There isn’t a whole lot of much that happens in Barrytown, just a few accomodations and larger towns on either side, but a particular couple puts out pamphlets at all the hostels on the South Island for their knife making workshops. So, it was something that must be done. We found accommodation at the wonderful Beach Hostel nearby, and rose for an early day of sweet, sweet labor.
We arrived at Barrytown Knife Making early in the morning, and drove down a quarter mile of gravel paddock road to a small car park nee driveway, and walked up to a small house and a blacksmith’s workshop that had somehow grown off of it like an organic extension of the porch. The house is neatly tucked into a small grove of trees, and there were chickens and cockatoos, an energetic terrier, and a Frenchman throwing axes and shuriken (ninja stars) to greet us. We were checked in by Robin, the smith’s lovely assistant, and I was outfitted with a work shirt and safety gear while Kara and Lizzy familiarized themselves with the art of throwing sharp things at wooden targets.
In all, the group for the day included a French chef, four American mushroom picking enthusiasts, an American naval chaplain and his family visiting from Japan, and me. A German kid would show up to slow down the day a few hours later. Steven, the smith, was not impressed.
Enough of the lead in, though—let’s talk knives.
The first step in the process of our knife making was to pound bars of carbon steel into the rough size and shape we wanted for our knife blades. This part of the process was, frankly, the most fun because it featured all the things we traditionally think of when we imagine the blacksmith trade: fire, anvils, and a big hammer. We heated our steel in the forge fire to an orange color, careful not to overheat the steel beyond that and destroy the integrity of the metal. At our anvils, we hammered the heated bars into the rough width, depth, and length we desired for the finished product. Steven advised us to keep them within a certain range for maximum results, despite beginning with almost a foot-and-a-half of steel. I chose to hammer out a drop point blade about five inches long with a fairly wide spine. It is the most generally useful blade shape I know, and seemed simple enough to make.
Pounding out metal bars has a few tricks to it, though. When hammering out a blade, the metal actually bends backward because the edge is stretching out as the spine remains more or less the same. It takes a constant reshaping of the tip to achieve a decent drop point. Also, the metal needs to be reheated several times to maintain the correct softness for shaping, but this means that the effect of the hammer also changes constantly and adjusting for it without experience is problematic. Steven helped me with my shaping near the end, and my metal required a bit more heating than normal for it. However, quenching the metal in water and setting the blade shape was a rewarding experience.
Really, all of that was an excuse for Steven to correct some of our more egregious errors, and when we returned, the knives were ready for the grinding to begin. Oh yes, so much grinding.
The last two tasks for completing the knives are to polish them by hand, a laborious process that is apparently an ongoing part of maintaining the metal over time, and then sharping the edge with a final short grind. Steven did the sharpening for us himself since he was able to do it with only a couple quick turns of his wrist, and we likely to get a very poor angle ourselves. He used it as a good time to talk to us, review our work, and impart some final jibes.
We left the forge behind with my new knife, and we arrived in time to catch an awesome sunset and some epic waves by our hostel. All in all, I had a pretty good day. Thanks, Kara.