All posts by nemosandman

Journalist Reporter Filmmaker Author Photograph Sharpener... "And I feel like a knife, these days are calling I feel like a knife, sharpened like steel Touched by the hand of the gods on these golden mornings I feel like a knife for you." "KNIFE" Justin Sullivan 1991
Folders, Review

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

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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.

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

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.

Link here for the forums

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

I have now installed some Titech Titanium Scales exclusive from Heinnie.
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 —