A How-to Guide for Making Boat Knives

Seeing as how I neglected this blog for so long, which I guess is a big no-no, I am going to post two in rapid succession, which I would assume is also a no-no. I am just full of no-nos lately.

But! Here it is.

A Guide on Making Your Very Own Boat Knife

I decided to post this because 

1. I made a boat knife.
2. Boat Knifes are super duper specialty. You ain't gonna come across them unless you're looking.
3. When you do come across them, they're expensive as crap.

So once again, here we go.

Kyle's Guide to Making a Halfway Decent Boat Knife

Halfway Decent, am I right?

Needed Supplies:

• One (1) Dolla dolla bill. The kind with George Washington's face on it.
• A hacksaw, with metal blade. (As in a blade designed to cut metal. Not just one made from metal.)
• Maybe a sharpie. It'd be a good idea in my opinion. But hey, your choice I guess.
• A Place to cut something with a hacksaw (I feel like I am giving away the whole article here.)
• A Grinder. This kind of grinder.
• Drill/Drill Press with a 1/4" or 1/6" drill bit. Whatever looks right.

Step One: Forget actually making the knife, what am I, a blacksmith? The answer is hell no, I am not a blacksmith. If you are a blacksmith, stop reading now. Mainly because the rest of this article may make you cry for your lost art.

What you are going to do my friend, is find a knife. Look in stores, or if you're cheap like me, look at garage sales. I picked up a knife for the super duper price of $1. You want the knife you buy to be larger than the size of the boat knife you want. Don't let it be a wimpy knife either, make sure it's pretty strong, not too flexible. Just because it costs one dolla dolla bill doesn't mean you get to be sloppy.

Step Two (Optional Perhaps?): Sharpie on this knife. See the Boat Knife within the Dolla Dolla Knife, and use your sharpie to bring out the inner beauty. By this I mean block out the length and shape of your knife, as so :

Notice I got impatient and started cutting before getting

the idea to write this article as a joke.

You see that rounded edge? That's what I sharpied. It's optional because if you're the best (around!) Then you could probably just cut and grind this knife out without the sharpie.

Step Three: From here, we get down to business. Line that hacksaw up with the longest part of your boat knife, and start sawing. Cut the rest of that stuff off. The goal is to cut off all of the blade that isn't straight. You don't want the blade to come to a point at all, because if it drops 100 feet to deck, that is really going to ruin someone's day. 

Hopefully that explains it pretty well. After you've cut off the part that comes to a point, we move on to step four.

Step Four: Use the grinder to  make the flat edge you have rounded like in that poorly drawn picture. Slowly grind out the rounded shape, making sure to stay safe in the process. If you need, get a friend to help out.

The toilet paper in the back has been made

fireproof and is not a hazard. Of course.

After grinding that out, congratulations, your pretty much done.

Step Five: Turn to the butt end of you knife, the wooden end (It is wooden, right?) and drill a hole. Its for your seine twine lanyard of course.

Your done.

Congratulations, go sharpen and enjoy the thing. You just saved over $100.

© Kyle Packer

The End of the End of the Beginning (The Finally Arriving Part 2 of 2)

It was the last day of the race across Lake Superior. The finish line was within sight to the east. Or maybe not, my eyesight is pretty bad. The expectation was to cross the finish line sometime during the next few hours, in first place no less, but there was some solid competition on the horizon.

Several miles north of us, one of the other ships had picked up some strong winds, and was closing the gap to the finish line rapidly. The lake itself had also decided to get in on the action. Waves were swelling and breaking across the deck, no small feat to do to the Niagara.

These obviously weren't enough factors to make the race exciting, so on addition to this the mates had decided to romantically caress a boundary line in an attempt to really squeeze out every drop of the lead we had. By romantically caressing, I mean that the captain said something along the lines of, "Try to avoid going to the right too much, we are about 20 feet from the boundary lines, we'll get disqualified if we cross it." Seeing as I was helping to steer the ship as he said this, I'm fairly sure my eyes about bugged out of my head. No pressure.

The race was close, and as the waves continued to break over the deck and soak us, the finish line drew closer and closer. The gap between the other ships and us closed rapidly, and it was a nail biter for a bit. But we crossed the finish line cheering, jumping, removing clothes in victorious fashion, and cheering some more. The Niagara had crossed first.

Of course, in the end there was something about time trials, and it ended up that we made third place after the application of what seems to be some 'Pretty Fancy Rules' by my standards. But really, it wasn't the racing that made my time on the Niagara. What turned my landlubber's interest in sailing into a full-blown passion would definitely be the people I met, and the ideals that make the tall ships work.

The people are definitely some of the best you can come across. Maybe a bit coarse by some standards, but it's hard not to love 'em, what with all the struggles and wonderful moments you share. If you can get over the initial stench, it only gets better from there.  As for the ideals, I just do well in any environment that fosters learning and teaching, and values a good work ethic.

And the views. The views kick ass. Going back this summer should be a blast.