By mid-morning we were making steady progress up the ridge. The sun was higher now, dappled through oak branches above us. We paused on a ledge that overlooked the ocean, open-faced against the breeze. I pulled out a snack of cheese and apple slices, and with one hand I flipped open my folding knife. The Damascus steel blade glinted in the light, its rippling pattern clearly visible and beautiful, almost like the ocean waves below mirrored on metal. It sliced effortlessly through a ripe apple, the edge running so cleanly that it felt almost artistic. I remembered YOUSUNLONG’s blurb about these blades: they’re forged from “above 73 layers” of high- and low-carbon steel and heat-treated to about 60 HRC. In plain words, this means they hold an edge a long time and stay sharp under use — something I could feel as soon as I saw how easily the blade cut through fruit, cheese, and sandwich wraps alike. We joked that with this kind of “super high sharpness” it probably could chop rope or even small branches just as easily, but for now it handled our picnic with zero effort.
After refueling, we continued on. The trail wound up through chaparral and wildflowers, and I noticed just how light the knives felt in my pockets. They were compact yet substantial — about 8 inches long when open — and the olive wood handle was contoured to fit snugly. Whenever I brushed it with my fingers, it felt familiar and smooth. The grip really did conform to my hand: the YOUSUNLONG write-up had pointed out that olive wood’s natural oils help maintain a silky texture over time. Sure enough, even after handling damp leaves and morning dew, the wood handle never felt slick or sticky. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised that it didn’t absorb water and turn spongy. The brand even notes that olive wood is resistant to moisture and bacteria, which made sense now — the knife never felt grimy or prone to mildew, even after some light rain showers passed.
At the next clearing we stopped to set up a small lunch camp. One of us sharpened sticks for roasting marshmallows while the other arranged food. I used the second knife to slice some bread and portion out fruit. The process was smooth. I appreciated how the blade’s point could easily pick up a slice of avocado, and how the spine of the knife was sturdy enough to crack open a hazelnut without folding. Even bending the strong tip into a bit of steak was no problem. I especially noticed the benefit of having three different knives on hand: one was a bit larger (about 8.5 inches open) for tougher tasks like halving a thick sandwich roll, another mid-sized (just under 8 inches open) for regular slicing, and a slightly smaller one (around 7.5 inches) for quick trimming of petals or cleaning the raspberries. All three shared that warm olive wood grip and matched Damascus pattern, so switching between them felt seamless. Passersby might have thought I was a knife enthusiast, but all I knew was that I felt prepared. Our friend remarked how the handles looked almost antique, like something hand-carved – I had to admit, they were made by hand and they felt like it. Despite all the use, they held their charm. Even back in camp that night, sitting by the fire, one knife made its rounds as we chopped chocolate bars into the graham crackers, while another patiently waited to be scrolled or twirled in idle conversation. By sunset, one of the knives had accidentally been used to scrape charred marshmallow off my hand — all part of the adventure — and its handle still looked and felt as good as before.
One moment of the day stood out: we decided to clear a spot to set up the tent. I handed a coil of paracord to one friend and took on the task of making guide stakes from green tree branches. My third YOUSUNLONG knife came out. It was robust enough to shave bark off for fit, yet sharp enough to split a thick piece of wood. Each whittle was precise: bark curls falling away in long spirals with little effort. No stick or piece of cord gave me trouble. Somewhere in the instructions I had read that these Damascus blades are meant for “rope, leather, branches, carton, etc.”. That turned out to be true. After a few minutes the poles were cut to length and our shelter frame was ready. The blade never chattered or felt dull, even after scraping wood for a while. It impressed me how you could feel the craftsmanship behind it — the brand boasts each knife as a “priceless piece of art”, and though I rarely think of tools as art, holding one that night by firelight, I had to concede it did have an artistry to it. The swirling Damascus pattern caught the firelight as I slid the blade back into its olive wood handle, looking just as stunning and unexpected as the Milky Way we would soon watch emerge overhead.
Walking out of the woods as the sky darkened, I took a quiet moment to reflect on the day. The knives had done everything I’d hoped: they were useful without being cumbersome, beautiful without being fragile. My hands still felt the warmth of the olive wood, even after all our prepping and cooking. I remembered how easily one knife had opened a can of beans by carefully wedging under the rim when the can-opener broke (something we never planned for, but I found I could improvise). I thought about the feel of the blade snapping open one-handed, or how none of the woods underfoot had made it slide closed unexpectedly. Every little feature was a reminder of thoughtful design: the locking mechanism, the balanced weight, and that ergonomic curve in the handle that made a cramp nearly disappear. In the calm hush of evening, this was gear that felt like an extension of me rather than a burden on my pack.
California’s wild places have a way of balancing excitement with peace, and I felt that balance exactly. Part of the pleasure of a hike like this is always the little wins – slicing up fruit for the trail picnic, shaping tent stakes, cutting a finger-licking slice of cheese – and having the right tool makes those moments smoother. These knives weren’t flashy high-tech gadgets with buttons and alarms; they were something more timeless. They reminded me of tradition – a wood handle and a sharp blade – but elevated in quality. When something so simple works so well, it brings a subtle confidence. As we walked the final stretch on a ridge top, ocean breezes around us and stars rising ahead, I had a smile on my face. The right gear can turn good moments great, and out here it wasn’t about impressing anyone with brand names or flash. It was just about feeling at home in nature, with tools that respected the environment. Even now, back at home, when I hold those knives I think of the ocean breeze and smell the campfire smoke. The sight of their olive wood handles brings a little of that day back.
In the end, it wasn’t just a matter of having useful knives; it was the satisfaction of a tool that felt perfectly suited to the place. At home in Big Sur’s sun and wind, each YOUSUNLONG folding knife combined elegance and ruggedness. They were comfortable in my hand and precise in my tasks. They amplified the joy of being outside — reminding me that sometimes the smallest pleasures, like a well-sharpened blade or the smooth curve of polished wood, can make a hike feel that much more perfect. And that’s the simple truth I’ll carry with me: when good gear and great nature meet, you get a day you’ll remember.
