidence.
This is also what makes the Ball Bearing Lock™ so reassuring: safety.


During my homemade bottle butt geometry test—driving the blade straight through the bottom of a plastic bottle, where the material is at its thickest—I found that the Manix 2 could do a tad better. Where the Edgerati (a thicker blade though) passed this test straight out of the box, the thinner Manix 2 Salt required a bit more encouragement. I therefore decided to de-shoulder the edge slightly to thin it out, and the improvement was immediately noticeable. As usual, in ten minutes, small adjustment, but one that significantly enhanced its geometry and cutting performance.
Also I have not been able to scratch that DLC blade so far.

It also made me wonder whether this knife could genuinely appeal to a diver. How intuitive would it be to deploy and use underwater? To answer that question properly, I decided to ask Geoffrey—the head of Normandeep, a professional diver and rescue specialist operating off the Normandy coast, near the D-Day beaches

“The relevance of folding knives in diving is not always obvious.
Accessibility and storage can be an issue, especially when wearing thick gloves.
That said, the Manix is probably the least compromised option, as its lock is the easiest to operate of them all—even with gloves on. For a travelling diver, it could make sense: a knife that transitions from backpack carry during walks to a diving knife clipped to a buoyancy compensator.

Beyond diving, there’s also the nautical world—sailors, fishermen, boating in general—where this kind of knife becomes genuinely relevant. In that context, it makes a lot of sense.”

In the end, the Manix 2 remains faithful to its original ambition: to be a tool first, without apology or compromise. It does not follow trends, nor does it seek to charm through superficial refinement. Its appeal lies elsewhere—in disciplined geometry, a locking system of unquestionable security, and ergonomics conceived to ensure the blade stays exactly where it should: firmly at work in the hand.

In its Salt configuration, these virtues are elevated rather than altered. Moisture, mud, oil, even neglect, fail to disturb its composure. It can be rinsed, returned to service, and trusted again without ritual or concern. Such quiet confidence is rare, and it explains why the Manix platform has not merely survived the years, but matured with them.

It may not be the most discreet companion, nor the most elegant silhouette in Spyderco’s catalogue. Yet when conditions degrade and reliability takes precedence over finesse, the Manix 2 asserts itself with calm authority. Like any true instrument of work, it earns respect not through promise, but through repetition.

And that, ultimately, is why the Manix 2 remains a reference—quietly indispensable, and entirely earned.

From The Edge To The Point Since 1995