German hunting trousse, part VI

It took a long time for me to decide what to do about the fork.  I eventually came up with a solution, sort of, because the project is now going in a somewhat different direction.  We're starting with a period two-tined fork from Crazy Crow (the buffalo horn scale version only because it's the cheapest).

The first step is to remove the scales. I first wrapped the tines in a scrap of soft leather, clamped them firmly in a vise, and ground off the ends of the pins with the angle grinder flap disc in case they were peened.  They may not have been, although making the pins shorter can't hurt with the next step.  Grinding animal horn does produce a foul odor, so it would've been worth either doing outdoors or by less aggressive means (or avoiding altogether) if possible.  Luckily, I have a basement to work in.

I next gradually jimmied the scales off the tang.  This is made much easier by the fact that they aren't secured with any kind of glue.  In fact, the stuff between the scales and tang is a greasy, grimy substance similar to oil-based clay.  That might even be what it is.  I don't know why it's there, but maybe it helps prevent rust.

There was already a tiny but noticeable gap between the tang and one scale.  I inserted an X-Acto blade tip-first, first at one end, then the middle, then closer to the bolster, and continued until the gap had opened up all along one scale.  I switched to the other scale, which was loosening up, then expanded the gap with a thicker knife blade until the scales could be yanked off.

I drew the new shape of the tang on with a paint pen, then it was time for more angle grinding, and finished up by filing the edges smooth and polishing them with grades of sandpaper.

The last step in modifying the metal part itself was to straighten the tines in a vise so that they would more easily slide into the sheath.  This was not difficult - the fork appears to be made of mild or un-hardened steel - but it did result in the tines having a slightly wavy profile.

German hunting trousse, part V

I've concluded that this unidentified steel is much harder than I'd expected.  I annealed the tang several more times, switched between different sizes of drill bits, broke four or five, and endured much screeching noises before managing to create all the small pilot holes.

In the end, I locked the blade in a vise and gradually widened the holes with a 1/8-inch round file held in a pair of pliers.  When the holes were large enough that the file slid through easily, I ran the 1/8-inch drill bit through each one from both sides, then tried to make it a shade larger with a 9/64-inch bit.  This worked for three of them, but not the remaining two.  I settled for making the holes large enough that the nickel silver pin stock would slide through without much difficulty, which is all that's really needed.

I concluded the week's work by smoothing the reshaped tang edges with a rasp, then polishing them with sandpaper up to 1500 grit and finally the Dremel's wire wheel.  The sandpaper failed to take all the rasp's scratch marks out, but they're only visible on close inspection and I'm not too ashamed.

Image dumping ground

I've decided to start a page which will consist of just images that I need URLs for.  Running updates, no tags, description or careful formatting.

German hunting trousse, part IV

I gave up on using the cutoff wheel and instead finished reshaping the tang with what remained of the grinder's flap disk.  So far, so good.

I finished planning the hilt with a tracing of the new tang shape.  As you can see here, the new shape leaves the original pin holes badly off-center, so a new set was required.  Luckily, I've just finished setting up a mini drill press in the basement which ought to work for this purpose...

...  but didn't, or at least not well enough.  To be frank, after how fast the flap disk reduced the edges, I expected the drill to punch through with ease like I've often done with a drill press on mild steel.  The 3/16-inch bit made the nagel hole with difficulty, but the 1/8-inch bit refused to go more than partway through.  After that, it spun and heated the tang but refused to go any deeper.  Even annealing the tang didn't help.  Now the drill bit's tip is blue and looks blunted.  I may not be able to finish this step until I pick up a replacement.

German hunting trousse, part III

Finding a useable non-custom blade for the cleaver is pretty hard without going custom.  The most common blade is a bit like a bolo machete, but shorter and much thicker.  There were many variations, of course, but from what I can find, only rarely and rather later do we see blades that look more like modern kitchen meat cleavers.  Large "chopper" knives used for heavy woodwork somewhat resemble the classic Waidpraxe, but tend to be pricier than I want for this project.

Luckily, in my searches I stumbled across two examples that could serve as models.  One is archived at Hermann Historica and the other at Bonham's; both are identified as Saxon (in the sense of originating from Saxony), mid-17th century, and have unusually narrow blades with parallel edges.  The Bonham's example has a dropped point.

As it happens, Crazy Crow sells a large blade with a similar profile.  It's far from perfect; it's faintly bowed, lacks a fuller, and as a cleaver, it could stand to be a millimeter or two thicker.  Also, the company offers no guarantees on the steel or heat-treatment of the Indian-made lineups in this price bracket (which include the belduque I'm using in this project as a by-knife).  But its simple geometry and profile make it a unique design, and probably the best I'm going to get without going custom.  The fact that the rifleman blade has a similar cross section and the same finish as the belduque is fortuitous.

The first step in modifying it is to give its grip the classic Waidpraxe profile.  To begin with, I marked it up as you can see above.

I first attacked the tang with the scroll saw, but it wanted nothing to do with this and I was afraid all I'd accomplish would be wearing out the saw blade.  Instead, I've turned to the angle grinder, which is less suited for fine work like this but much more powerful.  Its flap disk ate away the corners of the butt end in seconds.

This kind of heavy work is what results in the blade "burning" or losing its heat treatment, which you can see near the third rivet hole where the steel is turning brown.  Clearly, I will have to proceed slowly and (if possible) use two clamps as heat sinks.

With any luck, next update in a week or two.

Design for a frame-hilt Bowie knife

Okay, this was not meant to be an actual publicly-available post, but since I have need of an URL for this drawing elsewhere, I'm uploading it here.

Wheel hat

 

This is actually the first hat that I made using the PDF pattern I downloaded from Etsy two years ago, although it's only in the last few weeks that I've reworked it to the point that I find it good enough.  Since it's cloth, I needed help from Mom to assemble the top and sides.

The facing fabric is from an old pair of chinos.  I used a narrow belt from a thrift store for the chin cord and 4-5 ounce (2mm) veg-tan for the visor.  The visor is treated only with neatsfoot oil, conditioner and a little Sno-Seal (emulsified beeswax), which all contribute to darkening the leather to a natural saddle tan color.  With no dye, the color shouldn't rub off or bleed, and with no acrylic finish, it won't crack if creased.  It's also reasonably water-resistant, though less so than a heavy acrylic finish would be, and of course a glossy finish isn't achievable.  If I'd been thinking ahead, I might have made it without vents and used a more old-fashioned slide system for the chin cord, which would make the hat appropriate for the 19th century.  As is, I believe the roller buckle is more of a 20th-century feature.

The band is built around heavyweight, 2mm cotton webbing, 1-1/2 inches (38mm) wide.  I sewed the crown to the band five warp threads down, though I think it could've been three or even two, which would add a bit of height to the band without weakening the construction.  Of course, with a fisherman-style cap like this, you don't really want a tall band; that's more a military peaked cap feature.  Speaking of which, the crown could also stand to be about a quarter-inch narrower all around when working with a forgiving fabric, though this doesn't seem to work with leather unless you make the band taller.

After sewing in the visor, I hot-glued a sweatband of cotton twill tape with the idea that it would be replaceable (since the cap itself can't be washed and its light color will show stains from contact with greasy skin), but it took up too much room on the inside.  Also, the twill tape had a hard face and was uncomfortable, and proved very difficult to remove.  I managed to peel it out and slice off most of the remaining hot glue, and have now replaced it with a chamois leather sweatband in just the front half (where most grease tends to accumulate), attached with rubber cement.  It's still a little too snug - I definitely underestimated the hat size during construction - but much more comfortable.  The crown has lightweight interfacing and is lined with part of a worn-out cotton bedsheet.

I tweaked the visor pattern several times.  I found the supplied version (right) too flat and a bit too proportionally long.  At first I thought that widening it would be the best way to get it to curl down more, but in the last few weeks I realized that the major factor is how curved it is on the interior edge:  the less curved, the more the visor is turned down when stitched to the straight edge of the band.  Theoretically, a completely straight interior edge would result in a visor that points straight down.  There actually appear to have been wheel hats made in the 19th century like that, although I don't see the point of such a thing.  This cap uses the pattern second to the left, which is perhaps slightly too narrow and not quite full enough on the outer edge near the corners to optimally shield one's eyes from the Sun.