Folders, Review

Spyderco Dyad Jr. Lightweight CPM SPY27 Sprint Run – Part 2 – By Hook Or By Crook.

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Disclaimer: I purchased this knife myself from Coutellerie Tourangelle for €113. As always, their service was excellent, and the knife was shipped quickly. No sponsorship, no discount, and no editorial input—just my own experience as a satisfied customer.

The moment you open the red box, one thing becomes immediately obvious:
This is a very strange little animal.
Think about it for a second: a Spyderco with two Spyderholes… and no pocket clip.
That alone is enough to make even seasoned Spyderco enthusiasts raise an eyebrow.

Robin has already written an excellent review of this Sprint Run, so rather than rehashing the same points, I’ll focus on my own impressions and observations. You can read his article >>>>here<<<<

At first glance, this Japanese-made Dyad Jr. Sprint Run looks almost toy-like. It is remarkably small, to the point where many people would dismiss it without a second thought.
That would be a mistake.
This little knife hides far more capability than its modest dimensions suggest.
In fact, it offers a better edge-to-handle ratio than almost any conventional folder.
The bi-directional textured FRN scales provide excellent grip. Ergonomically, the Dyad Jr. isn’t quite as comfortable as a conventional single-bladed folder—the folded blade on the opposite side can sometimes be felt under your fingers. It never becomes painful, but you are always aware that there is another blade nested inside the handle.

That said, if you grip the knife by its FRN scales rather than squeezing directly over the blade wells, nothing shifts or flexes. The handle feels reassuringly solid, and the aggressive texture keeps the knife securely planted in your hand, even when it gets wet or slippery.

Why?
Because you’re carrying twice the cutting edge in a package that’s barely larger than a typical single-bladed knife.
You can call it “Double Trouble.”
Or perhaps “Stereo Spyderco.”
You get the idea.
Because the concept is deceptively simple. Instead of relying on a single blade, the Dyad Jr. combines two highly specialized tools. The fully serrated blade delivers cutting power far beyond what you would expect from a knife this size, effortlessly tearing through fibrous materials, rope, cardboard or tough plastics. Meanwhile, the plain edge features an exceptionally thin grind that makes it feel almost like a miniature scalpel, offering impressive precision for delicate work.

Both blades are ground surprisingly thin, a characteristic that immediately stands out when you start using the knife. The plain edge, in particular, slices with an ease that few compact folders can match.

Then comes the best surprise of all: Spy27 !

Spyderco’s proprietary steel gives this little knife a thoroughly modern heart. It offers an excellent balance of edge retention, toughness, corrosion resistance and ease of sharpening—exactly the kind of steel you want in a compact everyday carry knife that is likely to tackle a wide variety of tasks.

The Dyad Jr. has often been described as an oddball.
I disagree.
I think it is one of Sal Glesser’s most honest designs.
I still remember watching Sal use his own Dyad in a German restaurant back in 1999. He would casually switch from the plain edge to the serrated edge depending on what was on his plate. At the time, it seemed almost eccentric. Looking back, it perfectly captured the philosophy behind the Dyad: always having the right edge for the job.

Knife enthusiasts love to argue. Plain edge or serrated? Large knife or small knife? Deep carry clip or no clip? Every new model seems to force us into choosing a side.

The Dyad Jr. refuses to play that game.

Instead of asking one blade to do everything reasonably well, Spyderco simply gave us two specialists living under the same roof.

One blade is a competent surgeon, ready to remove a splinter.

The other is a tiny lumberjack, a security blade ready to saw into seatbelts.
The plain edge glides through paper, food, blister packs or delicate materials like cherry tomatoes with astonishing precision. The grind is so thin that it almost disappears behind the edge. It doesn’t feel like a compact pocket knife—it feels like a folding scalpel.

The serrated blade has completely different manners. It doesn’t slice; it attacks ! Rope, cardboard, nylon webbing, plastic strapping… materials that gradually wear down a straight edge are dispatched with almost insulting ease. You don’t ask permission. You just cut.


The serrations are nicely rounded, much like those on the Spyderco Chaparral Serrated. They cut aggressively without the annoying tendency to snag, making them surprisingly smooth in use.

The beauty of the Dyad concept isn’t simply having two blades.
It’s that your brain quickly learns to assign jobs to each one.

Without even thinking about it, the serrated edge becomes your “construction worker.” Cardboard boxes. Amazon packages. Cable ties. Dirty jobs.

The plain edge remains your gentleman.
Opening a letter. Peeling an apple. Carving delicately a piece of wood. Trimming a loose thread from a jacket.

Each blade “protects” the other.
Ironically, this means the Dyad Jr. often stays sharper longer than a conventional single-bladed knife. The workload is shared, and so is the wear.

Calling the Dyad Jr. a multi-tool completely misses the point.
There are no screwdrivers.
No bottle opener.
No scissors.
No tiny saw pretending to cut wood.

Just two exceptionally good blades. A robust screw-together construction that can be disassembled for maintenance.
It is obvious: Spyderco wasn’t trying to build a Swiss Army Knife.
They were building another serious cutting tool that simply happened to have two blades.
They built a knife that asks a different question:
“What if cutting was the only function worth optimizing?”

Looking at it that way, the Dyad Jr. suddenly makes perfect sense.

Ah, but that missing pocket clip still catches the eye. Here it sits next to two of its Spy27 siblings, looking almost naked without the familiar Spyderco clip.

Today, every Spyderco seems incomplete without one.
If I carry the Dyad Jr. for a week in my fifth pocket, I wont notice the clip absence.
Going clip-less can be good also !
It disappears into the bottom of the pocket like the classic pocket knives many of us grew up with. Nothing catches on a car seat. Nothing snags your jacket lining. Nothing pokes your hand when reaching for your keys.
The FRN scales are sturdy, it won’t get marks or bruises.

More importantly, deleting the clip also preserves that perfect symmetry of the handle. Two blades. Two lock bars. Two Spyderholes. Everything feels balanced, visually and mechanically.

Sometimes restraint is the most elegant design choice.

There is something wonderfully ironic about this Sprint Run : the Dyad Jr. is a design born decades ago, yet it solves a modern problem better than many contemporary folders.
Today, we obsess over blade steels, coatings, lock mechanisms and deep carry pocket clips.


The Dyad Jr. quietly reminds us that geometry still matters more than marketing.
A thin blade will always cut better than a thick one.
Serrations will still outperform a plain edge in various fibrous materials.
And with the Dyad Jr., you can switch from one to the other instantly, comparing both edges on exactly the same material, in exactly the same conditions. Few knives offer such an immediate and revealing side-by-side experience !
And carrying two purpose-built blades often makes more sense than asking one blade to compromise.

Both blades are secured by independent back locks, making the Dyad Jr. exceptionally safe to use. Unfortunately, this also makes this delightful little dual-blade folder an outlaw in some countries.

Take the United Kingdom, for example. A traditional Swiss Army Knife, with its non-locking slipjoint blades, can generally be carried legally in many everyday situations (or the UKPK pictured here). The Dyad Jr., despite being just as compact—and arguably just as practical—doesn’t enjoy the same status simply because both of its blades lock open.

To me, this is perhaps the concept’s greatest drawback, although it has nothing to do with the knife itself. It is simply a reflection of its unmistakable American heritage. Like the legendary Buck 110 before it, the Dyad Jr. was designed around the idea that a working knife should lock securely when in use. Sal Glesser chose function and safety over legal convenience, and the result is a knife that may be perfectly at home in the United States while being far less welcome in jurisdictions with stricter knife laws.

Now, add Spy27 to the equation—a steel that combines excellent edge retention, toughness, corrosion resistance and remarkably easy maintenance—and this little Dyad suddenly feels less like a nostalgic reissue and more like a timeless concept that finally received the steel it always deserved !
(Spy27 as you know it in my various reviews simply feels right on an EDC knife. It strikes a remarkable balance between edge retention, toughness, corrosion resistance and ease of sharpening—qualities that matter far more in everyday use than chasing the latest super steel.)

Out of the box, the factory edge shaves arm hair with ease. After a few passes on the strop, I’m confident it will be popping free-standing hairs like only a truly razor-sharp edge can.

Looking back, I can’t help thinking that the Dyad Jr. would have become my father-in-law’s favorite knife. Knowing how hard he used his old Pradel folders every single day, this little tool would have been love at first cut.


Unlike Casper, my lightning-fast Meerkat, the Dyad Jr. isn’t a quick-draw knife. It opens at a more civilized pace, much like a traditional gentleman’s folder. It encourages intention rather than haste.

The Dyad Jr. doesn’t try to impress you.
It doesn’t chase trends or exotic mechanisms. It simply becomes another quiet companion, always ready to deliver outstanding cutting performance whenever you ask.

Cut after cut, it will quietly remind you that Sal Glesser had already found the answer long before the rest of us had finished arguing about the question.

Maybe that’s what the Dyad Jr. has always been about:

“Think once. Cut twice.” 😉

Folders, Review

Spyderco Military 2 Salt – C36GBKYLMCP2 Part 2 – Wet Works & Piece of Mind

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My first article about the Military 2 Salt was a story about evolution. About how Spyderco quietly transformed one of its most iconic folders from the ATS-34 era into something that almost feels like the final expression of the Military concept. From ATS-34 to the Salt Age, the journey was technical, historical and, in many ways, inevitable.

This time, I want to talk about something much simpler :
Living with Gurney, my Mil 2 Salt.
(I nicknamed my Military 2 Salt Gurney, after Gurney Halleck from Dune. A warrior, a troubadour and, above all, a dependable companion. Somehow, it seemed fitting.)
Because after months of carrying it, I’ve stopped thinking about its steel, its lock or even its impressive specifications.

I simply reach for it. And I like it. I like its texture and action.
I did not like some hot spots.

The very first thing I did was reshape the edge. Not because Spyderco’s factory edge wasn’t excellent—it was—but because every knife eventually becomes personal.

Sal Glesser has often said that sharpening a knife is one of the ways its owner truly makes it his own.
I couldn’t agree more.

Over the years I’ve come to prefer a convex edge on almost every working knife I own. It glides through food beautifully, feels stronger behind the edge and, perhaps more importantly, suits the way I maintain my knives.

Magnacut seems to love that de-shouldering treatment of mine.

Once the convex geometry is established, maintenance becomes almost effortless. A few strokes on a leather strop are usually all it takes to bring the edge back to hair-popping sharpness.

Just a few moments with a strop on fine leather (NOT that Gucci !) or white ceramic, and the Military 2 Salt is ready for another week of work.

No complicated sharpening sessions.
No steel removal unless it’s really necessary.
Free-hand sharpening is a skill to hone. 😉
Pun absolutely intended.

Now, about those hot spots I mentioned earlier.

I also rounded the blade spine.

Not because it needed it, but because I simply love the feeling of a nicely rounded spine under my thumb. It’s a small modification that makes prolonged use even more comfortable and gives the knife a more refined, almost custom feel.

Like the convex edge, it’s one of those little personal touches that turns a production knife into your knife.

Ah, and the choil ! Just to fit it to my hand. I have used the diamonds rods from my Spyderco TriAngle sharpening system.

Those scales are french fries friendly. 🙂

Ok, like many knife enthusiasts, I spend far more time preparing food than cutting ropes or surviving in the wilderness.

Summer only reinforces that habit. (Here pictured with my favorite kitchen knife custom the Kitchen Warriors made by Patrick Bonetta)

Tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, avocado, watermelon, mozzarella, feta, peaches, lemon, herbs… preparing large salads means wet hands covered with olive oil, lemon juice, vinegar and vegetable residue. Exactly the kind of environment where many folders start feeling slippery and where corrosion quietly begins its work.

The Military 2 Salt simply doesn’t care. Citric acid ? Bring it on !
And that G10 pattern/texture really keeps the knife perfectly anchored in my hand even when everything is slick as butter under the sun.

I would ever think that its ergonomics almost reveal once my hands are wet and slippery.
And you know what, in cutlery, luxury is not having to think.

Magnacut attracts all the attention nowadays and corrosion resistance sells knives. But what I appreciate most isn’t the laboratory performance. It’s the peace of mind.
Nothing is going to rust.
Nothing is going to seize.
Nothing requires immediate cleaning because I forgot the knife in the sink after cooking.

That confidence is difficult to quantify, but it changes the relationship you have with your tool.

This is something few knives offer.

At around €200 (or about $200), the Military 2 Salt is hardly a budget knife, but I honestly think it’s a bargain for what you’re getting: a thoroughly refined design built around one of the most capable blade steels available today.

(A deep pocket carry clip is a must for a low profile attitude.)

That knife, it removes one more concern from everyday life.
You simply use it, rinse it if needed, strop it from time to time… and never worry about rust, corrosion or a reluctant pivot. No lock stick on mine actually. Just a smoooooth opening and closing.

The Military has always been a large folder. Well balanced and alive in your hand once opened.

But its pointy blade is undeniably imposing.

Yet the black and yellow Salt colors completely change the perception people have of it.

Instead of looking tactical, it looks… useful.

That yellow jacket Salt identity somehow soften its silhouette. It becomes an obvious tool before becoming a military weapon.

That surprised me.

I expected a big folder built with soldiers (of fortune), outdoorsmen and hard users in mind. And it is.

Instead I found one wasp of a folder that almost disappears into daily life despite its size.

Larger folders are often criticized for being excessive.

Sometimes that’s true. But excess is good in a sturdy piece of equipment.

I do love the Lil’Temperance in K390 which is a beast of a folder.
But when summer arrives and you’re slicing an entire watermelon, preparing vegetables for several people or working with large ingredients, blade length suddenly becomes an advantage rather than a compromise.

This is exactly where my UKPK Salt or even my Sage Salt begin to reach their limits. Blade length in the kitchen is defining the use of the knife.

These days, whenever I know I’m going to spend time doing wet work, I instinctively grab the Military 2 Salt.

If I’m cooking—or simply lending a hand in a friend’s kitchen—the Military 2 Salt usually travels in my bag, while a smaller Slipit, like the Urban, rides in my pocket. (Or a Microjimbo, Meerkat, Lil’Native…)


The same applies when I’m camping or travelling.

Peace of mind is priceless, and that’s exactly what Spyderco’s CPM Magnacut Salt knives give me.

Gurney comes along as well, bringing all the qualities I appreciate most: a high-tech blade, superb balance and effortless reliability.


Not because they’re the strongest folding knives I own.
But because they’re the ones I never have to worry about.
I know they’ll deliver—whether in terms of cutting performance, corrosion resistance or simple reliability.

Easy to deploy.
Easy to control.
Easy to clean and keep it dirty.
Easy to put back in the pocket.
Solid. Reliable. Efficient.
The Military 2 Salt has become exactly that.

A big folder to live with.
A little piece of Colorado in my pocket.

Folders, Review

Spyderco Meerkat CPM-SPY27 Sprint Run –Part II – Casper the Friendly Ghost ?

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You know how much I enjoy giving names to my knives.
Well, this Meerkat Sprint Run is going to be called Casper.

Partly because of its very friendly personality, and partly because of its famous Phantom Lock. It seemed only fitting.

Like the friendly ghost, the Meerkat is small, harmless-looking and easy to like. It quietly disappears into a pocket, only to reappear when needed. And then, of course, there is that Phantom Lock. A lock that remains hidden, mysterious and just a little magical, even after all these years.

So yes, this Meerkat has officially become Casper the friendly folder, especially toward sheeples.

Now, as many of you know, I tend to baptize my knives the traditional Nemo way: with a little bit of my own blood.

And the Meerkat did not disappoint.

Ah ! When closing the blade with a wrist flick after disengaging the Phantom Lock, make sure your middle finger is well clear of the blade’s path.
If it isn’t, it will quickly discover that the Meerkat’s edge is less friendly than its name suggests.

The closing blade comes down like a tiny guillotine, and yes, it cuts very well.

Ask me how I know. 😉

Nothing serious, just a small nick, but it serves as a useful reminder: the Meerkat may be compact and charming, yet it is still a very sharp Spyderco.



But once you start playing with the Meerkat, several things quickly become apparent.

First, it is surprisingly fidget-friendly.

Once you get the hang of it, disengaging the Phantom Lock and flicking the blade shut with a simple wrist movement becomes second nature. It is one of those knives that invites interaction. Before you know it, you find yourself opening and closing it repeatedly just for the pleasure of the mechanism. Just keep that middle finger away !

The second thing I noticed is how enjoyable the knife is to deploy using the good old Spyder Drop.
Draw !!

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I know this opening method is no longer fashionable. Nowadays, many users prefer to flick open a tip-up folder with their index finger. But the classic Spyderco opening technique—grabbing the knife by the Round Hole and snapping the blade open with a wrist flick—works wonderfully well with the Meerkat.
The reasons are simple: tip down carry and…
The handle carries a surprising amount of weight thanks to its steel liners, full backspacer and robust construction. That extra mass gives the knife excellent momentum during deployment, making the opening feel smooth, positive and satisfying.

Another pleasant surprise is the ergonomics.
Despite its compact size, the handle comfortably accommodates all four fingers. The index finger naturally settles into the choil, while even the pinky gets its own dedicated space. The result is a grip that feels far more secure and powerful than the knife’s dimensions would suggest.

Then there is the blade.

One detail genuinely surprised me.
Looking at the blade stock thickness, the Meerkat is actually thinner than the famously thin UKPK.

Meerkat: 0.096” (2.4 mm)

UKPK: 0.098” (2.5 mm)

We’re only talking about a tenth of a millimeter, but I still found it amusing.
The UKPK has long been my benchmark for a thin, high-performance cutting blade. Yet here comes this odd little Meerkat, quietly slipping underneath it.
Perhaps that helps explain why the knife feels so eager when slicing wood, food, cardboard or just about anything else.
The Meerkat may look chunky because of its stout handle and full stainless steel liners, but the blade itself is surprisingly lean.

Like many great Spydercos, it hides its elite cutting performance in plain sight.

Its generous belly and thin geometry make it an outstanding cutter. The edge remains in contact with a cutting board through much of the cutting stroke, allowing clean and efficient slicing.

I’ll admit that, despite its tiny size, I ended up doing a surprising amount of kitchen work with it. Tomatoes, vegetables, even breaking down and portioning a chicken—the little Meerkat handled everything without complaint.

Agile in hand and eager to cut, it never feels overwhelmed.

This little knife is a genuine worker.

The textured FRN scales provide excellent traction, preventing any tendency to slip during use. Equally important, I found absolutely no blade play, either vertically or laterally. That’s reassuring on a knife whose pivot is not particularly accessible for adjustment.

In actual use, the Meerkat reveals itself as an exceptionally capable travel companion.

Low profile, discreet and easy to carry, yet remarkably efficient when called upon. Much of that comes from its relatively thick handle, which provides excellent control, while the thin, tall blade slices with a combination of precision and authority that continues to surprise me.

Small sheeple friendly folder, yes but very, very, very serious cutter.
An impeccable companion that disappears into a pocket.
Ghostlike.
Always there when called upon.
And far more capable than its size would ever suggest.

Folders, Review

Spyderco Meerkat CPM-SPY27 Sprint Run – The Return of the Phantom’s Menace.

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Ah, the Meerkat and its magical Phantom Lock… Ah ah ah!
This one takes me straight back to 2002. Back to the Future, Spyderco style.
The Meerkat is one of those knives that seems to have been designed for a single purpose: making knife enthusiasts scratch their heads.
First impression? This is a very small knife. Even compared to the Chaparral.
The Chaparral owes much of its DNA to the C62 Navigator. It was a compact lockback with the same short blade (saber hollow grind) optimized for travel and office-friendly carry. It also carries forward the spirit of the C09 CoPilot, continuing Spyderco’s long tradition of creating small knives that cut far bigger than their dimensions would suggest.

Naturally, I slipped the Meerkat into my fifth pocket, where it fits absolutely perfectly. In fact, it feels like it was designed for that role.

The second thing you notice is that this little oddball is set up for tip-down carry, just like the mighty Spyderco Military. And yes, you can still perform the classic Spyderco Drop without any issue ! 🙂

In hand, the Meerkat feels like a stout little worker. The action is firm, the lock-up is rock solid, and despite its compact size, there is nothing delicate about it. Everything feels purposeful and surprisingly robust.

Then comes the Phantom Lock. The Ghost in the Shell. 😉
I have just found that video made by Wouter (Spydercollector) 16 years ago !

Just hand the knife to another knife enthusiast and watch the show begin. They open it. They admire it.
Then they try to close it.

Confusion follows.
That’s when you starts smiling. 🙂

More than twenty years later, the Phantom Lock remains one of the cleverest and most entertaining locking mechanisms Spyderco has ever produced. It’s practical, it’s secure, and above all, it’s pure Spyderco: innovative, unconventional, and just a little bit crazy. 😄

Sliding the scale to unlock the blade.

Yep, some knives are designed to sell with some tactical bells and whistles.
Others are designed to impress for their cleverness.
The Meerkat never became a mainstream Spyderco classic. It was too small for tactical enthusiasts, too weird for traditionalists, and too clever for its own good. Yet more than twenty years later, Spyderco decided to bring it back as a Sprint Run equipped with CPM-SPY27 steel and cobalt blue FRN scales.

And honestly?
I’m so glad they did !
Because the Meerkat was a knife from the future, designed twenty years ago.

And it is cute !

No, really, it remains one of the most futuristic designs ever released by Spyderco.
At first glance, it looks like a tiny leaf-shaped folder with a humpback silhouette and a blade barely longer than your thumb.
Full Flat Grind, the Spyderco Signature, deep carry clip
Then you discover the lock.
The famous Phantom Lock.
Unlike a traditional back lock, the Meerkat closes by slightly twisting the handle scales in opposite directions. The mechanism releases almost magically, making the knife feel more like a gadget from a science-fiction movie than a conventional EDC your grand’pa would have chosen in a gun show.. Even today, very few production knives offer anything remotely similar.
Sal Glesser is an inventor. He loves his craft. I still can hear his laugh when I have handing a Meerkat to a knife enthusiast, the reaction is the same: “Wait… how do you close this thing?”

Mission accomplished ! (Still confused by the Phantom Lock? Don’t worry, you’re not the first. Just push on the Spyderco logo to slide the scale. Suddenly, the magic trick reveals its secret. And you’ll soon be able to operate it with one hand.)  😉

The Meerkat carries its fully flat-ground blade measuring just over 5 cm (2inches). On paper, that sounds ridiculously small.
In practice, it slices like a miniature lightlaser.

Spyderco’s leaf-shaped blade profile has always been one of the most efficient cutting geometries in the business. Give it a thin full-flat grind and suddenly this tiny folder starts behaving like a much larger knife.

Opening parcels. Food prep. Sharing a fruit. Breaking down cardboard. Removing parcel. Protect your family against enraged bear attacks.
You name it.
The Meerkat will perform all of these tasks with surprising authority.

The blade disappears in any pockets with its deep tip down carry system.


This Sprint Run upgrades the original steel to CPM-SPY27, Spyderco’s proprietary powder metallurgy stainless steel developed with Crucible. The goal was simple: create a steel offering a balance of edge retention, toughness, corrosion resistance and ease of sharpening.

I’ve not used enough SPY27 on larger folders like a Bodacious or a Manix 2 XL to fully explore its limits, but I do understand what Spyderco was trying to achieve with what I often call their “powder metallurgy VG-10.”

My own experience with SPY27 comes mainly from a UKPK that I have nicknamed The Golden Child.

What I’ve discovered is this: SPY27 doesn’t try to win steel competitions. It simply works.
The edge stays keen for a long time, corrosion resistance is excellent, and maintenance remains refreshingly easy compared to some modern “super steels.” Much like Magnacut, SPY27 seems to love a leather strop. A few passes are often enough to bring back that crisp, shaving-sharp edge.

Many users compare its overall performance to S35VN, appreciating how straightforward it is to touch up. Perhaps they’re right. Personally, I don’t really care whether it lands closer to S30V, S35VN or S45VN.
What matters is that Spyderco consistently gets the recipe right.
Because a blade is never just an alloy.
A blade is alloy + heat treatment + geometry.

And Golden’s people understand that better than most.
What I want in 2026 is a blade steel that is easy on my mind.
A steel that won’t punish me for grabbing the wrong sharpening tool while travelling.

A steel that can be maintained without turning sharpening into a science project.

A forgiving steel.

At sixty years old, I find myself caring less about ultimate edge retention and more about living with a knife.
SPY27 feels like one of those steels that wants to work with its owner rather than against him.
For a compact EDC like the Meerkat, that balance is exactly what I want.

This is not a knife meant to chop down forests.
It is, however, a surprisingly capable whittler.
The generous belly, thin blade stock and full-flat grind simply devour wood. Whether shaping a tent peg, sharpening a stick for the barbecue or absent-mindedly carving curls while sitting by a campfire, the Meerkat performs far beyond what its dimensions would suggest.

The blade bites eagerly, tracks predictably and leaves behind clean, controlled cuts.

Small knife.
Big appetite.

Yes, it really is that powerful.

The Meerkat is a knife meant to disappear into your fifth pocket and be forgotten.

Twenty years after its introduction, that’s still what impresses me most about the Meerkat: not the Phantom Lock, not the rarity, not the nostalgia.

The fact that such a small knife cuts so ridiculously well.

The knife represents an era when Spyderco was willing to experiment with strange concepts simply because they were interesting.

Today many manufacturers chase trends.
The Meerkat reminds us of a time when designers chased ideas.
Its unusual lock, compact dimensions and unmistakable silhouette make it instantly recognizable among hundreds of modern folders.

You don’t buy a Meerkat because it is the most practical knife.
You buy it because it is unmistakably a… Meerkat.
Cute, clever and sharp.

That SPY27 Sprint Run does not reinvent the Meerkat.
Fortunately.
It preserves everything that made the original memorable while upgrading the steel to something genuinely useful for modern everyday carry.

Tiny. Strange. Ingenious. Solid, Stout. Great ergonomics for a 2 inches blade. The Meerkat remains one of the most charming oddballs ever released by Spyderco.
And in a knife world increasingly filled with tactical clones and oversized pocket swords, that may be exactly what makes it special.

Not because it is perfect. Because nothing else feels quite like it.
Invention, innovation….
Open it. Read between the line and twist the scales to close it.

The Meerkat is a jewel of a user. The kind of little big knife you can clip into a pocket every morning and completely forget about—until you need a knife. Then it reminds you exactly why it’s there.

Much like the little African animal that inspired its name, the Meerkat has a habit of suddenly popping up when something interesting needs attention. That’s part of its charm.

Disclaimer: This knife has been provided through Spyderco’s Ambassador’s program and friendship. Thank you to them for letting me review it. It felt like welcoming back an old friend I hadn’t seen in over twenty years.

If the Meerkat has piqued your curiosity, do yourself a favor and visit the website of my friend Wouter (“Mr. Blonde”). Few people know Spyderco history better than he does::
https://spydercollector.wordpress.com/tag/meerkat/

Also, there is a great thread on the Spyderco Forums featuring information, anecdotes and historical details contributed by collectors (including my friend and contributor, Robin “Ramonade):
https://forum.spyderco.com/viewtopic.php?p=1885029#p1885029

Folders, Review

PARA MILITARY® 2 LIGHTWEIGHT BROWN CPM 15V® SPRINT RUN® Part II – A major improvement spotted by Robin !

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One of the things I enjoy most about the Spyderco community is that there is always somebody curious enough to take a knife apart and look beyond the catalog specifications.

This time, that somebody was my friend Robin Hette.

In a recent video, Robin completely disassembled his new Para Military 2 Lightweight and discovered a couple of interesting details showing how Spyderco has refined the design his compression lock.

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The changes become apparent as soon as the knife is taken apart: the Compression Lock spring got now a longitudinal groove running down its center.
Its purpose appears straightforward: improving the spring’s lateral stability and reducing side-to-side movement during operation.

It’s a major modification possible only on a mold FRN scale.

Yet these are exactly the sort of details that reveal how seriously Spyderco treats continuous improvement.

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The scales tell a similar story.

Comparing Robin’s disassembled PM2 Lightweight with the his Para3 LW reveals noticeably less internal milling.
Spyderco has left more FRN in place on the PM2.

At first glance this may seem counterintuitive on a knife designed around weight reduction.
But rigidity matters too.

The additional material should provide greater structural stiffness while adding very little weight to the overall package.
The result is a handle that remains exceptionally light while feeling even more robust.

That philosophy of Constant Quality Improvement has defined Spyderco for decades.
Observe.
Test.
Improve.
Repeat.

Thanks to Robin’s curiosity—and willingness to completely tear down his knife—we get a rare glimpse of that process in action.

The latest PM2 Lightweight under its scales, however, it tells a familiar Spyderco story:

“Good enough has never been good enough.” 😉
So, kudos to Eric Glesser and the Spyderco team for continuing to push the envelope.

But enough about engineering. What’s the PM2 Lightweight actually like to live with?

Well, let’s just say it’s a lot more pleasant than trying to get an AI image generator to accurately reproduce a knife model from reference photos. 🙂

But…Now imagine…
It’s dark in the basement.
You’ve had a long day. You’re tired. Nothing seems to go quite as planned. You need a sharp tool. Anything !
For a moment, you think you don’t have one.
Then you remember. Your knife should be sitting in your right front pocket. Exactly where it has been all day. So light that you forgot it was there. So comfortable that it never demanded your attention until the precise moment you needed it.

A few ounces of FRN. A blade in CPM 15V. Or K390. Or MagnaCut.
It doesn’t really matter. It could be that new PM2 Lightweight Sprintrun. It could be the built-like-tank Lil’ Temperance Lightweight in K390. It could be the sleak Sage 5 Salt Lightweight in MagnaCut.

Different knives. Same philosophy. But that PM2 Lightweight pushes really the concept one step further.
No stainless steel liners. Just enough material to hold together one of the most capable folders Spyderco has ever designed.
A reliable cutting tool so light that I forget it’s there—until the moment I need it.

And that’s the whole point: the best pocket knife isn’t the one you admire all day long. It’s the one you completely forget about—right up until it does exactly what it’s supposed to do.
That’s what Lightweight means.: “When you need it, it’s already there.”

I recently used the PM2 Lightweight in a French pub to slice some rather excellent chili dry sausage on a wooden board. The pub had kindly provided a knife, of course. I didn’t use it. Instead, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the PM2 LW. Same size as the dull kitchen knife provided.
Nobody noticed that PM2 LW. Not a single glance. Not a single raised eyebrow. The sausage, however, attracted plenty of attention.

By the end of the evening, everyone had enjoyed a few slices and a few beers.
The PM2 simply returned to my pocket, unnoticed.

And somehow, that feels like the ultimate compliment for an everyday carry knife.

Mine has also been used in all condition, and for kitchen duty, my own PM2 Lightweight in CPM15V is starting to develop that beloved slight patina after processing several kilos of fresh tomatoes.
That’s perfectly normal for CPM 15V. A little discoloration is simply part of the deal.

A pocket knife that never shows signs of use is usually a pocket knife that isn’t being used enough, don’t you think ?

So far, the PM2 Lightweight has proven itself to be a reliable and faithful companion.
The color of the FRN scales on this particular version won’t appeal to everyone. Personally, I rather like it.
Combined with the stonewashed blade, it creates a surprisingly discreet package.
A kind of visual camouflage. The knife doesn’t draw attention to itself.

And that’s another quality I look for in an everyday carry knife: civilian stealth.
Not stealth in the tactical sense. Stealth in the social sense.
The ability to be perceived as a tool rather than a weapon.

A good EDC knife should solve problems, open packages, slice food, cut cardboard and occasionally rescue a stubborn piece of string.
It doesn’t need to announce its presence.

That PM2 Lightweight excels at exactly that. Despite its relatively generous blade length, it remains remarkably unthreatening in appearance. The muted gray-green handle and stonewashed finish help it blend into everyday life, where it belongs.

After all, the best EDC knife is rarely the one that attracts the most attention. It’s the one that quietly gets the job done without attracting any at all like a silent companion.

Part 1 is here:
https://nemoknivesreview.com/2026/05/09/para-military-2-lightweight-brown-cpm-15v-sprint-run-let-there-be-light-again/

Folders, Review

“Spirit” – Des Horn 450# – A Whisper of Steel in a World Obsessed with Noise

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In the rarefied atmosphere of high-end custom knives, true elegance rarely announces itself loudly. It reveals itself slowly — through proportion, restraint, tactility, and detail. The Des Horn 450# belongs to this vanishing category of objects: creations that do not merely impress, but seduce.

This is my second folder from my friend Des Horn. (I have known Des and Linda for nearly twenty years now. Des Horn is a true legend in knifemaking — a master of his craft, and above all, a gentleman.)
The first folder was a beautiful Imvubu that was unfortunately confiscated at airport security after traveling clandestinely beneath my wallet. I was absolutely convinced my pockets were knifeless — until the metal detector disagreed.
Watching it disappear into the security tray was genuinely heartbreaking. Losing such an elegant piece because I was sprinting to catch a flight for a TF1 reportage made the whole scene feel even more absurd. Some objects are replaceable. A Des Horn never truly is.

Des knew about this very first-world tragedy, and after nearly ten years I finally decided it was time to own another of his beautiful knives. I asked him which folder, among all his creations, was his personal favorite.
His answer came immediately: “The 450#. My favorite.”


(Pictured here is the 450# my friend Jan Dirk has bought from him 15 years ago. Perhaps JD’s favorite in all his collection. Actually Pascal Jaffre also have one…)

He told me he would find a particularly unusual piece of carbon fiber for it and also:
“This one has a “2K” finish .
Very tough and durable and is used on exotic cars to finish the carbon fibre. It was the only one I had finished without a clip.”


And then came the part that genuinely left me speechless: this special 450# was a gift from Des Horn for my 60th birthday !!!
In a world where so many luxury objects are reduced to transactions, gestures like this carry something infinitely more valuable: humanity, generosity, and the quiet bond between two friends.
I will remain forever grateful. Thank you Des and Linda.

At just 26 grams, the knife found its name almost immediately: Spirit. Spirit of Cape Town.
Partly for its impossible lightness, as if the knife itself barely belonged to the physical world. And partly for what the French so beautifully call la part des anges — the angel’s share — that invisible portion reserved for time, memory, and things too precious to truly possess. A knife this light almost feels immaterial. A gift like this certainly does like a whisper of steel…


Spirit is less a cutting instrument than a study in modern aristocratic design. At first glance, it appears almost understated. There are no aggressive lines, no tactical theatrics, no oversized hardware screaming for attention. Instead, the knife radiates the confidence of an object that knows exactly what it is.

And what it is, precisely, is one of the most refined lady and gentleman’s folders ever conceived.

The first sensation delivered by the 450# is disbelief.

Lift it, and the knife nearly disappears in the hand. Versions executed in marbled carbon fiber and Nitrobe 77 steel have achieved almost mythical status among collectors for their featherlight construction — a level of portability more often associated with luxury writing instruments than with precision folders. Yet despite its ethereal mass, the knife feels structurally complete, almost architectural.

This paradox defines the genius of Des Horn.

Spirit (like all 450#) is not designed around brute force. It is designed around intelligent refinement. Every millimeter exists for a reason. The slim silhouette slips effortlessly into tailored trousers or the inner pocket of a cashmere jacket, becoming part of the wearer rather than an accessory imposed upon him.

In an era obsessed with excess, the 450# celebrates discretion.
It is housed in a beautiful buffalo leather pouch, a cocoon-like case designed to protect it from pocket dust and daily abrasion. Simple, tactile, and perfectly in tune with the object it carries — an understated sheath for something already defined by discretion and refinement.

Once in your hand, the action itself is an exercise in restraint.
Unlike modern folders engineered for theatrical deployment, the 450# front flipper unfolds with subtle precision. The movement feels intimate, almost private — a mechanism intended for connoisseurs rather than spectators. The blade opens with silky assurance, revealing tolerances that reflect decades of accumulated craftsmanship.
It is also fully ambidextrous — intuitive, balanced, and genuinely enjoyable to handle. That sense of play is not incidental; it is part of the design language.
Because beyond precision and materials, pleasure matters. Fun, tactile satisfaction, and the simple desire to interact with the object are essential parts of how I evaluate and experience it.

The blade is crafted from Nitrobe 77.
Ah… another legendary steel.
Revered among enthusiasts for its extraordinary corrosion resistance and exceptional cutting performance, Nitrobe 77 manages to combine qualities that rarely coexist: hardness, toughness, edge retention, and remarkable flexibility.
It takes — and keeps — an incredibly sharp edge, while remaining astonishingly resilient under stress. Des himself has demonstrated its elasticity in some videos that almost seem unreal the first time you watch them. And for those familiar with the world of performance steels, seeing Shawn Houston — the magician behind CPM 15V heat treatments for Spyderco — speak highly of Nitrobe 77 says a great deal about the material’s reputation among serious knife people.


Quoting Shawn on the Bladeforums:

“Nitrobe77 has 0.9% wt N which it uses some of to make nitrogen martensite like lc200n. Some of that nitrogen total is locked up as Cr2N that dissolves at the temperatures N77 requires to harden. That nitrogen put in solution will become nitrogen martensite when quenched. The nitrogen that did not dissolve stayed behind in a nice, small compliment of Niobium rich nitrides (MN type/NbN) which don’t dissolve in the Chromium and Austenite as readily as the Vanadium at the temperatures required to harden Hence why we have Nb dominant MN type. These Nitrides are just not at enough volume to make this steel a “rope killer”

The Nitrobe 77 is unique thanks to it’s ability to get harder than the other Nitrogen martensite rich steels like Lc200n thanks to being designed for precipitation strengthening. Using liquid nitrogen cryogenics and multiple high tempers after quenching allows the steel to raise up in HRC each cycle after hardening thanks to converting retained austenite that didn’t transform from quenching to hard martensite and also the nitrides precipitating from the martensite and coarsening to the necessary sizes to strengthen the steel to resist displacement and make up for the shrinking of martensite.

It is possibly the best sharpening steel in the world and can operate at 62-64rc, The Nitriding process combined with this chemistry and volume makes a fine structured steel. The wear resistance is not super high however.

Nitrobe77 is one of my favorite steels but unfortunately due to cost, difficulty making at the steel mill and it not being cost effective to heat treat mass production. It has finally been discontinued by Damasteel as of 2018, they kept it alive for a long while.

I feel Des Horn has done some amazing work with Nitrobe 77 and had helped the steel persist for a long time @Deshorn”

Des Horn heat-treated the Nitrobe 77 blade through a triple-cycle process, each stage followed by a carefully controlled cryogenic quench in liquid nitrogen. Three heat treatments. Three deep freezes. A complex sequence designed for pure performance — pushing Nitrobe 77 to its best toughness, and edge stability.

The phrase “gentleman’s folder” has become tragically diluted in recent years, attached indiscriminately to any small knife wearing carbon fiber. I feel like that 450# restores dignity to the term.

(My friend Robin had the opportunity to meet Des at Solingen 2026 Knife Show. He was the one who brought “Spirit” to me.
He even made a pic comparing the Spyderco C153GP and the custom made 450#.)

The 450# is a knife conceived for cultivated environments: the desk of an architect in Capetown, the leather seat of an Aston Martin crossing Mayfair, the quiet ritual of opening correspondence in a private office lined with walnut and books.
It is the kind of personal knife John Steed or Emma Peel might have carried — discreetly elegant, technically refined, and perfectly at home beside a tailored suit or inside the glove compartment of a vintage Bentley.

But like in The Avengers, one should never confuse kindness with weakness.
John Steed and Emma Peel always carried themselves with a kind of effortless civility that concealed something far more formidable beneath the surface.
Spirit follows the same logic.

(And what about the New Avengers? A testament to that spirit is the collaborative work Des has done with James Purdey & Sons, creating a knife truly worthy of the Purdey name. Fans of Joanna Lumley will especially appreciate the reference.)


It may be feather-light in the hand, but it is anything but fragile. The marriage of advanced carbon fiber and Nitrobe 77 gives it a structural toughness that belies its weight. This is not delicacy — it is engineered resilience, refined to the point of invisibility. Hard as a nail, yes — but with the composure of something that never needs to prove it.

(And yes, it slices through plastic bottle bottoms like they’re made of warm butter…)

Ironically, its liner lock would also make it thoroughly unlawful in today’s UK. And yet, beneath its understated sophistication lies some remarkably serious engineering. The lock bar itself is crafted from Grade 5 titanium and fitted with a silicon nitride detent ball rated at an astonishing HRC 93. Tiny details perhaps — but precisely the kind that reveal the obsessive level of refinement behind a Des Horn folder.

And like all great luxury objects, it communicates identity.
Carrying a Des Horn does not suggest aggression or preparedness.
It suggests discernment.

I heard that among serious collectors, the 450# has acquired an almost cult-like reputation precisely because it avoids spectacle. Owners speak of the knife with unusual affection, describing it less as gear and more as a companion piece — something lived with daily and appreciated continuously.

(Des holding his personal 450# at a dinner after the SICAC 2025 in Paris…)

Over more than four decades, Des Horn has developed a design language that blends technical mastery with sculptural sensitivity. His work often incorporates rare materials sourced from Africa itself: Gibeon meteorite, pietersite gemstones, mammoth ivory, hand-engraved titanium, and complex Damascus steels. (His workshop is so clean you could eat on the floor.)

Yet despite these exotic ingredients, his 450# never descends into ornament for ornament’s sake. Even the most elaborate versions retain purity of line and proportion.
That discipline is what separates luxury from mere decoration.

(With no choil, Spirit actually offers more usable edge length than the Golden Child.)

Because true luxury has never been about being seen. It has always been about knowing.
And Des Horn knows.
He understands la part des anges — that invisible fraction of perfection that can never be fully owned, only sensed. He understands the spirit of a blade not as an object, but as a living balance of steel, geometry, heat, and intention.
And perhaps that is what sets his work apart: not just mastery of materials, but an almost philosophical restraint — the ability to let excellence remain quiet.

Spirit pictured between a Spyderco Proficient and Pekka Tuominen Urban II.

Des Horn showcasing one of his true gems of a knife.

Folders, Review

PARA MILITARY® 2 LIGHTWEIGHT BROWN CPM 15V® SPRINT RUN® — Let there be light again ! Part 1

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There are knives that become products, and there are knives that become dialects.
The Spyderco Para Military 2 since its inception belongs firmly to the second category.

For sixteen years, the PM2 has occupied a rare position in the knife world: not merely respected, but culturally embedded. Made in Golden Colorado USA Earth, designed in the lineage of the original C36 Military model and its offspring the Paramilitary 1 from 2004, the Paramilitary 2 refined the formula into something more agile, more urban, more universally wearable.
Key improvements introduced in 2010 were:
Ergonomics: Thinner, refined G-10 handle.
Mechanism: New Bushing Pivot System for smoother action.
Clip: 4-position pocket spoon clip.
Blade: Slightly thinner blade profile with an elongated tip.
From there, the Spyderco Paramilitary 2 quickly established itself as a modern classic in the knife industry. It also became the most compelling ambassador for Spyderco’s in-house Compression Lock system, turning simple fidgeting into something unexpectedly addictive.

Its full-flat, leaf-shaped blade geometry delivers near-universal utility — a fine, precise tip paired with a confident, efficient cutting edge. In use, it feels less like compromise and more like calibration.

And then there is the ergonomics: that unmistakable Spyderco palm swell and forward choil, which transform hard tasks into something almost composed, almost effortless.

Even AI now generates imaginary PM2 variants — sometimes hilariously inaccurate ones with back locks — which says a lot about how deeply the Spyderco Paramilitary 2 has embedded itself into modern knife/EDC culture.

Because the PM2 was never just a tactical folder. It became the Porsche 911 of contemporary EDC: instantly recognizable across a room, endlessly reinterpreted, yet impossible to mistake for anything else but one of the Spyderco Millie family.

And yet, for all its success, the classic PM2 always carried a subtle contradiction.
It was a knife celebrated for everyday carry that still weighed like a “serious” tool. A tool which floats like a butterfly but sting like a bee.
So, the same process which turned its little brother Para3 G10 into Para3 Lightweight has been applied: get rid of G10 scales and bring the Fiber Renforced Resin / FRN !


The new Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Lightweight changes that entirely.

At roughly 76 grams, the PM2 LW does not feel like a trimmed-down PM2.
It feels like an entirely different interpretation of the design.
To put that into perspective, it is even 16 grams lighter than the Spyderco MicroJimbo — a knife already considered compact and featherweight by EDC standards.

Compared to the classic G-10 PM2, the difference becomes almost startling: 32 grams gone, dropping from 108 grams to just 76.
That is nearly a 30% reduction in weight.

Edge-wise, the blade-to-weight ratio is remarkable — and decisively in favour of the Spyderco Paramilitary 2. 😉
Oh well, I’m joking — these two knives were never meant to compete.
They simply occupy different territories of utility, and both earn their place in my pocket for different reasons.
Still, this new Lightweight feels like the moment Spyderco finally allowed the PM2 to become what it was always destined to be: not merely lighter, but almost spectral. The Para3 LW vibes haves been compared to the Delica. The PM2 got the Endura’s: a ghost of a knife you completely forget is clipped to your pocket… until the exact second you need it.
Another clue?
The clip.
Look closely.

The deep-carry clip makes the knife feel even stealthier in the pocket, almost invisible in daily carry.
Tip-up only, though.
It’s not exactly a pocket shredder, but it’s not the gentlest on pocket seams either — even if the clip geometry and FRN patterning have clearly been tuned to make deployment and carry as smooth as possible.

In my view, the central “medallion” on the Spyderco Para 3 (pictured here) feels more refined and better resolved visually. It has a cleaner, more intentional integration into the design.

Here, on the PM2, it simply reads “Para Military 2” — which feels oddly understated. Curiously, the Spyderco name itself is nowhere to be found on that element, a surprising omission for such an iconic model.

But then again, this is exactly the kind of detail enthusiasts obsess over.

Personally, I prefer the FRN molding of the Spyderco Para 3 Lightweight in the epicenter of the pattern — it feels slightly more refined and cohesive. On the other hand, I find the Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Lightweight superior around the Compression Lock interface and the access to the Spyderhole, both of which feel more open, more natural, and ultimately more satisfying in use.

The handle transformation comes primarily through the FRN handle — fiberglass reinforced nylon — a material longtime knife enthusiasts still love to debate with almost religious intensity. Traditionalists often associate premium folders with layered G-10, titanium, or carbon fiber. FRN, by comparison, can seem almost too practical, too honest about its intentions. Forums discussions around Spyderco’s lightweight models reveal the familiar divide: some users still perceive FRN as less luxurious, while others praise its traction, comfort, and remarkable reduction in carry fatigue.
One thing is certain: FRN brings a significant leap in ergonomics.

You can see how the design has been subtly refined to erase the boxy, almost overbuilt feel of the G-10 version.
Spyderco’s history with FRN stretches back through legendary lightweight models like the Spyderco Delica, Spyderco Endura and the Spyderco Salt Series — knives that became icons precisely because they vanished into the pocket while remaining utterly dependable in dirty, wet, unforgiving environments.
The people at Golden has spent decades refining FRN into something uniquely their own. On a Spyderco, FRN is not budget plastic. It is engineered utility.
The texture, invented by Sal Glesser, is the key.

That bidirectional pattern grips the hand with a kind of mechanical confidence — less refined than blasted titanium perhaps, but more secure when life becomes sweaty, cold, rushed, or imperfect.

What makes the Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Lightweight genuinely fascinating is not merely its weight reduction, but the engineering compromise Spyderco somehow refused to make.
Because removing mass from a back lock or liner lock is relatively straightforward.
Removing mass from a Compression Lock platform is something else entirely.
The Compression Lock is one of the defining mechanical signatures of Spyderco — a brilliantly elegant system designed by Sal Glesser that combines strength, fluidity and one-handed safety with an almost addictive tactile character. But unlike simpler locking systems, it traditionally depends on nested steel liners and a rigid chassis architecture.

In other words: it was never meant to live inside an ultralight FRN body.
That is the hidden tour de force of the PM2 Lightweight.

Spyderco did not simply shave material away from the classic design. They had to rethink how the Compression Lock itself could survive — and still feel reassuringly precise — inside a platform whose entire philosophy is flexibility, lightness and minimal structure.

FRN has a very different mechanical behavior from G-10.
It flexes differently. Resonates differently. Carries load differently.
The scale’s edges can feel a touch sharp/aggressive out of the box, but I usually knock the initial bite down slightly with my thumbnail.
Not a big deal.

And yet, in hand, the PM2 LW still delivers that familiar Compression Lock experience: the sharp metallic click, the secure lockup, the controlled drop-shut feel, the confidence under pressure. The knife retains the mechanical identity of a “real” PM2 despite having shed nearly a third of its weight.

That balance is far harder to achieve than most users realize.

Too much liner removal, and the knife begins to feel hollow or vague.
Too much FRN flex, and the lock loses its aura of precision.
Too much steel reinforcement, and the entire Lightweight philosophy collapses under its own contradiction.

Spyderco somehow threaded the needle.
In hand, the result is fascinating because the PM2 LW does not feel cheap, nor stripped-down. It feels optimized — almost industrially purified. As though the designers kept asking themselves a brutal question:
“How little knife can we leave… before it stops feeling like a PM2?”
And the answer, apparently, was 76 grams.

So who, exactly, is this new Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Lightweight really made for?
Not the collector seeking desk-jewel materials.
Not the enthusiast who wants maximal heft and polished mechanical theater.
This PM2 is for people who actually carry a knife every day and do not want to feel it in their pocket. Like a ghost… a spirit.
For the light traveler, moving through the world in technical fabrics and ultralight luggage — absolutely yes. The Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Lightweight is exactly on point.
For the architect, photographer, paramedic, cyclist, climber, sailor, or city commuter who notices every unnecessary gram.
For those in the field where every gram really matters — soldiers, paratroopers, operators, and anyone carrying their world on their person — the Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Lightweight makes immediate sense.
For the those who slips a knife into athletic shorts and forgets it exists until the moment it is needed.
And when needed, the action remains fluid , smooth and effortless, while the absence of heft is almost disorienting at first. This is where the name Lightweight stops being a designation and becomes an identity — carried here to its purest, most unapologetic expression.
Yes—there is something almost pure in handling this Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Lightweight, something slightly disorienting in its lightness. Almost paradoxical.
Elegant, refined, stripped to essentials — and yet fully present in the hand.
It doesn’t try to impress through mass or presence anymore. Instead, it disappears, and that absence becomes the experience itself.
As the late Mark Hollis (*) once suggested, “Only silence is more beautiful than music…” and in a strange way, that idea translates surprisingly well here.
This almost weightless refinement might be the closest thing cutlery has to silence: a design so resolved it no longer insists on its own existence, only its function.

The genius of the Lightweight is psychological as much as physical. A heavy knife asks for commitment. A 76 grams PM2 becomes invisible — and invisibility is the highest achievement in EDC design.

Ironically, reducing the weight also sharpens the very essence of the PM2 itself. The famous blade suddenly feels more dominant, more alive. Several early owners have described the sensation as though “all the weight is in the blade,” giving the knife a startling immediacy in hand.

Pictured beside a 120-gram Spyderco Military 2, the contrast becomes almost absurd.
Of course, the Lightweight will not seduce everyone.

Some users will always prefer the denser, almost bank-vault solidity of G-10 scales and full steel liners. Others simply enjoy the tactile indulgence of heavier materials. (I once installed Flytanium bronze scales on a Spyderco Para 3. The result was magnificent — and roughly as subtle as carrying a ship anchor.)

And that is perfectly fair, because the classic G-10 Spyderco Paramilitary 2 remains one of the greatest production folders ever created.

But the Lightweight introduces something unexpectedly contemporary to the platform: efficiency without compromise.

This particular example happens to be a Sprint Run equipped with CPM 15V — a truly high-octane alloy. Yet the steel is almost secondary to the broader philosophy behind the knife. Much like the celebrated 15V Para 3 Lightweight before it, this PM2 LW pairs one of the most extreme high-performance steels available with an astonishingly light 76-gram platform.


The CPM 15V Sprint Run is the enthusiast’s reading of the idea — a limited-production exercise in maximum performance taken to its logical edge. 15V itself borders on the extreme in the best possible way. With an unusually high vanadium content of nearly 15%, it was developed for exceptional wear resistance and outstanding edge retention. In Spyderco’s implementation, it is further elevated by Shawn Houston’s specialised heat treatment, identifiable by the discreet “Triple B” mark engraved on the blade.

The beautifully stonewashed blade arrives with an edge that is immediately convincing — thin, precise, and unmistakably sharp straight out of the box. In my experience, it may well be one of the finest factory edges Spyderco has ever delivered. Hair-popping performance is effortless, almost casual, and geometrically speaking, even the informal “bottle” or light push-cut tests feel almost trivial. Much better than on my Para 3.

Oh well, the exotic steel may attract the headlines.
(As a bit of a steel enthusiast, CTS-BD1N on the “vanilla” Spyderco Paramilitary 2 Lightweight doesn’t really excite me — it’s solid, reliable, easy to keep razor sharp, forgiving but uninspiring. I wouldn’t seek it out like I would CPM Cruwear steel, but I’d never pass on a great design just because of it.)

But the real story lies elsewhere: the revelation that one of the most iconic hard-use folders ever produced can suddenly feel almost effortless, friction less… pure.

Not diminished.
Distilled.
Purified.
And distillation brings spirit.
Spirit is light.
And this purity is no lie.

Part II is here:
https://nemoknivesreview.com/2026/06/01/para-military-2-lightweight-brown-cpm-15v-sprint-run-part-ii-a-major-improvement-spotted-by-robin/

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. 

(*) For a musician and singer, Mark Hollis is unusually interested in silence, in what could be described as the gaps and intervals between notes. To listen to Spirt of Eden (1988) and Laughing Stock(1991), the last two albums by Talk Talk, the band of which he was singer and principal songwriter for more than a decade, is to encounter a music of fragments and dissolution, his murmured vocals often simply fading away as a song does not so much end as expire.

Advice, Folders, Review

The Serrations of the Everyday — Notes on a Serrated Magnacut UKPK enhance with titanium scales.

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There are objects we own, and others that, through use, quietly become extensions of our hand. The UKPK in Magnacut—here in its serrated form, dressed in Heinnie’s Titech titanium scales—belongs firmly to the latter. Not a piece to be admired at a distance, but one to be lived with. Everyday. Tested. Carried without ceremony.
This tool is low profile but with an hungry edge.

What strikes first is the paradox. A familiar, ergonomic silhouette—born from a will shaped by strict legal constraints—yet delivering a level of cutting performance that feels anything but limited. That serrated edge does not flatter at first glance. It unsettles some, even repels others. And that is precisely where its relevance begins.

Because real life does not deal in ideal materials or perfect technique. A slice of cooling pizza, a stubborn thread, double-wall cardboard, an electrical cable—each offers a different resistance. Where a plain edge demands precision, serrations adapt. They bite and initiate cuts. From a caresse to firm push cuts, using thin SpyderEdge serrations is an escalation in my cutting intentions. I need that material to be cut fast !!
It helps a lot when you cut a label in a store without to be noticed (once you bought it of course…)

In this configuration, Magnacut reveals a deeper character. I had noticed it on the wonderful Chief Salt . Its reputation is well established, but it is in repetition—across mundane, unremarkable tasks—that it truly asserts itself. Edge retention ceases to be a technical metric and becomes something tangible.
Days pass, materials accumulate, and yet the initial sensation—a ready, immediate hungry bite—remains intact with a quiet, almost disconcerting consistency. That makes a real difference for an EDC.

It is telling that even its own designer, Sal Glesser, found himself rediscovering the knife through this serrated Magnacut expression.

Notice my “preaching to the choir” post 😄

This is a genuine sense of surprise at the endurance of the edge, accompanied by a nod to Larrin Thomas, whose metallurgical work made this steel possible. This is more than technical acknowledgment; it is recognition of a rare alignment between design intent and material innovation.

The titanium scales subtly shift the relationship further. The knife gains density, heft and presence. I just love that. It’s no more a lightweight though but the tactile experience becomes cooler, more deliberate. There is something almost architectural about it—a structure defined as much by its material honesty as by its purpose, ready to meet the unpredictability of daily use by sea, air or land.

Over time, what emerges is a quiet redefinition of the serrated edge itself. Long confined to specialized roles—rescue, rope, marine environments—it finds here a broader legitimacy. Not as an alternative to the plain edge, but as a different philosophy of cutting. More instinctive. More pragmatic.

I have felt the same with the Chaparral serrated, offering those performance in a lady/gentleman format. The UKPK offers a longer blade but a legal solution.

The serrated Chaparral brings this same idea into a more restrained, almost tailored format—slim, discreet, almost polite in profile, yet unexpectedly serious once it starts working. It’s the kind of tool that disappears into a pocket and reappears only when needed, delivering performance without ever looking like it intends to.

The UKPK serrated Magnacut, on the other hand, pushes the concept further in a different direction. Same underlying logic, but with more reach, more cutting length, more immediate utility when the task scales up. It’s not trying to be more aggressive—it simply extends the capability envelope while staying within a legal framework that forces discipline into the design.

Put together, they sketch an interesting continuum rather than a category:
the thinner Chaparral as refined minimalism with bite, the thin UKPK as everyday legality stretched to its most useful expression.

Different formats, same underlying surprise: serrations stop being “special-purpose” and start behaving like a perfectly normal, highly efficient everyday cutting system !

To reach for a serrated blade to cut burger or break down a box should no longer feel unusual. If anything, it is where this knife feels most at home. Its modernity lies not in spectacle, but in normalization—in making high performance feel natural within the ordinary.

The serrated Magnacut UKPK does not argue its case. It does not need to. It simply works—and in doing so, it quietly resets expectations.

Low-profile in the pocket, yet unmistakably assertive at the edge, it pairs a hungry, enduring bite with a reassuringly solid construction. All of it contained within a form that remains legally acceptable in many places—an understated balance of restraint and capability.

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 fork 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 because it is strong !!

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. 🙂

Now my Spyderco UKPK Salt has developed a beautifully smooth action paired with a reassuringly strong mechanism. The mid-stop produces a crisp, satisfying clang that subtly signals quality. It’s a pleasure to handle, with a confidently positive open position that inspires trust every time.

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

From The Edge To The Point Since 1995