Grayson Parker

Spartan Blades Metis Review

Few companies have the pedigree that Spartan Blades does. I rarely hear them pop up in conversation among gear geeks, but that hasn’t stopped them from accumulating a small hoard of Blade Show awards. Between the aforementioned awards and the extensive Special Forces resumes of the two founders, I’m surprised they don’t get more chatter. Maybe they do, just not among folks I know.

As Dan covered in his review of the Horkos, Spartan’s reputation is firmly grounded in its fixed blades and (though I hate the overuse of the term) “tactical” folders. This reputation was so entrenched that when I was offered a Metis in trade, I had to triple check the dimensions. There was no way Spartan made a sub-3” blade…right? Curiosity piqued, I went ahead with the trade. How would an everyday carry knife designed by former Special Forces handle mundane tasks? The short answer: better than I expected, given recent trends among overbuilt folders.

General Dimensions and Blade Details

The Spartan Blades Metis is close to my ideal size for a pocket folder. It features a 2.7” blade housed in a 4” handle, and the entire package (sans clip) weighs in at 2.79 ounces. Those numbers look pretty good, especially when you consider the all metal construction. A knife this size is well suited to a range of everyday tasks, from opening packages to light food preparation. It’s also legal to carry in a wide range of jurisdictions, as it falls under the common 3” blade limit.

If there is one aspect of the Metis that grabs my attention, it’s the blade shape. Most folks would probably call it a drop point, but the dip along the spine gives it something akin to a harpoon’s profile. Whatever the nomenclature, it’s fantastic. There’s enough belly for slicing cuts, but not so much that the edge slides out of the cutting medium during push cuts. The harpoon-ish profile – in addition to reinforcing the tip of the blade – leaves a dip in the rounded spine that’s a perfect resting place for a thumb.

For enthusiasts, Crucible’s S35VN is no longer news. In fact it pretty much serves as a benchmark against which we compare other steels. It has a proven track record as a “do-everything” steel: it chips less and is easier to sharpen than its predecessor S30V, with comparable or better edge retention and rust resistance. I didn’t strenuously test the steel in this case, but I was mostly using it as a gentleman’s folder, and it hasn’t needed any maintenance in the few months that I’ve had it.

When I did use the Metis, it outperformed my expectations. No, it didn’t pass the apple test, but it did well enough that my insensate pinky never started twitching nervously. It behaved similarly while breaking down cardboard boxes: not the best, but good enough to flex into the role. The old saying “jack of all trades, master of none” is appropriate here.

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

There’s not much that can be said about the handle of the Metis. Like so many of its competitors, it’s another slab-handled, titanium-on-titanium knife. So what makes the Metis stand out in a crowd? That’s difficult to answer. The show side of the Metis is beautifully simple; between the milled backspacer and the singular visible screw, it seems almost hewn from titanium. The lock side couldn’t be more different. Every screw that was hidden on the show side is plainly visible, and the milling for the lock bar in conjunction with the overtravel stop give it an aesthetic not far off from a circuit board. With that in mind, it’s arguable that Janus is as fitting a namesake as Metis.

Ergonomically, the Metis ranges from unoffensive to pleasant, depending on the task. It never stood out as being great, but neither did it stand out as being horrible – which surprised me given the odd placement of hard angles. If the knife is resting in your fingers, chances are you’re not gripping it so tightly that the angles will have an impact on the ergonomics. By contrast, if you’re gripping it so tightly that the angles would matter, you’re probably holding it farther back in your palm where the angles won’t cause any hot spots. At least, that was my experience. The generous chamfering and subtle curve of the handle are certainly factors here.

The best I can say about the pocket clip on the Metis is that I understand some of the design impulses behind it. It’s attractive and fits the overall aesthetic. The screws for the pocket clip are hidden (meaning they screw in from the interior), which is a nice touch, though it makes removal inconvenient. In slacks, dress pants, or particularly thin jeans, this pocket clip works fine. Beyond that, the news isn’t as nice. The clip doesn’t have much spring to it, so to compensate it doesn’t make contact with the handle scale. Ultimately, this restricts the number of ways to comfortably carry the Metis.

Problems with the clip aside, the Metis is a pretty quiet pocket companion. Most of the time I carried it in the leather slip I use for traditional knives, and while it was a bit of a tight fit, the slip ensured that the Metis didn’t slide out of my pocket or roll to the bottom and cause discomfort. I’d have preferred to carry this with a clip, but it wasn’t onerous to forego it. My CRK Mnandi has a great pocket clip, but I still carry it in a pocket slip more often than not.

Deployment and Lock-Up

The blade of the Metis is deployed solely by the flipper tab. As the entirety of the blade is housed within the handle, there is no pinch point which would facilitate two-handed opening. Though slightly disappointing – it’s always a feature I like to have on a “dress” knife – I can’t fairly complain, as a wider blade wouldn’t carry as well. This flipper is meant to be pulled (like a light switch) rather than pushed. Deployment is thoughtless, reliable, and doesn’t generate discomfort, even if you’re using the Metis as a fidget toy.

The ease of deployment is in part thanks to the caged bearings the blade rides on. I’m of two minds regarding the use of bearings in folding knives: on one hand, they allow for silky smooth pivots, but on the other they’re far more susceptible to grime and grit than traditional washers. (Addendum: I’ve been informed that I may be wrong on this account. More information is welcome in the comments.) On a knife like the Metis caged bearings are fine. A knife this size is clearly in the “EDC/gentlemen’s” category, and not intended for hard use.

At this point, there’s not much that can be said about a well-executed framelock, and the lock on the Metis certainly qualifies as such. The lock face consistently engages 50% of the blade tang, disengaging the lock is easy, and there’s only a fraction of a hair of wiggle in the lock, which vanishes in use. A steel lock insert could fix that, but the only titanium framelock I’ve ever handled that doesn’t have that slight amount of play is the Mnandi, and that knife certainly isn’t being flipped open like the Metis.

Spartan Blades Metis – Final Thoughts

Currently, it’s difficult to find a Metis in stock anywhere. My understanding is that this design hasn’t been discontinued, Spartan just hasn’t released any batches recently. Hopefully when Spartan comes back to it, they do so with an eye towards improvement, because there are a few changes that I’d like to see. The bones of a truly great knife are here, and it wouldn’t take much to flesh it out.

First, the pocket clip needs to be redesigned. A nondescript spring clip with outside accessible screws would be far more functional. Second, eliminate the overtravel stop by incorporating a steel lock face into the frame lock. This would eliminate the scant play there is and clean up the lock side of the knife. Those two changes would improve the function and form of the Metis, and (designing and retooling costs aside) I can’t imagine it costing more to produce than the current design. By moving away from a sculpted clip, it may actually cost less.

When they were available, the Metis sold for $340. That’s quite a bit of money – especially for a pocketknife – and the competition is stiff. The obvious comparison is the Small Sebenza. I can’t make a direct comparison (I’ve never owned a Sebenza) but I do own an Mnandi. The best way I can describe it is that if the Metis is practically flawless, the Mnandi is flawless. Of course, no Chris Reeve knife has a flipper, so Spartan is ahead of the game in that department.

Is the Metis still worth buying in the meantime? If you can find one, and if the design speaks to you, I’d say yes. It’s well made, attractive in its own right, and can flex into a number of different roles. If my complaints dissuade you, I’d recommend keeping an eye on Spartan Blades in the meantime.

Spartan Blades Metis Folding Flipper Knife Titanium SF4SWXX

List Price: $340.00

Current Price: $340.00

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I recommend purchasing the Spartan Blades Metis at BladeHQ, KnifeArt, and Amazon. Please consider that purchasing anything through any of the links on this website helps support BladeReviews.com, and keeps the site going. As always, any and all support is greatly appreciated. Thank you very much.

Seiko SRP779 / SRP777 Review

by Grayson Parker 6 Comments

Seiko divers are iconic. Practically every review of a Seiko diver paints a picture of a high value tool watch, and the Seiko SRP779 is no different. The SRP77X line is not a new addition to the catalog, but a reissue of the beloved Seiko 6309 (or “Turtle”). For years, buying a vintage Turtle was a way to pick up a fantastic watch on the cheap, but over the years supplies dwindled and costs rose. When the reissue was announced, it was met with mingled praise and shock, both of which were positively reinforced once the new Turtles trickled out into the market.

I’d like to do something a bit different this time and take a moment for a PSA. Most knife and gear folks I know are familiar with the concept of buying secondhand gear. Often this gear is gently used – if at all – and buying this way is easier on the wallet. This is mostly true for watches, but not in all cases. In the secondary watch market, potential buyers aren’t just looking at secondhand sales, but something known as the grey market. Grey market watches are legitimate products, in that they aren’t stolen or counterfeit, but are sold through back channels not intended by the manufacturer. Sometimes an authorized dealer needs to move a bit of product without selling it themselves; in which case, they’ll sell to a grey market dealer. Maybe someone has a source for watches sold in international markets, where exchange rates can play havoc with the price controls watch manufacturers put in place.

Whatever the source of a grey market watch, you should know that there are hidden costs associated with them. Most commonly, they won’t be covered under the manufacturer’s warranty, and that includes servicing, repairs, diagnostics, the lot. For some watches, those service costs can hit three and even four figures. Moral of the story: be an informed consumer, regardless of how you purchase a watch. I only mention all of this because I’m not entirely sure that my watch isn’t grey market, and it was a pain to figure out what that meant after the fact. With that out of the way, on to the review.

Fit

The Seiko Turtle is not a svelte watch. That shouldn’t come as a surprise: it weighs 4.28 oz, with a 44.3x48mm, 14mm tall case. The bezel does tend to catch on shirt cuffs – especially on dressier shirts – and that same height means that the wearer is more likely to scuff up the watch on doors, corners, handrails, etc. Don’t mistake my meaning: it’s not actively bothersome, just a little fussy from time to time. The horizontal dimensions of the watch have never given me any trouble. Is it a wide watch? Yes, but the lug to lug distance is actually pretty tame at 48mm (for reference, that’s a hair less than the Bertucci A-2T).

Shirt cuffs aside, this watch is incredibly comfortable. Prior to the arrival of the SRP779, I didn’t quite understand why this particular style was referred to as a “cushion case diver.” After wearing it on a near daily basis for several months, the mystery was solved. This is quite simply the most comfortable watch I’ve ever worn. Sure, it has an unfortunate tendency to pick fights with sleeves, but the same curves that start those brawls are the ones that make the Turtle superb on the wrist.

Movement

The movement Seiko uses for the Turtle reissue is the 4R36, an in-house movement that offers a few upgrades to the venerable 7s26 movement offered on the SKX line, notably the option to hand-wind the watch and a “hacking” seconds hand (that just means the seconds hand stops when you pull the crown out). Both features are desirable if you’re the sort of person with a few different watches, as they allow the watch to be part of a rotation with far less hassle. The 41 hour power reserve is no slouch in this regard either.

Of course, this was also my first experience with a mechanical (or rather, automatic) watch. To state the obvious: no, it’s not as accurate as a quartz movement. I haven’t bothered to sit down and parse out the seconds lost/gained in a day, but it does need to be reset once a month or so. Estimates online hover at +/- 15 seconds per day, but if serviced that number can be brought down. The hacking seconds hand makes adjusting the time far less onerous than it would be otherwise. Still, a mechanical movement requires more upkeep and is less accurate, so is it worth it? In my opinion: yes, but not for any reason that could be considered objective. The sweeping seconds hand is beautiful, but not a mark of performance, and while it’ll never require a new battery, getting it serviced every few years is recommended (which is undoubtedly more expensive than a new battery).

Despite the quirks, I like the mechanical nature of the SRP779. There’s just something cool about a device powered solely by the motion of the human body, of gears whirring, springs winding, and weights swinging that a battery powered watch can’t capture. You might think I’m full of it, and that’s completely fair. My only rebuttal is that much like stropping a knife, inking a fountain pen, or really any gear maintenance, there’s a meditative quality to the upkeep that makes it not just palatable, but enjoyable.

Case/Crown

The stainless steel case is simple but distinctive. Cushion case divers are certainly in the tool watch category, and the SRP779 is no exception. The top of the case has a brushed finish in a circular pattern, while the underside was given a polish on par with a mirror. This two-tone finishing provides a touch of understated class to an otherwise function driven case (though it makes photography a bit frustrating). All of this is held together by a screw down caseback.

As a recent convert from the world of quartz, I didn’t realize the emphasis watch collectors place on the crown of a mechanical watch. After reflection, it makes sense: you’ll be interacting with a mechanical more frequently, so accessibility, traction, and (dare I say it) action are part and parcel of the tactile experience. The crown of the Turtle is – as best as I understand it – quite good. It’s located at just above 4 o’clock on the case, which keeps it from poking your wrist at odd angles. The machining is even and crisp. Winding the movement and setting the time are pleasant enough, all things considered, but I’m not qualified enough to say more than that.

Dial, Crystal, and Bezel

In many respects, the dial is the most striking feature of the Turtle. The black face of the dial is marked at five minute increments with raised pips, each of which is coated with Seiko’s Lumibrite paint. Dashes indicating minute marks are found on the chapter ring, which is at a 45 degree angle to the dial. There is a day/date function at 3 o’clock with a beveled window, and sword hands complete the package. The hands are polished along the edges with Lumibrite interiors. As much as I gripe about the height of the watch above, it’s the height that accommodates all of these features, so take my complaints with a grain of salt.

Two issues regarding the dial: first, most reviews note that the chapter ring is misaligned. I’m either dense, blind, or lucky, as I haven’t noticed that on my model. Second: unlike the original Turtle, the Lumibrite pip on the seconds hand is located not at the tip, but at the rear of the hand on the opposite side of the stem. It’s not so much a flaw as an oddity. Taken as a whole, however, the topography of the dial is gorgeous, especially for someone who thus far has only experienced painted numerals on flat surfaces.

Seiko uses their proprietary crystal, Hardlex, on the SRP779. The Turtle reissue is priced right around the point that sapphire crystal becomes feasible, but as Seiko uses Hardlex on four figure plus watches, I don’t know how much I can criticize them for using it here. Despite innumerable scrapes and dings, the crystal hasn’t picked up any visible scratches. It doesn’t have the shimmer that sapphire crystal does, but in the right light the Hardlex is practically invisible, which has a charm all of its own. The depth I mentioned above is absolutely entrancing when the crystal vanishes.

There are a number of color configurations available for the Turtle reissue, and the best known is likely the black & gold variant. It’s very handsome, and it does dress the watch up, but it’s not the configuration I chose. I’ve been on a couple dives, and hope to go on more, so I chose the blue and red variant. If those options are too colorful for you, there’s always the black and silver version. After several months of wear, there are a few points where the anodizing isn’t -quite- perfect, but you’d practically need a jeweller’s loupe to notice them. It’s not something that catches the eye with a casual glance to check the time.

The unidirectional dive bezel has actually proved quite useful. I use it to time samples at work, to set rest periods while exercising, to measure how long my commute takes, and countless other minor tasks. Rotating the bezel requires enough effort that accidental engagements are rare, but not so much effort that wet or sweaty hands couldn’t set it. The machining on the lip of the bezel (I’d hate to call something this polished “knurling”) adds visual interest and improves traction. Incidentally, the bezel is unidirectional so that if you are on a dive and accidentally shift the timer, you will only ever lose time. The last thing you want is to brush your watch against some equipment and end up thinking you’ve got fifteen minutes your oxygen tank can’t corroborate.

Strap

Up to this point, many of the pictures for this review have not featured the strap the watch came with, and you may be wondering if that’s a reflection on the quality of the strap. It isn’t. The rubber strap on my SRP779 is incredibly comfortable and doesn’t look or feel cheap. Yes, it’s rubber, but in the same way that a Nikon is made of plastic. I regularly switch between the stock strap and a NATO style nylon strap. When these photos were taken the weather was a little cooler, so I didn’t have to worry about sweat leeching into the strap. Now that my region is regularly hitting triple digits, the Turtle is rubber-clad once more. Readers should note that swapping the strap is made easier by drilled lugs.

Seiko SRP779 Review – Final Thoughts

Sometimes a purchase can represent a watershed moment in your understanding of quality. I’m sure most of us remember buying our first Spyderco or Benchmade after carrying nothing but swap meet specials. It was game changer, right? I’m not trying to imply that my prior watches were on the same tier as swap meet specials; rather, that the gulf in quality between those watches and the Turtle reissue is similarly vast. Due to my inexperience in the world of watches, I can’t make an informed comparison to other watches in this price bracket, but what I can say is that the Seiko Turtle has completely reset my expectations of quality. Hopefully that’s recommendation enough.

New Seiko SRP777 Prospex Automatic Black Rubber Strap Diver's Men's Watch

Current Price: Too low to display

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If you are thinking of buying a Seiko SRP779 (or the 777), please consider purchasing it at Amazon. By purchasing things through any of the links on this website you support BladeReviews.com, keep the website free of annoying banner ads, and help produce future reviews. Thank you very much.

Kizer Alter Ego Review

by Grayson Parker 1 Comment

Kizer’s 2017 catalog wasn’t released to the same fanfare as Spyderco’s or KAI’s. That may be partially due to the fact that it’s massive. Most of their old designs are still on there, so don’t worry, there’s no need for panic purchases a la Spyderco’s discontinued list. At the same time, Kizer has collaborated with a host of new makers so up and coming your plaid-bedecked neighbor who won’t shut up about vinyl records hasn’t even heard of them.

In the interests of full disclosure, you should know that this review sample was provided by Kizer. While that won’t have an impact on my impartiality, there is the risk that the product I was sent was double or triple checked for quality, and that my sample is the best of the brood. That risk is counterweighted by Kizer’s deserved reputation for high manufacturing tolerances. In other words, I don’t think you need to worry about it.

The Alter Ego falls into their “Bladesmith” line, which is seemingly reserved for collaborations with custom makers. I was surprised to learn this, as the Alter Ego seems aesthetically similar to many of Kizer’s in-house designs. Searching for “Kim Ning” and “Kim Ning Knives” yielded no results outside of Kizer products. It may be that he is better known internationally, or that he doesn’t have an English website, but I suspect that (much like Jim McNair of KAI) he’s a full time designer for Kizer.

General Dimensions and Blade Details

The Kizer Alter Ego has a 3.55” blade housed in a 4.625” handle. Overall, it’s 8.125” long and weighs 4.91 oz, with a blade thickness of .1375”. For some this isn’t terribly large, but it’s definitely more knife than I’m accustomed to. To their credit Kizer kept the weight pretty low. As a point of comparison, it weighs only .6 ounces more than the Zero Tolerance 0900, but has a .85” longer blade. Those numbers might not look impressive on paper, but trust me when I say that the difference is significant in person.

The blade itself is made of S35VN, a powder metallurgy steel developed by Crucible as the successor to S30V. Prior to the revolution of high-end Chinese manufacturers, a steel like this would have been unheard of on a Chinese knife. Times have changed, and now it’s sound business sense for companies like Kizer to import high performance steels. S35VN is a particular favorite of mine. It retains S30V’s wear and rust resistance, but doesn’t chip as frequently. I’ve used the Alter Ego frequently (if not rigorously) over the past month, and the experience matched my expectations.

As nice as the S35VN is, I wish it had been paired with a plainer utilitarian blade. The Alter Ego sports a drop point blade with a profile that echoes the Viper Dan 2 or the ZT0770 (both blade shapes that I love), but which is drawn up into a recurve closer to the base of the blade. While by no means a dramatic recurve, it exaggerates the belly enough to make certain tasks – press cutting in food preparation, for example – less predictable than a continuous curve or a straight edge. If I found myself cutting rope on a regular basis the recurve would have more appeal, but my needs are fairly pedestrian.

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

Much like the blade, the handle is comprised of organic, muscular lines. In some respects it’s comparable to the Hinderer design aesthetic, but where Hinderer relies on hard angles and a very industrial appearance, Kizer turns to curves that are almost anatomical. In keeping with this, ornamentation is kept to a minimum. I’m not normally a fan of decorative pivots, but Kizer’s rendition is eye-catching, subtle, and most importantly is torx compatible.

The ergonomics on the Alter Ego are good, if narrow in application. It’s difficult to tell from the photos and product literature, but the handle coerces your fingers into something akin to a pistol grip. That’s not necessarily a downside, especially if you’re in the market for a tactical folder. This knife won’t leave your hand unless you want it to. However, it’s less than ideal for everyday tasks, such as preparing a picnic lunch or opening a clamshell package.

While the design is ergonomically sound, if not to my taste, there is one flaw in the execution: the pocket clip. It’s not offensively bad (like this little guy), but it does generate enough of a hot spot to cause some discomfort. Gloves and careful finger placement mitigate this problem. The clip aside, Kizer put a lot of work into making this knife comfortable. All the edges are buffed and all the corners are softened. Kizer clearly knows how to make a knife comfortable,

The Alter Ego is pretty quiet in the pocket. No one could call it svelte – it is fairly wide, and nearly an inch of the handle sticks out past the edge of the pocket – but for a knife this size, it’s better than I expected. The aforementioned contouring keeps it from feeling like a brick in your pants, and though the clip detracts from the blade’s ergonomics, it also ensures that an errant seat belt can’t make off with your rather expensive pocketknife.

Deployment and Lock-Up

As with most of Kizer knives, the Alter Ego’s blade is deployed via flipper tab. Sadly, Kizer committed something of a cardinal sin in the design stages of the Alter Ego: they put aggressive jimping right under the flipper tab. For the first two or three days I carried it, my index finger would slam right into the aforementioned jimping every time I flipped it open, leaving my finger raw and smarting. Eventually my technique improved and the problem went away, but it was a literal pain to deal with. It’s a shame that such a flaw wasn’t caught earlier, because otherwise deployment on the Alter Ego is perfect. The detent is crisp and firm, and there’s not a hint of grit in the bearing pivot. It’s not as snappy as the action on my ZT0900 – there’s more of a hydraulic feel to it – but that’s a matter of taste, not quality. Deployment on both knives is as smooth as glass.

Commensurate with Kizer’s reputation, the frame lock on the Alter Ego is perfectly executed. There is zero wiggle in the lock while deployed, and because of the steel insert there’s no break in period or risk of the lock face galling inappropriately over time. Since arrival, the lock has consistently engaged the blade tang at about 50%, though it should be noted that 100% of the steel insert engages the tang. Said insert also functions as an overtravel stop. To round things out, Kizer also milled a slight cut out in the handle to make the lock more accessible.

Kizer Alter Ego Final Thoughts

At a price point that hovers between 160USD and 180USD, the Alter Ego is competing with the premier lines of most brands; within the genre – titanium framelock flippers – it’s directly competing with most of Zero Tolerance’s catalog. While I’m not going to wade into the waters of which brand I prefer (the gaming industry has console wars covered), I can say that the Alter Ego is as well made as any normal run ZT. That’s pretty high praise, all things considered.

End of the day, this knife isn’t for me. It’s too big for my purposes and definitely has a different end user in mind. That said, everything else about the knife – the manufacturing tolerances, materials, attention to detail – is fantastic, and clues me into just how much I’ve been missing out on by not trying a Kizer sooner. If the design of this knife appeals to you, I’d wholeheartedly recommend it. If the quality of the Alter Ego is representative of their entire catalog (and the community’s response indicates that such is true) then I wouldn’t hesitate to buy any Kizer knife if the design appealed to me.

I recommend purchasing the Kizer Alter Ego at BladeHQ. Please consider that purchasing anything through any of the links on this website helps support BladeReviews.com, and keeps the site going. As always, any and all support is greatly appreciated. Thank you very much.

CRKT Compact Batum Review

by Grayson Parker Leave a Comment

By the time this review is published SHOT Show 2017 will be old news. But as I write this introduction, the releases from SHOT are still fresh in my mind. After perusing everyone’s catalogs, I’ve noticed something; something that I’ve been waiting to see for some time. You see, it appears that the knife industry has finally realized that not everyone wants to (or is capable of) buying knives that cost upwards of $200 at a sustainable rate. Well…part of the industry at least.

There was a bevy of budget and mid-priced blades released at SHOT, and one of the more impressive showings was put forward by CRKT. Apart from undercutting the Snailor market, they also expanded their collaborations with Jesper Voxnaes, who designed a few knives for them last year. The 2016 models didn’t seem to grab the attention of the knife community. I’d venture that the reason why is that they lacked Vox’s typical design language: bold lines, dramatic edge profiles, and a quintessentially Nordic minimalism.

Happily for us, it looks like CRKT realized the amount of money they were sitting on and tapped Mr. Voxnaes for some of that Danish magic. While most of these collaborations are enticing for one reason or another, I eventually ordered the Compact Batum. After more than a month of on and off carry, I think I’ve got enough experience to offer my opinion.

General Dimensions and Blade Details

The Batum has a blade length of 2.45”, a closed length of 3.71”, and weighs 3.6 ounces. The Batum is made in China. These are some pretty middle of the road performance specs, but it’s a big step up from the relatively chunky specifications on the Squid. By comparison, the Batum has a longer blade and a more comfortable handle for nearly the same weight. Fit and finish is likewise improved: centering is perfect, primary grind is symmetrical, and everything is nice and polished. The only “real” complaint I can register is that the secondary bevel gets a bit wobbly near the tip. Not bad for a sub-$30 blade.

I’m working on a standardized cutting test, but until then, you’ll have to rely on my ad hoc testing. That means two (incredibly unscientific) tests: one for edge retention and one for slicing performance. I don’t test rust resistance or chipping: not because they’re unimportant, but because those faults – if present – are typically revealed without any help. To measure slicing performance, I used the Batum on a diverse array of fruit, including apples, pears, and oranges. It quartered the pears just fine and peeled the oranges with ease. The Batum split – not sliced – the apples, but to be fair they were large and crisp. Ideal for eating, not cutting.

During normal use, the 8Cr13MoV held up fine. It’s the budget steel of choice for Chinese made knives, and I wasn’t surprised to see it featured on the Batum. I strop it twice a week or so and that’s kept it serviceable. The only opportunity I had to “rigorously” test the edge retention was using the Batum to break down a pile of cardboard boxes destined for the bin, during which it exhibited odd behavior. After a few boxes, it wouldn’t cut as cleanly, but when I checked the edge against my thumb it was still passably sharp. The Batum just kept slipping out during protracted cuts. It’s likely a combination of the dramatic belly and budget steel. As soon as the edge starts to degrade, the blade will start to slide more in cuts. This in turn means you’ll glance onto that steep belly and slip right out of the material.

That’s not to say I dislike the blade shape. While the belly is too dramatic for my tastes, it does occasionally come in handy. On a cutting board, it allows for great slicing cuts, much like the front end of the Spyderco Zulu. A buddy of mine who’s an electrician also swears by the Vox blade shape, as he loves the straight edge for cable work.

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

I was on the fence about reviewing the Batum; originally, it was a toss up between it and the Pilar. Both looked interesting, but in the end the G10 scale of the Batum was the more attractive proposition, as the G10 substantially decreases the weight and improves the grip. Still, I had concerns. On cheaper knives finishing is often the first thing to go, and if the G10 was as raspy as, say, Cold Steel’s, I’d be put out to say the least. Luckily that wasn’t the case. Out of the box I was impressed by the fit and finish on the Batum. The G10 was perfectly textured: not rough enough to feel like sandpaper, but just enough to register a grip. Both the steel and the G10 scales are generously chamfered. Even the backspacer – one of my complaints from the CRKT Squid review – is perfect. Not only is the machining improved, but the dark grey doesn’t have the “off-white next to regular white” look that the Squid’s backspacer had.

The ergonomics on the Batum are tough to evaluate. When it first arrived, I noticed within seconds that the forward finger choil was too small for my hands. I couldn’t choke up on the blade without feeling like the knife was about to bite me. So – as shipped – the ergonomics were poor to say the least. Fortunately I have a set of diamond stones for my Spyderco Sharpmaker, and after a day or two of intermittent filing, the choil was big enough to accommodate a four finger grip. It was relatively easy fix, but buyer beware.

In the pocket, the Batum is an excellent companion. It carries quietly, and even though it doesn’t have a deep carry clip, it doesn’t leave enough of the butt end hanging out to alarm the masses. The clip seems like it could be a real paint scraper. I haven’t run into that issue personally, but that may just be luck.

Deployment and Lock-Up

For deployment, the Batum features Vox’s signature thumb…eye…thing. Folks online seem to love it; a deranged few like it more than the Spydie-hole. It’s arguable that it offers the ease of deployment that a thumbhole does without the larger footprint in the pocket, but I find the thumbhole easier to use most of the time. Mastering deployment on the Batum took all of a day on my end, so it’s probably not a major issue for most users. The teflon washers give deployment a slightly hydraulic feel. My only complaint is that the bit of the handle that covers the tang also blocks the path my thumb follows when I’m flicking the knife open. It’s less of an issue now, but you may need to spend some time getting acquainted with the Batum’s deployment.

I’m really tempted to just copy and paste the lock-up section from the Squid review. Nothing is really different here: lock up is stable at 50%, there’s no blade play in any direction, and there’s no lock stick. Disengagement is simple despite the lack of a cut out to access the lock. There is one improvement – if a negligible one – over the frame lock on the Squid, and that is the addition of an overtravel stop. Is it necessary? Probably not, but some will appreciate it, and there’s no real downside to its inclusion.

CRKT Compact Batum – Final Thoughts

For the money, it’s difficult to find a more compelling knife. There’s the perennial Alox Cadet, of course, but that’s hitting a slightly different need. You can find the Batum for around $30 after shipping, and I think it’s a steal at that price. It’s better finished than the Cryos that I’ve handled, the design is (in my opinion) much more attractive, and you don’t have to deal with an assisted opening. The ergonomics – once adjusted – are better than most knives in this price range. It may be a bit chunky behind the edge, but no worse than the Squid.

Knowing all that, who should buy the Batum? Well, fans of Jesper Voxnaes should probably line up. This knife has most of the design cues Vox is famous for: burlesque drop point, simple lines, and an open profile that’s strangely animated. While not perfect – the drop point is a tad overdone, and the choil may need tweaking – it’s one of the strongest budget knives to hit the market in quite some time.

I recommend purchasing the CRKT Batum Compact at BladeHQ and Amazon. Please consider that purchasing anything through any of the links on this website helps support BladeReviews.com, and keeps the site going. As always, any and all support is greatly appreciated. Thank you very much.

Timex Weekender Chrono Oversized Review

by Grayson Parker 11 Comments

For as long as I can remember, Timex has been the company for budget watches. Their brand is as synonymous with affordable as the Casio G-Shock line is with durable. So when I needed a new watch (as my Bertucci A-2T was out for repair), I knew betting odds would land me with a Weekender of some sort. Granted, I tried to track down a nicer watch in the local pawn shops, but it appears that no one in Bakersfield has good taste – or that those who do aren’t in a hurry to offload their watches. It could be either one.

After the aforementioned fruitless search, I decided on the Timex Weekender Chrono Oversized. (Note: there is no ‘Regular’ Weekender Chrono, so I don’t understand the ‘Oversized’ moniker.) It was attractive without being fussy, fit my wrist well, and was distinct enough from the Bertucci A-2T that I felt it would complement my collection, not end up as needless clutter. When I purchased it, the price was around 50USD, and it’s seemed to hover there ever since. The warranty service on my A-2T took longer than expected, so I wore the Weekender exclusively for two months and then some. Here are the impressions I gathered.

Case and Movement

The case on the Weekender Chrono Oversized is 40mm wide, 9mm tall, and has a lug width of 20mm. It weighs just over 2 ounces. On the whole, I’ve been nothing but impressed with the case. The high polish and simple design grant it an elegance that many watches – even significantly more expensive ones – can’t claim to possess. I do have to admit that until recently I thought that the case was made of stainless steel; as it turns out, it’s made of brass. Does this have a practical effect on the Weekender’s performance? Not in my experience. In fact, as trendy as brass and copper are in the gear community at large, I’m surprised I don’t see more unpolished Weekenders floating around on Instagram.

Information on the movement that the Weekender uses is in short supply. The internet informs me that the movement is known as the W92, which is the same movement Timex uses on their other chronographs. This is a quartz movement manufactured in the Philippines, and it’s probable that the case has the same origins. I have no complaints regarding the movement. While not as interesting as an automatic or a mechanical, quartz movements are reliable, accurate, and cheap. The battery will need replacement every few years, though I would expect that estimate to diminish if you frequently use the “Indiglo” feature.

Dial and Bezel

Of course, the reason that I settled on this particular Timex was the dial. I’ve never owned a chronograph, and something about the numerous dials was strangely appealing. It’s cluttered – even busy – but not any less legible for it. The arabic numerals at 2, 6, and 10 are occluded by the chronograph complications, and a date function is set next to the 4 o’clock position. 24 hour numerals are also included on the outermost ring of the dial, though they’re so small that it isn’t information you can gather at a glance. All of this is protected by a mineral crystal. From a material standpoint, it’s not as nice as Seiko’s Hardlex or a sapphire crystal, but for the price point I can’t register any complaints. Mine hasn’t picked up any scratches, even while working or when I was trying to corral a particularly bite-prone husky pup.

In the interests of full disclosure, I feel you should know that I’ve never actually used the chronograph feature. That’s not to say I haven’t futzed around with it: I have. You just won’t get any ‘Apollo 13’-esque stories out of me. The Weekender Chrono can measure time in minutes (up to 30, using the dial at 10 o’clock), seconds (using the large seconds hand), and 0.05 of a second (using the dial at 2 o’clock). I made an effort to discover the practical applications of a chronograph for the sake of this review. That effort failed. For those who are interested in sports – specifically track and field – I can see the value in an integrated stopwatch. In my line of work it’s simply unnecessary.

For those steely-eyed readers who have been paying attention: yes, the large second hand is used only for the chronograph, while the small seconds dial located at the 6 o’clock position is used for normal timekeeping. Using all the small dials together would make some kind of sense. We couldn’t possibly have that.

Strap and on the Wrist

My Weekender came with a leather NATO strap. The buckle and keepers are made of stainless steel, and the leather is certainly genuine; though that isn’t exactly high quality. Odds are that I’ll need to replace the strap before the battery. It’s worth noting that the photos on their website don’t quite convey the color of the leather. Online, the strap looks light enough to resemble flesh tones, but in reality it has warmer overtones. On the wrist (especially after a few days of sun and sweat) the leather darkened enough that I was no longer concerned. If you like the watch but not the strap, it’s not the end of the world. Not only are there a bevy of aftermarket options, but Timex offers a wide range of replacements. I’d recommend the former.

I don’t keep up with the watch world, so most of my impressions originate in listening to Andrew Lang (aka 555 Gear) on Gear Geeks Live. Somewhere along the line, I became convinced that 40mm was huge for a watch. After owning and regularly wearing two 40mm watches (and now one nearing 45mm), I’m not so sure. The Weekender Chrono Oversized is not just a wide watch, but a fairly tall watch; yet I’ve never had a problem. It slips under shirt sleeves with ease and doesn’t feel like a hubcap on my wrist.

Timex Weekender Chronograph – Final Thoughts

No product exists in a vacuum, of course. Competition for this slice of the market is surprisingly fierce. The most noteworthy contenders are – in my view, at least – the Seiko 5 and the Casio G-Shock. All three offer a fantastic value proposition, and I think this is honestly a case where the only determining factor is personal preference. If you need something on the bombproof end of things, go with the G-Shock; an introduction to automatic watches, the Seiko 5; but if you want an inexpensive but fashionable watch, go with the Timex. I’m glad I chose the Weekender. It fit my needs, and I reach for it more frequently than I expected.

Who should buy the Weekender? Well, that’s a bit of a tricky question. I recently purchased my first automatic: a Seiko SRP779. I don’t want to gush – I’m still in the honeymoon period, and I know that – but so many of the entrancing details on the SRP779 simply aren’t found on the Weekender. That isn’t a criticism; the SRP779 costs several times what the Weekender does. But I can’t say whether someone who is accustomed to higher end watches will find value in the Weekender. It is a truly great entry level watch, and I can’t detract from that. If you’re looking for your first watch or if you’re on a budget, I heartily recommend the Weekender Chrono Oversized.

Timex Unisex TW2P62300 Weekender Chrono Oversize Tan Leather Slip-Thru Strap Watch

List Price: $49.83

Current Price: $47.71

Price Disclaimer

I recommend purchasing the Timex Weekender at Amazon. Please consider that purchasing anything through any of the links on this website helps support BladeReviews.com, and keeps the site going. As always, any and all support is greatly appreciated. Thank you very much.

CRKT Squid Review

by Grayson Parker 11 Comments

I’ve listened to Gear Geeks Live practically since its inception. My commute is around 4 hours round trip, so that’s a lot of time spent in cars trying not to look at my smartphone, and podcasts help with that. One particular episode is always easy to recall, and that’s the episode where Thomas W. (of KAI USA) drops in for an interview/argument. While most of that episode was spent arguing over whether the Cryo 1.0 is a good knife, one of the tidbits teased was that Kershaw was going to dive into the sub-$20 waters with a new product line.

It sucked.

One could argue that this line was doomed to failure because of its dedicated use of 4Cr14, that they looked like the gas station knives Nick Shabazz has so much fun with, or because they all weighed more than a brick shithouse with a full septic tank, but I think the real reason they flopped was different. That reason, you ask? Simple. There’s already an apex predator in these waters, and that’s CRKT.

Before anyone cries Gerber, they don’t count. I’d sooner go near a blender in a Gremlins remake. No, the real top dog in the world of truly budget blades is Columbia River Knife and Tool. They’ve had their problems, sure, but on the whole their budget knives have been quietly successful among enthusiasts and big box shoppers alike. The CRKT M16 is the gateway drug for many a poor knife nut’s wallet.

Enter the CRKT Squid. Designed by Lucas Burnley, the Squid is based off the custom offering of the same name. Burnley is better known for the now ubiquitous Boker Kwaiken, but the Squid has a surprising following. Not only is there enough interest to warrant several special editions, but there’s enough demand that a small market for custom scales has popped up. How could a $15 knife be compelling enough to warrant this attention?

General Dimensions and Blade Details

This knife is portly. It’s an all steel 3.5 oz sandwich, and there is no getting around that. The 2.25” blade is housed in a 3.5” long handle. I won’t sit here and try to convince you that the weight is a practical issue: it isn’t. The balance isn’t great, but other than that, the Squid’s weight won’t come up in use. I’m still not a fan. There’s an argument to be made that more weight is a selling point for big box consumers, as they equate weight and quality. I won’t denigrate people who feel that way, but I know better than them and they’re wrong I respectfully disagree.

Overall the Squid is well made, especially considering the price point. Centering is good, the grinds are even and clean, and there aren’t any stray machining marks. The one complaint I can register is the aluminum backspacer. First of all – and I know this is subjective – it’s ugly. The off-silver/greyish color doesn’t look right alongside the stonewashed steel scales. Just anodize it. Black, green, blue, whatever. It’d fit the ‘cute’ aesthetic the Squid already has. Second, the backspacer is ground unevenly. It’s not a practical concern, but I’ve whined about lesser sins.

This knife cost me just north of $15.00. It has 8Cr13MoV. What else did you expect? It’s a budget steel, but a fine one, all things considered. I haven’t experienced any rust, and the microchipping I did run into vanished after a few passes on the Sharpmaker. Regular stropping is recommended. It’s listed as a hollow grind, and the stock isn’t very thick; only .11”. Unfortunately it’s not a particularly thin hollow grind, nor is it very high, which makes it somewhat thick behind the edge. For cardboard, paper, or packages, you’d never notice an issue. I did during food prep, but how often will you use a 2” knife in the kitchen? I’m guessing somewhere between ‘never’ and ‘when it’s the only knife that can cut.’ Is it a big deal? No, but it caught me off guard.

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

Normally, I open up this section with a bit on the visual appeal of the handle. I try to answer questions like: is it attractive?, was it difficult to produce?, etc. For whatever reason, I can’t do that with the Squid. I’m not saying that the Squid is unattractive, but I think I’d be blowing smoke up the readerships’ collective asses if I tried to praise it effusively. The stonewash is nice, I suppose; but nothing that gets me out of my seat.

The ergonomics are okay. I haven’t noticed any hotspots, but the stainless steel handles are pretty slick. It’s a slim knife and doesn’t fill the palm very well. The custom versions appear to have thicker, contoured handles which would alleviate the aforementioned problems. Without a lanyard, the Squid is definitely a three finger knife, but on a knife this small you can’t exactly expect more.

Given its weight, I was surprised to find that the Squid was a pretty quiet companion. For the most part I carried it at work, which means thick pants and a good, sturdy belt to support those extra 3.5 oz. The clip allows for discreet carry, and everything about the Squid that makes the grip questionable makes it carry like a dream.

Deployment and Lock-up

Deployment on the Squid is a fairly simple affair. The thumb studs are well placed and not pokey enough to snag on pockets or split your finger. Sure, the detent is a bit weak for my taste, but you can slow roll or coin flip the Squid open, and that’s what counts. Teflon washers give the action a bit of a hydraulic feel. Not so nice that I develop carpal tunnel from flicking it, but on par with much more expensive offerings.

Regarding the lock, there really isn’t much to say. It’s a stainless steel framelock. I haven’t experienced any lock rock or blade play, and due to the absence of titanium there’s certainly no lock stick. However, I’ve experienced all three of those issues on framelocks that cost ten times what the Squid does, so maybe this is more of a feat than I’m giving CRKT credit for.

CRKT Squid Final Thoughts

Ultimately, I don’t think I’ve bought into the Squid’s popularity. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why it’s as popular as it is. The Squid hits most of the ‘hype’ buttons the Cryo did at a lower price point, has (in my experience) better F&F, and in my opinion features a more attractive design. That said, it’s quite heavy for its size, the ergonomics are wanting, and it’s called a squid when that is clearly the body of a cuttlefish.

Furthermore, reviewing this knife has given me some perspective on the cottage industry surrounding the Squid. Most of my quibbles could be solved by a replacement scale: the weight would be cut by a third, the slick handle could be replaced by a more tactile material, and while I’m at it I could get that backspacer replaced. Will I order one? It isn’t likely, but hand me enough bottles of porter and you never know what might happen.

How does the Squid stack up to the competition? Well, that’s tough to answer. I’ll stand by my claim that CRKT is the boss hog of budget blades, but once you get up into the middle tier value knives it’s a different situation. As much as I put down Kershaw’s sub-$20 products, anything they produce around the $50 mark is pure gold. If you can save up it’s probably worth your time to do so.

Still, it can’t be overstated that $15 is a far cry from $50. For the money it’s tough to beat out the Squid. The design is friendly enough that your co-workers won’t be wigged out, useful enough that you’ll always be glad to have it on you, and cheap enough that you won’t regret buying it if you do purchase more expensive knives down the line. If that sounds appealing, give the Squid a shot. I’m glad I did.

Columbia River Knife and Tool (CRKT) Squid Folding Pocket Knife

List Price: $18.37

Current Price: $9.17

Price Disclaimer

I recommend purchasing the CRKT Squid at Amazon. Please consider that purchasing anything through any of the links on this website helps support BladeReviews.com, and keeps the site going. As always, any and all support is greatly appreciated. Thank you very much.

Main navigation

Grayson Parker

General Dimensions and Blade Details

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

Deployment and Lock-Up

Spartan Blades Metis – Final Thoughts

Fit

Movement

Case/Crown

Dial, Crystal, and Bezel

Strap

Seiko SRP779 Review – Final Thoughts

General Dimensions and Blade Details

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

Deployment and Lock-Up

Kizer Alter Ego Final Thoughts

General Dimensions and Blade Details

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

Deployment and Lock-Up

CRKT Compact Batum – Final Thoughts

Case and Movement

Dial and Bezel

Strap and on the Wrist

Timex Weekender Chronograph – Final Thoughts

General Dimensions and Blade Details

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

Deployment and Lock-up

CRKT Squid Final Thoughts