The ‘Climber’ Swiss Army Knife

Slightly Bemused writes:

I found an old friend over the weekend. Well, sort of. Bottom of a box that once held a nice bottle of whiskey, since used for odds and ends. I had forgotten I still had this box, or the one it contained. MacGyver would have liked the contents, I am sure. It has a blue handle, and was bought in the cabin of a now defunct airline in the days when you could buy blades on board.

I have lost track of how many of these I had over the years, useful tools that helped in many situations. Forgetting once security became a bigger issue, I lost one when I forgot to pack it in my main luggage. They also took my nail clippers at the time. Whenever I left a posting, I would pass it on, a small gift to my friends and team staying behind.

I remember the first pocket knife I owned. An old one, single blade, no handle. My father found out, and I was not allowed to keep it. I was told to return it to the friend who gave it to me. In an ironic twist, he gave it to me because his father would not let him keep it. So we buried it, in the best secret treasure traditions of young boys who read too many stories.

At the base of the wall of an ancient dilapidated mud walled building, carefully scratching a secret sigil in the side to indicate the location, we wrapped it in a plastic sandwich bag to protect it and buried it deep. It was the last we saw of it. Before we could recover it, the house was torn down, our treasure likely entombed at the bottom of a pit of builder’s rubble somewhere.

I always wanted one of those ones that you can open with one hand, but my understanding is that they are illegal in many countries, including Ireland. Having the same knife as some American TV characters is not worth that, so I went down the MacGyver route.

Once I was old enough, I bought my own first proper Swiss knife. Took a few attempts to settle on the models I liked (Climber, if you like to know, but the Wenger Giant is a giggle!), but it had everything I thought I could need. I was, and still am, amazed at the engineering, and barring a rotary one, they have the best can openers I have come across. I have opened many a tin of beans and other delicacies over the years.

The model also has a reamer for putting holes in wood or sails, with a convenient hole through the shaft for threading coarse twine to repair your sail. Beside that, a handy item for clearing the stones out of your horses hooves. The remnants of the boy’s mind brought up on adventures pictured himself galloping across the plains to a port to escape the dastardly lord, with vital intelligence. Aboard ship, we meet with a calamity, and it is up to me to repair the sails. Later, we could celebrate by opening the bottle of rare wine with the handy corkscrew, toasting our success!

Of course, there were a few problems with this. Let us start with the fact I do not own a horse, and have a dreadful seat when astride one. I can barely sew on a button, so the sails were not likely to last much beyond whatever ministrations I made. And I was still too young for wine. Quick tip: if you have one: after inserting the corkscrew, there is a way to lean on the long end of the shaft. This breaks the first seal, and makes it easier to withdraw the rest. Ironically, it was a Swiss officer who showed this to me first.

Anyway, I grew up, and eventually did work in some places where having this useful item was a boon.

Later updates included essentials like scissors, toothpicks and tweezers. That last is a dangerous thing to let your daughter have access to. I was over to see her, and we were watching a film in my hotel room before I dropped her home. I can tell something is up, and eventually she gets up and goes to my luggage. she shuffles around and finds what she is looking for.

Back she comes, leans over me and says “Hold Still!” A moment later I yelp in surprise as she deftly plucks a hair from the centre of the bridge of my nose, just above my glasses. My hair was all darker then, and it was annoying her. I had never noticed it, and I have nothing close to a unibrow, but every so often now I spy it returning and with a chuckle I make sure it does not haunt her dreams. I somehow doubt the inventor ever expected that to be an application.

Now different people have different favourite pocket knives, and most pilots I knew always had Leathermans. They were built such that they could open a 200 litre drum of aviation fuel, which I guess could be important in rural, out-of-the-way places. But they did not have corkscrews, and their can openers were not as good.

Nor did they come with tweezers to meet the needs of precocious 10-year-old daughters.

Update: I spoke with Little Slightly, and re the hair issue, at my urging, she has added the following:

‘I read this and, while I don’t particularly remember it, I’m completely certain it’s true as I still do this to my fiance. He’ll have one random hair on his face or arm that’s longer and darker than the rest and I can’t stop staring at it. Just so distracting. At this point he knows and will just say “pull it” so we can continue on in the conversation. So, yes, I know this had to have been me. Also confused what you all use tweezers for, because their primary use here is to pluck facial hair.’

Should I mention that the reason stated on the Climber was always for removal of wood splinters? Probably not.

Slightly Bemused‘s column appears here every Wednesday.

Pic: Victorinox