Aron Ralston is the perfect poster boy for the “everyday carry” knife—or as I call it, the EDC. He’s the guy who got his arm stuck under a boulder outside of Canyonlands National Park in 2003, and then self-rescued by cutting the limb off. When the stone rolled on Ralston, he was carrying a crappy, free, dull pocketknife. Still, it was good enough to cut off his arm, just below the elbow, so he lived to tell the tale. If you have good rappelling, downclimbing, and navigation skills, a taste for the ghoulish, and a good knife just in case, you can hike to Bluejohn Canyon and see the Lourdes of the EDC. Lazy, ghoulish hikers can even book a helicopter tour, skipping the approach to Amputation Rock. But it probably costs an arm and a leg.
Better to visit a knife store instead. You never know when you might need a pocket blade to hack your way out of a tight spot. Your EDC should be as much at home in your pocket as it is in your backpack. What is life, if not an extended hike through challenging terrain? Your knife will help with all of that, whether you’re navigating daily life or the Long Trail.
Folding knives have been in use since the Iron Age, with the oldest specimen dating from 500 to 600 BCE. But pockets were invented just 500 years ago, so I guess that ancestral blade was technically a hang-off-your-belt knife. During the Industrial Revolution, Barlow knives came on the scene in Sheffield, England, costing a penny a piece. Barlows eventually found their way into the pockets of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Mark Twain, as we know from the Adventures of Tom Sawyer: “Mary gave him a bran-new ‘Barlow’ knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations.”
For decades, I have been convulsing with delight over various foppish and citified pocket knives. My current one is a translucent blue Victorinox Classic SD, with tweezers, nail file, clippers, and a toothpick—perfect for any grooming emergency. One of its predecessors,“the Original Swiss Officer’s and Sports Knife,” was patented in 1897 by Karl Elsener, who named his company after his supportive mom, Victoria. Just add “inox,” or stainless steel, and you have a global pocket phenomenon.
I came by my everyday carry habit early in life, as my dad dragged me up and down New Hampshire’s 4,000-footers. It gave 7-year-old-me a reason to request, and receive, a pocketknife for my birthday. Mostly, I used it to spread peanut butter on Wonderbread. But the notion of a pocket blade appealed, like carrying a bit of wildness with me in suburbia. Plus, it later impressed a small string of girlfriends who desperately needed a nail file.
Forty years passed, but my love for pocket knives continued, even as I replaced a couple dozen Swiss Army knives at a clip of about two per month. It was such a habit that I didn’t think twice in 2009, when I slipped my EDC into my pocket at the Hay-Adams Hotel, in Washington, and walked over to the White House. Clearly I was thinking more about my upcoming interview with Barack Obama than I was about carrying a murder weapon into the most heavily guarded house on the planet. At the security desk in the East Portico (now rubble), I emptied my pockets into a tray, walked through the metal detector, and was met on the other side by a surly guard with my knife in his hand.
Five minutes later I was confronted by Obama’s press officer, who asked me: “What kind of guy carries a knife into the White House?” Me, evidently. A couple of hours later, post-interview, I picked my EDC up at the security desk and dodged indictment under United States Code Title 18, Section 871: Threats Against President.
Trail snacks don’t cut themselves. That’s where a pocketknife comes in handy. (Photo: VSFP via Getty Images)
If you’re already carrying a knife, you don’t need me to explain why. It’s like justifying the opposable thumb. Those of you with empty pockets and skeptical attitudes should consider this: On and off the trail, you are only as good as your preparation, and preparation is all about having the right skills, and the right tools to accomplish them. Your favorite website—this one!—prepares you to cut all sorts of things, in an article entitled “How to Survive Anything in the Woods with Only a Knife.” It details hot-bladed ways to start a fire, split firewood, and make a bow capable of shooting small animals. Even if you do none of those things, carrying a pocketknife reminds you that you could, in a pinch, which makes you a better human being. Meanwhile, that gnarly ribbon around your birthday present doesn’t stand a chance against your 3-inch blade.
Your EDC choices look like this. (Do NOT carry any of them into the White House.):
The one-hander. A push-button release and a locking blade allow you to access your cutting tool if your other hand is between a rock and a hard place. That also happens to be the name of Aron Ralston’s autobiography.
The switchblade. A more lethal one-hander. The blade pops out and retreats with a flick. Switchblades are illegal in eight states, which of course makes them more fun. Whether you’re a Jet or a Shark, this knife is ready to rumble.
The multitool. More like a pocket workshop, with pliers, a portable saw, a screwdriver, and maybe even a ferro rod or a corkscrew, depending on the model. I even found one that offered a flash drive.
The classic. For years I carried the Victorinox “Executive.” It’s now discontinued, despite the useful orange peeler, nail file, and spring-loaded scissors. It got me out of many a pickle, including literally fishing pickles out of a jar with a blade point. I once owned a Swiss Army knife with a tiny flashlight and a pop-out pen—useful to handle thugs who were wielding documents I had to sign in dim light.
With any luck, most of your knifework will be less Ralston, and more recreational. After all, cheese doesn’t cut itself. I recently attended my son’s wedding in Scotland. The highlands were erupting in daffodils, and it just so happened that there were some blank spots around the wedding site that needed gussying up. I headed boldly into the field, unsheathed my Victorinox Classic SD, and I nipped a selection of flowers at the base before heroically plunging them into vases and decorating the venue. Multiply that simple act by a thousand other quotidian moments when I needed a blade, or a scissors, or a nail file, and you have a lifetime relationship that will last until death do us part.
So choose your EDC well. They always help, even if you’re just caught between a rock and an unopened bottle of wine.
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