Respect the Danger

Gerber Sheridan Tanto in Dead Tree

Several years ago, I found myself enjoying an adventurous hike through one of the many winding trails located throughout Northern Michigan. I say an adventurous hike, not because I was being chased by panthers or on a quest to construct my own make-shift raft for a dramatic river crossing, but because that's what being outdoors does, it provides the lonely traveler with the sense of adventure.  After all, adventures are often born from the calm chaos of nature and the feelings of inadequacy that accompany a person who is, for all intents and purposes, cut off from the world for a period of time.

I was accompanied by my new favorite "toy", as I called it then, my first full tang fixed blade knife, the Gerber Sheridan Tanto (Discontinued in 2006, Sorry). It had a 4.76 inch high carbon stainless steel blade with partial serrations, a slick black coating and a textured handle that all combined to make me feel like I could fell the largest oak tree around with nothing but my knife and a baton! Those of you who love knives like I do know exactly what I mean. The emotions I felt when I held that knife provided me with what amounted to a "crash course" in the confidence that comes from possessing an object that had seemingly limitless power. I remember the same feeling as a Boy Scout when I first shot a BB Gun, then a Rifle and again as I shot my first handgun.

This is a feeling which is common to most everyone. For me it was a new knife, for others it's a fast car, new computer, compound bow or the rush of entering a packed stadium for the big game! The feeling is unmistakable, and if left unchecked can cause you to change your attitude until life gives you a "time out" to teach you the next important lesson... and at that moment, alone and miles deep in the wilderness, I was going to learn that next important lesson; with power, comes responsibility.

As will often happen when you hike for any length of time, I soon became bored and began to look for opportunities to keep myself occupied. It wasn't long until my thoughts turned back to the knife and as I reached for the blade I could feel the breeze pick up slightly and the leaves russel in the wind as if to say "I know what you're thinking...you better not" Of course, as most boys would, I quickly dismissed any thought of danger and proceded to imagine what a fine knife thrower I would make.

I pulled out my new toy from it's tactical sheath (attached to my leg, of course) and began to satisfy my urge to make an already dangerous knife even more dangerous. As I walked the winding trails, I eyed various dead trees and stumps and made them my victims. I hurled my knife through the air in true Hollywood fashion in an attempt to make it stick within my imagined target. WHOOSH THUMP! The sound of the blade piercing the wood was mesmerizing and only added to my feelings of empowerment. WHOOSH THUMP! WHOOSH THUMP! Nearly perfect each time...I was unstoppable, and then... WHOOSH PING!

Now, WHOOSH PING is a unique noise and it is known by many other names to many other people. For some, it is the noise an enter key makes when they hit the "send" button on a hate filled email. For others, it's the sound that a pencil makes as they struggle to fill in test answers because they blew off studying to pursue other interests. For all, it is the sound heard when a plan is put into motion and then unravels before your face leaving you with no other option, then to live with the consequences.

For me, it was the sound of a misplaced throw at an innocent oak tree, which had reversed the direction of my knife and sent it hurling out of controll back in my direction. I jumped back and threw my legs wide open, but without success; the sharpened blade pierced my pants and I felt it strike my leg just beside my femoral artery.

For a moment following the impact, I could do nothing more than stare at the blade, which now appreared to be hanging limp from my leg. As I stood in shock over what had just happened, I had enough thoughts go through my head to fill a novel, the most notable of which was "WHY?" Why had I ignored common sense? Why hadn't I listened to myself and put the knife back in its sheath?

After what seemed like hours, I finally gained enough courage to inspect myself for damage. To my amazement, I had only suffered the equivalent of a scratch, having been left by the blade as it made contact with my skin before completing its rotation and coming to a stop with the blade spine (dull) rubbing against my inner-thigh. My pants and skibbies now had a sizable hole in them, but only a small bandage was needed to cover my wounds. Now that's what I call luck and while I'm not the brightest bulb in the room, I'm smart enough to know that luck can run out, so it doesn't make a great travel companion!

I walked away from this experience with a new point of view. I can still remember placing the blade back in its sheath with a quiet respect for its power and an even greater respect for the responsibility that I had to ensure that it was used properly. You see, as much as I wanted to curse that knife and throw it into the lake for almost killing me, I came to the dramatic realization that it wasn't the knife that had injured me...it was me. I had overlooked the most important aspect of handeling anything that has potential to harm, I forgot to respect the danger.

I went on to use that knife for many years. With it, I've created shelter, fire and food, all of which helped to enhance my personal capabilities and make my outdoor experiences more enjoyable. When used properly, I learned to harness its power to accomplish great things. With a little practice, I even got to the point where it was pure joy each time I used it.