Grayson Parker

Grayson is an avid knife and gear enthusiast. He began writing for BladeReviews in 2015, and has elevated reviewing knives to an art form. He can be found on Instagram and Twitter.

Spyderco Rhino Review

by Grayson Parker 1 Comment

Expectations are a terrible thing to shake. As gear geeks, hopping onto the hype train is all too easy, especially because most of us are passionate about our hobbies. We see something cool – either the newest catalog or the latest teaser on Instagram – and start forming our own idea of what the end product will be like. All too often, those expectations proceed to get in the way of enjoying the product for it is.

Buy the Spyderco Rhino at BladeHQ
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Enter the Spyderco Rhino. When it was first teased (long enough ago that I can’t remember the date), it was slated to be a refreshing new entry to Spyderco’s line-up, sporting G10 scales, BD1 steel, and a compression lock in a reasonably sized package. What’s more, its original street price was going to fall right around $50.00. That was a hell of a steal at the time, and honestly would still be a great buy today, even with the recent price drops in premium steels.

Unfortunately, that version of the Rhino never made it beyond the trade show demonstration booth. Apparently that package was too much of an ask for the factory, and the project was put on hiatus. The next time we caught a glimpse of the Rhino, it was a radically different product: the steel was upgraded to CTS-XHP, the handle scales were upgraded to carbon fiber, and the street price was upgraded all the way up to $140.00.

That’s the point I lost interest in the Rhino. It had morphed from a product that would challenge the market to yet another overpriced and oddly designed Spyderco, destined to hang out in the inventories of cutlery purveyors across the world.

In the months that followed its debut, I started to see it pop up online. Folks that I follow on Instagram (whose taste I respect) started including the Rhino in their daily updates. After seeing it a few more times, my curiosity was once again piqued. That’s when I started to realize that on paper, it was still a good product: high-end steel, carbon fiber*, a great lock, and the perfect size for everyday chores. It didn’t take too much speculation along those lines before I picked one up. I’m glad I did, but you’ll need to read on to learn why.

General Dimensions and Blade Details

The Spyderco Rhino is considered part of the “little-big-knife” family, a design ethos that seeks to pack the maximum amount of cutting power into a compact package. Other standouts include the much-acclaimed Techno as well as the Dragonfly 2. Like its cousins, the dimensions of the Rhino aren’t great on paper. Its 2.37” blade is housed in a 3.57” handle, and the overall package weighs in at 2.27 oz. Taken together, neither the blade to handle or blade to weight ratio is very compelling. Much like its cousins, however, these numbers don’t speak to the whole truth.

My tastes are depressingly pedestrian when it comes to blade shapes. Give me a nice drop point or modified wharncliffe and I’ll be happy; give me more than one angle to worry about when resharpening and I won’t. The Rhino’s trailing point walks a very thin line between being interesting and being a hassle, and – in my case at least – the jury is still out. When grappling with a clamshell package, it’s great: the refined tip and thin grind make short work of that modern headache. When it comes to spreading peanut butter or condiments (essential picnic tasks, in my view), the trailing point is uniquely unqualified. If that isn’t a concern for you, there are few downsides to this blade shape. The exaggerated belly also means that the cutting edge is longer than the listed blade length.

As expected, the grind that the fine folks at Taichung put on the Rhino is impeccable. The stock starts at .118” thick and is brought down to a very keen edge by a full flat grind. Between the stock and grind, the Rhino makes for a very mean cutter, passing the apple test with ease. If there’s a complaint to be made, it’s that the satin finish is slightly tacky and seems to attract gunk. Regular cleaning and a bit of extra vigilance is probably required.

This is actually my first experience with Carpenter’s CTS-XHP steel. If rumors hold true, it was designed to have the upsides of D2 (great edge retention and toughness) while mitigating D2’s chief drawback (poor rust resistance). My experiences with the Rhino generally reflect that: the edge rarely needs touching up, and it’s warded off rust handily, ever after I inadvertently stored it with fruit juice on the blade. Unfortunately, most users report that it can be a pain to sharpen, so I’ve been proactive with my strop, and actual resharpening hasn’t been necessary.

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

Unfortunately, the handle breaks two of my cardinal rules when it comes to knives: avoid finger scallops and Spyderco’s carbon fiber/G10 composite scales. The former rule is rooted in ergonomics; the latter in priggish snobbery. My experience with the Rhino has made me reevaluate both – to an extent. The composite scales are reinforced by a skeletonized and recessed steel liner, and have endured everyday wear and tear without showing it. Moreover, they don’t have the glossy, too-light quality I’ve felt in other knives with carbon fiber scales.

The composite scales are well-suited to the role. There is enough texture that your fingers don’t slide around, but not the rough kind of texture you’d expect from Spyderco’s normal G10 treatment. Additionally, the edges and corners of the scales have been chamfered to the point that they are very nearly contoured. I’m very glad they went the extra mile in the finishing process; otherwise the Rhino would be an ergonomic flop, and that’s entirely due to the finger scallops. Apart from those problematic little curves, the Rhino is really quite good in the hand. The dip in the spine of the blade is a perfect place to put your thumb when you need more control, and the organic curve of the handle means that the Rhino can be gripped in a number of ways.

To be frank: finger scallops should be avoided as a rule. They force the user to hold the knife in a set grip, despite the fact that all of our muscular and skeletal structure varies wildly person to person. They do not actually improve our grip on a knife’s handle, according to hand surgeon and knifemaker Kyle Ver Steeg; in fact, by forcing our fingers farther apart, it weakens our grip instead. Finally, why on earth were finger scallops “necessary” on a knife this size? The Rhino isn’t going to be someone’s last ditch boot knife, or stowed in a bugout bag. It’s going to be toted around in some gear geek’s chinos, broken out to to open packages and trim loose threads. The Rhino’s saving grace is that the finger scallops have been chamfered to the point that I hardly notice them.

The Rhino is equipped with Spyderco’s classic spoon-shaped clip. It’s a classic design for a reason: it doesn’t cause ergonomic issues, it keeps the knife in the pocket without shredding your pants, and it’s only a little bit of a paint scraper.

Deployment and Lock-Up

At this point, there’s not a whole lot that can be said about Spyderco’s trademark thumb hole. Even as flippers reign supreme, the thumb hole stands out: it’s simple, versatile, and only there when you need it. The Rhino has at least as much fidget factor as any of my flippers, in part due to the phosphor bronze washers the blade rides on and the excellent detente. Absolutely no complaints in this regard.

In keeping with the “quintessentially Spyderco” theme, the Rhino utilizes the compression lock, an in-house design that’s strong, simple, and lightweight. By using a locking leaf that wedges between the blade tang and the stop pin, the compression lock blends the convenience and strength of an axis-style lock with the snappy action and simplicity of a liner lock. Unfortunately, compression locks do tend to have a bit of vertical blade play, and the Rhino is no exception. It doesn’t register visually or audibly, but you can feel it if you wiggle the blade around.

Spyderco Rhino Review – Final Thoughts

Ultimately, the Rhino is a fine addition to both Spyderco’s catalog and my collection. Part of me still wishes that the original version would have made it to market, but to be honest, the extra finishing on the handle scales probably wouldn’t be feasible at a sub-$50 price point, and the finger scallops would go from a theoretical pet peeve to a very literal pain to deal with. That aside, there’s a lot to recommend here. The blade uses some of the best steel on the market and is ground to be a lean cutter; the handle is remarkably comfortable, in and out of the pocket; and the deployment method and lock are some of the most reliable and convenient available.

As mentioned above, the street price for the Rhino falls around $140. That’s nothing to sneeze at; most of the major production knife companies have strong entries at this price point, from Benchmade’s upgraded Griptilian line to a veritable dragon’s hoard of Kizer offerings. While the competition is fierce, I think the Rhino holds its own. The blade – from the steel to the grind – makes the Rhino stand out in its own way, especially if you like the funky design aesthetic.

There are some people who should pay special attention to the Rhino, and a few who should actively avoid it. The Rhino is especially well-suited to modern office workers: opening packages, breaking down cardboard boxes, and maybe peeling an orange at lunch. If you have more specific needs (like frequent food prep or a knife suited to harder use), look elsewhere, as the Rhino was clearly not designed with those tasks in mind.

Spyderco Reinhold Rhino Folding Knife - Black Carbon Fiber Handle with PlainEdge, Full-Flat Grind, CTS XHP Steel Blade and Compression Lock - C210CFP

plainedge blade - this knife has a sharpened blade with no serrations or teeth sometimes referred to as a smooth blade.
carbon fiber handle - graphic fibers (the size of a human hair) woven together then fused with epoxy resin. lightweight with a high level of tensile strength it is three dimensional in appearance.
full-flat grind - this knife features a blade ground with flat bevels that extend from the spine all the way to the cutting edge. this grind reduces drag during cutting and decreases overall weight.
compression lock - developed and patented by spyderco, the compression lock mechanism uses a leaf-like spring from a split liner in the handle to wedge laterally between a ramp on the blade tang and the stop pin (or anvil pin).
specifications - closed length (inches): 3.6, overall length (inches): 5.95, blade length (inches):2.35, blade steel: cts xhp, grind: full-flat

Editor: I recommend purchasing the Spyderco Rhino at BladeHQ or Amazon. Thank you for reading.

Kizer Vanguard Mini Sheepdog Review

by Grayson Parker 2 Comments

Howdy knife nuts. It’s been awhile. Long story short, I’m working two jobs right now, so I haven’t really had time to focus on gear. Hopefully this review is a sign of more to come.

Buy the Kizer Mini Sheepdog at BladeHQ

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I’ll be the first person to admit that I don’t “get” cleaver-style pocket knives. When they started to appear in catalogs and Instagram feeds, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d be a pain to carry and an easy way to spook people. From the oversized blades to the chunky grinds, there just didn’t seem to be a case for them. So when Dan asked if I’d be interested in reviewing the Kizer Mini Sheepdog, I was a bit reluctant, but ended up saying yes, in part to challenge my own prejudices. Fortunately, I ended up being pleasantly surprised. Read on to learn more.

Full disclosure: this knife was provided cost-free by Kizer. While the company’s reputation for quality is high enough that I feel comfortable claiming that my sample is representative of the line at large, some of you might feel differently.

General Dimensions and Blade Details

The Kizer Mini Sheepdog weighs 3.15 ounces, has a 2.63” blade, and measures 3.6” long while closed. It’s neither a featherweight nor a brick. The blade is short enough to be legal to carry in most US cities, and I’ve yet to encounter someone put off by it, despite the distinctive blade shape. On the whole, the quality of construction is excellent, and I was pretty impressed when it slid out of the box.

Depending on your point of view, the Mini Sheepdog’s blade is either the draw, or the drawback. If you like cleaver-style blades, then this should be right up your alley. The lines are bold, the modified wharncliffe reinforces the tip quite well, and the shallow belly of the blade makes it a fine utility cutter.

The blade steel is VG10, a Japanese steel whose reputation has suffered quite a bit over the years. When I first got into this hobby, VG10 was lauded for its rust resistance, ability to take a keen edge, and easy maintenance. Those haven’t changed. Nowadays, however, you are more likely to hear about how quickly VG10 loses an edge, and part of that is because of the rapid pace of technology. Amazing steels are available at hitherto unheard-of prices. Still, if you regularly touch up the edge on a strop, you won’t be disappointed. Just don’t try to break down a pile of cardboard boxes: the edge will disappear long before you’re done.

Despite the slightly outdated blade steel, the Mini Sheepdog is still a lean cutter. The combination of a tall blade, .125” stock, and keen flat grind make for a very effective slicer, especially during food prep. Don’t mistake my meaning: this isn’t a replacement for a Swiss Army Knife, let alone a kitchen knife. However, if you need a utility knife that can also slice an apple on your lunch break, this is a fine option.

Handle, Ergonomics, and Pocket Clip

Like most of the Vanguard line, the Mini Sheepdog’s handle is comprised of G10 scales over stainless steel liners. Both materials are excellent choices for working tools, provided that the manufacturer puts the time and effort into properly finishing them. G10 is lightweight, durable, and isn’t damaged by moisture, but if it isn’t sanded down or contoured it can be rough and uncomfortable in the hand. Stainless steel, depending on the treatment, isn’t necessarily rustproof.

Fortunately, Kizer knocked it out of the park here. The G10 scales are smooth enough that they won’t wear out your pockets (or hands, for that matter), yet have enough texture to remain grippy in adverse conditions. Likewise, the stainless steel liners are polished enough to ward off most incidental rust (though, full disclosure, I live in what is technically a desert).

The ergonomics on the Mini Sheepdog are perfectly serviceable. There’s little to complain about, but not much to write home about, either. I can get three and a half fingers onto the handle of the Mini Sheepdog, but most of the time it’s a three-finger knife. The hump-backed handle coaxes your fingers into a slight pistol grip, which might be annoying if that wasn’t how I used most of my work knives already.

As I mentioned in the introduction, one of my concerns regarding cleaver-style blades was that they’d be a pain to carry. Luckily those fears weren’t justified. Yes, the Mini Sheepdog is a bit wide, but it’s not so wide that you can’t reach past it to grab the keys at the bottom of your pocket (which is the real test, in my experience). The pocket clip is perfectly functional. It doesn’t damage pants, it’s not difficult to remove or stow, and it doesn’t generate hotspots. In a world filled with terrible pocket clips, “perfectly functional” is high praise.

Deployment and Lock-Up

The blade of the Mini Sheepdog is deployed with the quintessential modern flipper tab, and rides on a ball-bearing pivot. This combination is fairly common these days, and the Mini Sheepdog is a fine example of the breed. It has a crisp detent, a smooth pivot, and an intuitive flipper tab, making deployment reliable and effortless.

Liner locks tend to get a bad rap these days. Ever since framelocks started to dominate the market, liner locks have seemingly been relegated to the realm of budget knives, and that doesn’t seem quite fair. More often than not, a liner lock is actually more effective. They don’t change the geometry of the handle when the blade is deployed, they’re just as strong, and they’re much easier to replace in the event of catastrophic failure, so I’m more than happy to see a liner lock on the Mini Sheepdog. As the locking liner is made of steel, there’s no break-in period or galling issues. More importantly, there is neither horizontal nor vertical play in the lock, and lock-up is stable at around 50%.

Kizer Vanguard Mini Sheepdog Review – Final Thoughts

I didn’t expect to like the Mini Sheepdog at first, but it’s since won me over. The cleaver-style blade was neither off-putting to strangers nor did it make the knife a pain to carry. It’s a fine cutter, perfectly sized for everyday needs, and falls at a great price point, especially considering the materials and quality of construction.

Honestly, I’ve been out of the loop for too long to comment on what slice of the market the Mini Sheepdog is competing with. If I might borrow from fellow BladeReviews writer Ben Schwartz, the Mini Sheepdog, much like the Begleiter, “sails perilous close” to waters dominated by the sub-$100 Spyderco offerings, but these are old and well-established stalwarts. In my opinion, the Mini Sheepdog has enough charm to stand on its own, and its materials and quality of construction are at least as compelling.

If you like cleaver-style blades, but don’t need to perform ad hoc butchery, the Mini Sheepdog is right for you. It’s inexpensive enough to test the waters, innocuous enough to fly under the radar, and handy enough to keep around alongside much more expensive knives.

Kizer C01C (Mini) Pocket Knife, 2.6" 154CM Cleaver Sheepsfoot Blade Folding Knife with Black G10 Handle, Camping Knives with Flipper Opener, Liner Lock EDC Knives for Outdoor, V3488C1

Sharp 154CM Blade: The Kizer Sheepdog pocket knife boasts a 154CM steel blade that has been expertly refined and heat-treated to deliver outstanding sharpness, hardness, edge retention, toughness, and corrosion resistance for reliable everyday use; Additionally, the sheepsfoot blade shape enhances versatility and utility
G10 Handle: The black G10 handle of edc camping folding knife offers a combination of durability and lightweight properties; It is known for being waterproof and corrosion-resistant, making it well-suited for use in harsh environments; Additionally, it provides an excellent grip, enhancing safety and ensuring secure handling of the knife
Liner Lock & Flipper Opener: Kizer hunting pocket folding knife features a reliable liner lock mechanism that ensures the blade opens securely and prevents accidental closure; Its flipper design facilitates one-handed operation and is suitable for beginners; The knife strikes a perfect balance between safety and functionality, making it especially suitable for outdoor sports enthusiasts
Suitable for EDC Use: The Kizer edc pocket knife is highly versatile, suitable for daily tasks and more; Its razor-sharp blade slices effortlessly through meat, food, and packaging, and even handles delicate tasks like cutting pancakes or removing crumbs. Additionally, its convenient clip makes it easy to carry
Swift After-sale Service: Kizer survival knives and tools provide swift service against defects in material and workmanship; Kizer service center provides fast response to take care of your requests

Editor: I recommend buying the Kizer Vanguard Mini Sheepdog at BladeHQ or Amazon. Thank you for reading.

Tactile Turn Shaker V2 Review

by Grayson Parker 1 Comment

Well, Josh beat me to the punch with his review of the TWSBI Eco (which is great, by the way: I have an Eco as well and love it). I’ll admit to being a tad disappointed that mine wasn’t the first pen review to go up, but that’s what you get for falling behind. On the upside, I don’t have to explain what a pen review is doing on a site (supposedly) about knives, so thanks, Josh. Load off my mind.

Buy the Tactile Turn Shaker V2 at BladeHQ

As much as I love fountain pens, they’re ill-suited to my work environment. Most of my uses for a pen are quickly jotting down notes on a variety of surfaces, often using my hand in lieu of scrap paper, and even when I have the luxury of writing on a hard surface, a fountain pen wouldn’t apply enough pressure to imprint onto the graphite copy of the forms I fill out.

Most sane people would look at such a predicament and buy a box of cheap pens from the nearest office supply store, but my fascination with shiny objects will have no truck with that. Thus, when I read Tony’s rave review of the Tactile Turn Shaker a few years back, I knew I had to get one. It appears that my reaction wasn’t an anomaly, either, as the Shaker is without a doubt the most commonly asked-after part of my daily carry.

Unfortunately, Will retired the Shaker years ago, so all I could tell the curious was that the pen was no longer sold. This was true until fall of last year, when he unveiled the second generation of Movers and Shakers, complete with a new, in-house clicky mechanism. Since then, the question has changed from “Where did you get that” to “Is it as good as the first one?” The short answer? Absolutely. Read on for the long answer.

General Dimensions and Details

The Shaker measures in at a neat 5” overall, and weighs just 1.13 ounces. While certainly heavier than the plastic pens supplied by most employers, it’s by no means egregious in use or in the pocket. This is also one of the few categories in which the two generations differ, as the original Shaker is ¼ ounce heavier. Another difference (and one that matters far more) is that Will took the grip pattern from the original Shaker and extended it over the entire body of the new model. The texturing is fantastic: it prevents your fingers from slipping, even in wet conditions, yet isn’t rough enough to cause any discomfort.

Will has a well-earned reputation for stellar machining, and this is plainly evident in the details of the second generation Shaker. Every line from the grip to the clicky mechanism is perfect. One example of this is the seam between the two halves of the body tube, which, while not entirely undetectable, plays a fair imitation of it. The threading is crisp, even, and smooth.

Writing and Refills

Each Shaker ships with a Schmidt Easy Flow 9000 refill. Prior to purchasing my original Shaker, the refill I was most familiar with was the Fisher Space Pen in black ink with a medium tip, and it’s probably the refill most folks in the gear community are familiar with. It writes anywhere, regardless of the conditions, and those are great attributes if you need them. If you don’t, there are significant shortcomings that may not be obvious if you haven’t tried other refills. Prior to using the Schmidt, I had no idea that it took an abnormal amount of pressure to write with the Fisher. Other than the weight of the pen, the Schmidt requires virtually no pressure to leave a smooth, consistent line on the page.

Fair warning to the left-handed: the Schmidt takes a few moments to dry, so if smudges are a concern, consider purchasing a different refill online or at a local office supply store. The Shaker accepts all Parker style refills, and I’ve been told it’ll take others if you trim them down to fit.

Deployment and Carry

What truly sets the second generation Shaker apart from the first is the new, in-house clicky mechanism. Good as it is, the original uses a brass Schmidt mechanism that’s prone to wearing out and jamming. It’s enough of a problem that I’ve had to replace the mechanism at least two times. By contrast, Will’s new design is constructed entirely of titanium, and thus far has proven to be quite robust. Despite the rough and tumble nature of fieldwork, the second generation exhibits none of the problems of its predecessor.

The Shaker is the perfect kind of pocket pen: unobtrusive and secure when it’s not needed, yet easy to access when it is. Will deserves a heap of praise for his clip design, which is so simple I can’t fathom why others aren’t using it. Clip aside, the new mechanism has a longer cycle length, which translates into fewer accidental exposures of the refill. More than a few of my old work shirts bear ink stains from the original Shaker.

Tactile Turn Shaker V2 Review – Final Thoughts

If you compare them side-by-side, it’s pretty clear that the Shaker V2 is substantially better. It’s lighter, has a better grip, a more robust mechanism, and in general is finished to a higher quality than the V1. I still carry my original Shaker on a regular basis, but frankly, for sentimental reasons rather than utilitarian ones.

There are a few competitors that operate in this little share of the market, but honestly, Will’s stuff is far and away my favorite. The Shaker V2 is my benchmark for modern ballpoint pens, and will remain so until someone manages to change my mind. If you need a pen that’s durable enough for fieldwork but elegant enough for the boardroom, look no farther.

Tactile Turn Shaker V2
From: BladeHQ

Editor: I recommend buying the Tactile Turn Shaker at BladeHQ or Amazon. Thank you for reading.

Steel Will Modus F25-12 Review

by Grayson Parker 51 Comments

For most gear geeks, big box stores are a disappointment. Generally the most you can expect to find are some of the nicer Kershaw models, or, if they cater to hunters and law enforcement, a few Benchmades. The one store that broke that model was Sport Chalet. In the year and a half prior to going out of business, the knife case at my local Sport Chalet expanded from the usual suspects – Kershaw, Gerber, Leatherman, a few Benchmades – to include some of the more exotic SOG knives, as well as a few offerings from a relatively new company: Steel Will.

Buy the Steel Will Modus at BladeHQ

Buy on Amazon

At the time, Steel Will was producing high-end backlocks and a range of fixed blades, and though the designs were attractive, I was never comfortable ponying up the $200+ dollars for a knife that was too big to carry on campus. After trying and failing to buy a Gekko 1552 on the cheap at my local Sport Chalet’s closing sale, I put the company out of mind, assuming that they wouldn’t leave much of an impact in the market.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. Nick Shabazz’s review of the Cutjack caught me completely off guard, as not only was this not the Steel Will I was familiar with, but he compared it favorably to the Ontario RAT 1 and 2, both of which are stellar knives for the price. Steel Will was back on my radar, and it was only a matter of time before one of their products ended up on the review docket.

As it turns out, I didn’t have long to wait. Thanks to an informal giveaway hosted by @brancon (a reader, listener, and all-around great guy), I’ve been able to tote the Steel Will Modus F25-12 around for a few months and gather my thoughts on it, which are collected below. Since I came by the Modus because of someone else’s generosity, it only makes sense to pass it along to the community. Read on to learn how you could win one of the better value knives available.

General Dimensions and Blade Details

The Steel Will Modus is 7.625” overall, with a 3.25” blade housed in a 4.375” handle. Though it doesn’t approach the “voodoo” territory of the Kizer Feist, the Modus does fit a wide, long blade into a fairly compact handle. There is no sense of wasted internal volume like there is with, say, the Spyderco Manix 2LW. Due to the nested, skeletonized steel liners, it’s also relatively lightweight at just 3.39 oz, and thus manages to feel stout but not bulky. Fair warning: though it may not feel like a large knife in the pocket, the blade is probably a bit too long for some office environments, and is certainly too long for some city ordinances.

Size considerations aside, the profile of the Modus’s blade is one of my personal favorites, a modified sheepsfoot (which is arguably just a funky drop point). The gentle, continuous curve of the edge is perfect for everyday cutting tasks. It’s just as good at breaking down boxes as it is preparing a picnic lunch, and as most of the spine’s thickness is carried to the tip of the blade, it should be able to handle some incidental abuse without pause.

In keeping with the theme of general utility, the Modus features a high flat grind. When done right, flat grinds are lean cutters that don’t get bound up in stubborn material like cardboard. Done wrong, they’re sharpened prybars. The success of any given flat grind is mostly dependent on two factors: 1.) how thick the blade stock is, and 2.) where the grind starts. A thick blade can be a fine cutter if the grind starts high enough (the Spyderco Techno is a good example), and a thin blade can be robbed of its potential if the grind starts too low (for instance, the ZT0450). The Modus has the best of both: thin blade stock, at just .11” thick, and a high flat grind.

Unlike most imported value knives, the Modus does not have 8Cr13MoV stamped on the blade. Instead, its blade is made of D2, a not-quite-stainless tool steel with a reputation for toughness and edge retention. My experience with the Modus bears that reputation out. It retained a serviceable (if not outstanding) edge after breaking down a pile of boxes, and it didn’t pick up any chips during the task, either. Unfortunately, it is prone to staining, if not rusting, and I’ve gotten into the habit of wiping it down with some cleaner after carrying it for the day, whether I used it or not.

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

The Modus’s handle is, in silhouette, a lean, organic, and slightly aggressive design. Its green FRN scales are supported by nested, skeletonized steel liners, as well as a black stainless steel backspacer. That sounds like a recipe for success, and it would have been, were it not for one problem: the handle pattern. The splotchy, mismatched flecks reek of the 1990s. If I more than glance at the handle scales, I’m immediately whisked back to the cartoons and advertisements of my youth.

Despite finding the handle ugly as sin, I can’t deny that it’s ergonomically superb. The finger indexes suggest rather than demand where your fingers fall, the steel backspacer serves as a counterbalance for the heavy blade, and the generous contouring of the FRN scales ensures that there’s no truly incorrect way to hold the Modus. Even the pattern is functionally excellent, as it lends grip without creating a single hotspot.

If a knife is comfortable to hold, it’s comfortable to carry, at least in my experience. The Modus’s slim profile, contoured handle, and unobtrusive weight all suggest that it should be a fine pocket companion. The pocket clip (often an afterthought for designers) is flawless, neither shredding the lip of my pocket nor making the act of stowing or retrieving it a nuisance. Unfortunately, Steel Will has the same problem with flipper tabs that Cold Steel has with, well, knives. Namely, that small isn’t a dirty word. At the risk of parroting Nick Shabazz, he was spot on in calling it a “pocket pecker”. It might as well be a woodpecker, tapping away at whatever else is floating around in my pocket. It’s not a dealbreaker, but it’s certainly not endearing.

Deployment and Lock Safety

Fortunately, the Modus’s flipper tab isn’t a total loss. It may not play well with others, but it does just fine as a deployment method. The tab can be pushed (like a button) or pulled (like a lightswitch) to deploy the blade, and each method works well. I’ve had slightly better luck treating it like a button, as the detent isn’t quite crisp enough to open the blade without a bit of extra force behind it. The pivot runs on washers, and the action isn’t especially smooth. (Take that with a grain of salt, however: I tend to overtighten pivot screws on my knives.)

You know you’ve seen too many framelocks when a liner lock feels like a refreshing change of pace. Snide commentary aside, liner locks – this one included – are great. Compared to framelocks, liner locks are less likely to screw up the ergonomics, they’re easier to replace if something goes wrong, and they’re more than strong enough to handle whatever a rational human would use a knife for. The lock on this particular model consistently engages 30-40% of the blade tang, and there is no lock stick, lock rock, or blade play. Disengaging the lock is simple, as the locking leaf is slightly proud of the FRN scales and machined for extra grip.

Steel Will Modus Review – Final Thoughts

My quibbles aside, the Modus is a great knife, especially for the price. Its D2 blade stands head and shoulders above the hoard of budget knives and their 8Cr13MoV steel; factor in the excellent ergonomics, sturdy pocket clip, and reliable (if not great) deployment, and it’s easy to forgive the Nickelodeon-esque handle pattern and oversized flipper tab.

Even so, the competition is quite stiff. Ontario’s RAT 1 and RAT 2 are highly regarded, feature the same materials, and come in at a similar price point. I suspect they’re even made in the same factory, so really, pick whichever model suits your fancy. The Kershaw Skyline is a perennial favorite, if a bit more expensive. I’d consider the 14C28N steel to be a step up from D2, but others can justifiably disagree. Still, the Skyline is a hair too nice to really abuse, and the more robust Modus is better suited to, say, a construction site.

There’s always room for a knife like the Modus in someone’s toolbox. Those on a budget will appreciate that it punches above its price point, and those who’ve long since abandoned rational purchases will be happy to know that their beater knife is still a well-made tool.

As stated in the introduction, I’m giving the Modus away. All you have to do is leave a comment below. A week after this post goes up, I’ll select one commenter using a random number generator, and ship the Modus out to them. Shipping is on me if the winner is within the United States. Apologies for that, but international shipping is a pain.

Next up: the Tactile Turn Shaker V2.

Steel Will Modus F25-11 Linerlock, Black, 3.27" Blade

Crafted from the highest quality materials
Built for performance and durability
Made in China
Built To Last.

Editor: I recommend purchasing the Steel Will Modus at Amazon or BladeHQ. Thanks for reading.

Rike Thor4s Review

by Grayson Parker Leave a Comment

Rike doesn’t enjoy the same name recognition that Reate, Kizer, or WE Knives does. While those companies are easily recognizable as the leading names in the renaissance of Chinese knife manufacturing, Rike is often left out of the conversation. On one hand, that’s perfectly understandable: unlike Kizer, WE, or Reate, Rike hasn’t cultivated much cachet with trendy designers, relying instead on in-house designs. At the same time, they have the same reputation for quality as the others, and an aesthetic all their own besides.

Buy the Rike Thor4s at BladeHQ

To be perfectly honest, I never thought that Rike would produce a knife that’d suit my tastes. Most of their offerings have blades nearly four inches long, which is utterly out of bounds for my line of work. When I saw the specs for the Thor4s, I nearly spit out my coffee. A reasonably sized integral? From Rike, no less? I was intrigued, and luckily, my girlfriend noticed and passed that information along to my family.

It should be noted that this was a Christmas present from my folks, and if ever there was a cause for bias, it’s the knowledge that your family might read every criticism you level at an earnestly given gift. I don’t think this has affected my judgment, but all the same, it’s something you should know.

General Dimensions and Blade Details

The Rike Thor4s is among the smallest knives in my collection, with a blade length of 2.375”, a handle length of 3.125”, an overall length of 5.5”, and a weight of 2.08 oz. To be perfectly honest, I was caught off guard by just how small this knife is; to give you a sense a scale, the box is so small I mistook it for jewelry. The blade is short enough that it’s less than ideal on a picnic, but it’s more than long enough for standard office chores. It also bears mentioning that with a blade length less than 2.5”, it’s unlikely to spook any coworkers.

Despite Rike’s fascination with angles, they chose a simple drop point for the blade’s profile. Were it not for a few issues I’ll bring up momentarily, this would be the utilitarian ideal. Most of the spine’s thickness is brought to the tip, so there’s little concern of snapping the tip off, whether in a fall or a bit of prying. The belly is just wide enough to feed, say, the edge of an envelope into, but not so wide that it’ll slip out of a cardboard box you’re breaking down.

The grind on the Thor4s is immaculate. All the details are perfectly executed: the plunge lines are crisp, the swedge is even, and both the primary grind and cutting bevel are consistent and well finished. Unfortunately, the blade stock is thick enough that all that work at a grinder is functionally irrelevant. It cuts fine, don’t get me wrong, but it’s no slicer. That would normally be a deal breaker, but as mentioned above, it’s too short for most food prep anyway.

This is the first knife I’ve reviewed that has M390 steel, and truth be told I haven’t really put it through its paces. A knife this size is meant for intermittent office use, not breaking down a pallet of boxes. It’s held its edge without chipping or rolling, hasn’t rusted, and responds reasonably well to a loaded leather strop. The high satin polish has a remarkable rainbow sheen that undoubtedly helps with rust resistance.

Handle, Ergonomics, and Carry

Of course, the prime selling point of the Rike Thor4s is its integral handle. For the uninitiated, that means that the handle is milled from a single block of material, which in this case is titanium. It’s an expensive process with few (if any) practical upsides, and most of an integral’s appeal lies in its status as a feat of engineering. Rike’s design language carries this theme to its logical endpoint, as the over-machined aesthetic pushes the Thor4s into “pocketable sculpture” territory.

Overall, the ergonomics of the Thor4s are fine, with the exception of two distinct flaws. The first of those is the butt of the handle, which, as you can see, tapers down to a wide, flaired end that leaves a rather sharp point on either side of the handle. In turn, this generates a slight hotspot when the knife is opened, though not when it’s held normally during use. The second issue is the pocket clip. For what I can only guess are aesthetic reasons, the tip of the clip isn’t rounded, or even squared: instead, it ends in an angular point. Most of the time this isn’t a problem, but every so often it catches on the meat of my palm in an altogether unpleasant way.

Normally knives with questionable ergonomics are also unpleasant to carry, but such isn’t the case here. It’s lightweight, compact, and its ergonomic flaws are only noticeable in the hand. As much as I want to rail against milled pocket clips in general, the spring tension on the Thor4s is quite nice, neither fraying the lip of my pocket nor acting like a hook instead of a clip.

Deployment and Lock Up

The blade is deployed by a well-executed flipper. It’s definitely of the ‘pull’ variety: trying to push on the tab will only leave you with a bruised finger. Instead of washers, the pivot runs on caged bearings, which is to be expected at this price point. The detent is crisp, the action is smooth, and as far as deployment is concerned, there’s not a fault to be found.

Once deployed, the blade is held open by a titanium frame lock that features a stainless steel lock insert. There is no horizontal or vertical blade play, and the lock consistently engages around 30% of the blade tang. The decorative pivot collar also functions as an overtravel stop. This is exactly the list of features I want in an integral frame lock. By contrast, when I was working on the DPx Aculus review, I was always aware that if something happened to the lock, I’d be up a certain creek without a paddle.

Rike Thor 4 Review – Final Thoughts

Overall, the Thor4s is an intriguing – if imperfect – addition to the market. The blade stock is a bit chunky, and the ergonomics a bit pokey, but at heart the Thor4s is an office knife, and as such those two flaws are tolerable. Between the top notch manufacturing, high end materials, and the novelty of a sub-3” integral, there’s more than enough to redeem the design.

It’s difficult to find comparisons to the Thor4s. There are plenty of production integrals, but few at this price point, and none at this size. The Lionsteel SR-22 (when it debuts) will be the next smallest integral that I’m aware of, but even then it will be substantially larger than the Thor4s. If you’re in the market for reasonably sized integral, this is likely your only option.

Next up: the Steel Will Modus.

Editor: I recommend purchasing the Rike Thor4s at BladeHQ or Amazon.com. Thanks for reading!

Seiko SARB017 ‘Alpinist’ Review

by Grayson Parker 10 Comments

The internet is a terrible place. Sure, it’s led to countless advances, enabled markets that never would have existed otherwise, and allows us humans to keep in touch with each other in ways never seen before, but it also pushes me to make stupid decisions with my money on a regular basis. For example: if there were no internet, there’d be no 555Gear. If there were no 555Gear, I wouldn’t have stumbled across this video of the Seiko Alpinist. If I didn’t stumble across that video, I wouldn’t be typing this right now with a Seiko Alpinist on my wrist.

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Without the internet – or more specifically, the online watch community – it’s likely that the Alpinist would be relegated to obscurity outside of Japan. That’s not an indictment of the watch, mind. It’s just that the Alpinist doesn’t really have much name recognition to draw on prior to 1995. Versions older than that bear no resemblance to the modern SARB017, which was released in 2006 and has grown to be a hit among watch enthusiasts.

Fit

The Alpinist is a small watch by modern standards. At 38mm wide by 12mm tall, it’s an altogether different experience compared to my usual go-to, the Seiko Turtle. If the Turtle is the largest watch I can wear, the Alpinist is probably the smallest. The 38mm case doesn’t look undersized on my 7.25” wrist, but anyone with larger wrists should definitely try it on prior to purchase. Thankfully the case isn’t tall enough to attract the attention of nearby door knobs.

Movement

Ticking away inside the Alpinist is Seiko’s 6R15 movement, which is frequently found in middle and upper tier Seiko watches. Introduced in 2006, the 6R15 is a derivative of the venerable 7S26, though it adds hacking, handwinding, and a 50 hour power reserve. The product literature states that it shouldn’t gain more than 25 or lose more than 15 seconds per day, and my dalliance with a time tracking app indicates that the Alpinist is losing an average of 5.3 seconds a day – pretty good rate, all told. Resetting it once or twice a month has kept me on time, and doing so isn’t a hassle thanks to the hacking seconds hand. Additionally, the Alpinist’s movement features Seiko’s Diashock system, which allows the movement to better absorb impacts or falls.

Case and Crown

The case is stunning, if simple. Most of the surfaces have such a high polish that light runs across it like liquid. Yes, it will scratch easily: mine has picked up several already, despite all efforts to the contrary. They’re small enough that some polishing cloth could likely remove them, but for now they don’t detract from the aesthetics. As this is designed to be a mountaineering watch, it’s no surprise that the Alpinist doesn’t feature a display caseback, but instead has an engraved steel plate.

The Alpinist has a signed crown at 3 o’clock and a smaller, unsigned crown at 4 o’clock. The former is the primary crown, and is used to wind the watch and set the time and date, while the latter is used to rotate the internal compass bezel (which will be discussed below). Both crowns are expertly finished and feature large ridges instead of knurling or a similar pattern, although the ‘valleys’ between ridges on the primary crown are machined for a bit of extra grip. It’s a subtle touch, but appreciated.

Dial, Bezel, and Crystal

Of course, the true draw of the Alpinist is the sunburst green dial. It possesses an odd (and difficult to photograph) characteristic: the color and texture of the dial changes depending on the light. In shade, it’s darker, smoother, and softer, almost like mossy undergrowth; direct sunlight, on the other hand, brings out warm undertones and sharpens the slight texture on the dial. The golden hands, numerals, and indices work surprisingly well in both cases. Seiko’s choice of cathedral hands lends an elegance to the design, even if I can’t shake the feeling that they’d look perfectly at home in Middle Earth.

Given the dressy aesthetic of the dial and hands, one would expect some of the technical notes to detract from the cohesiveness of the design. Oddly enough, that isn’t the case. The interior of the hands are painted with Seiko’s Lumibrite, and there are lume pips on the dial just over (or under, depending on your perspective) each numeral and indice. They’re unobtrusive during the day, but sadly they’re also quite small, which means the luminance fades quickly, especially on the pips. The hands retain their glow – albeit faintly – for an hour or two.

As mentioned above, the Alpinist does have an internal rotating compass bezel, which can be used to approximate your bearing. It only works in the Northern Hemisphere, and you need to know the position of the sun to use it, but I suppose it’s a handy backup. I’d never forego a real compass because of this. Luckily, it works fine as a timer. It’s not as easy to use as the dive bezel on my Turtle, but I can still use it to time rest periods at the gym or flush cycles on the job. Regrettably, it wasn’t implemented all that well: when changing the bearing, it will, on occasion, derail from whatever track it’s on and shift a bit. It’s not a dealbreaker, but it is an annoyance.

Strap and Bracelet

If the Alpinist has a true Achilles heel, it’s the included strap. There is not a single positive thing to be said about it. The faux-alligator leather looks and feels plastic; it’s not even suitable for formal wear, which is what such a strap -should- be ideal for. What’s more, it’s not simply ugly: it’s uncomfortable to boot. The padding in the strap prevented the Alpinist from sitting comfortably on my wrist, and it never broke in to a noticeable extent.

Luckily, there are plenty of good aftermarket straps available for the 20mm lug width. I alternate between a Worn and Wound Model 2 and a ToxicNATOS Shiznit in jungle green, and those suit my needs well. The stainless steel OEM bracelet is spoken well of online, though I can’t personally vouch for it.

Seiko SARB017 ‘Alpinist’ Review – Final Thoughts

Ignore my grousing in the introduction. Yes, the purchase may have been ill-advised, but it’s certainly not one I regret. The Alpinist is a beautiful watch that I wear all the time. It’s flaws – the awful strap and the wiggly compass bezel – are easy to fix and ignore, respectively.

There’s not much in the way of competition for the Alpinist, as there aren’t any other watches that fill the same niche. There are other field watches, other dress watches, other casual watches, but none of them have the look or feel of the Alpinist. That’s not to say that other watches aren’t as beautiful, accurate, or well made as the Alpinist – far from it – but that the Alpinist is unique enough that finding competitors is difficult.

Those unique characteristics are also why I can freely recommend this watch to anyone that’s interested in it. It can be dressed up or down depending on your needs, and there’s honestly nothing else quite like it out there.

Next up: the Rike Thor4s.

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Editor: I recommend purchasing the Seiko Alpinist at Amazon. Please consider that buying 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.