Knives are one of the most polarising items in hiking gear. Some hikers never carry one and see no reason to. Others use one quietly and frequently, without much thought or discussion. The disagreement is rarely about the tool itself. It’s about how knives get framed and why people think they’re carried.
I don’t think a knife is essential hiking gear. Plenty of people hike safely and comfortably without one, including on long and remote trips, and carrying a knife doesn’t make someone more capable any more than leaving one at home makes someone unprepared. Like gaiters or a buff, a knife is a situational tool that earns its place only if it solves problems you actually run into.
This isn’t about survival scenarios or self-defence. It’s about when a small knife or cutting tool is genuinely useful on the trail, when it adds little, and how I think about it as part of a practical hiking system.
Task-resolution, not emergency gear
On a hike, I don’t treat a knife as emergency equipment. I treat it as task-resolution equipment: something that handles small, repetitive, everyday jobs that are awkward or inefficient without a cutting edge. Most of these jobs are mundane rather than dramatic, but they come up often enough that the tool becomes quietly useful over time. It doesn’t replace judgement, planning, or skills. It just reduces friction when something needs to be cut, trimmed, opened, or modified.
That framing matters because it explains where a knife actually earns its keep, and where it doesn’t.
Where mine gets used
Even on day hikes, food packaging is often tougher than expected. Resealable bags tear, wrappers split unevenly, and food prep gets messy without a clean cut. A small knife or multitool lets you open food packaging cleanly, cut fruit, cheese, or wraps, trim excess packaging to cut down on waste, and manage shared food without tearing or crushing it. These uses increase on overnight hikes, but they’re just as relevant on longer day walks.
The same logic carries over to gear repair. Small failures happen regularly on the trail: a loose strap, a frayed cord, a minor tear that can escalate quickly if ignored. A cutting tool is useful for trimming snagged threads before they run, cutting repair patches cleanly for sleeping mats or tents, and shaping tape, cord, or webbing for a temporary fix, all of which stops small damage becoming a catastrophic failure. On-trail maintenance like this also helps gear last longer and reduces waste, which lines up naturally with Leave No Trace principles.
First aid is another place where a clean, controlled cut matters. A knife or scissors can be useful for cutting blister tape or dressings precisely, trimming bandages or adhesive strips, removing splinters or embedded plant material, and managing hygiene tasks discreetly and safely. In practice, I find the small scissors on a multitool more useful than a blade for most of this. They’re safer, more precise, and easier to control when you’re working close to skin.
Then there’s the trail itself. Australian tracks aren’t always neatly maintained, and encroaching vegetation, grass seeds, and debris create small but persistent annoyances. A knife can cut burrs or seeds from socks and gaiters, trim tangled vegetation from gear, or modify stakes or pegs in hard or rocky ground. None of this is dramatic, but it removes friction and keeps the walk flowing.
When a multitool makes more sense than a blade
For a lot of Australian hikers, a “knife” is really a small multitool: a short, non-aggressive blade, scissors for first aid and fine work, tweezers for splinters and ticks, and occasionally a small file or screwdriver. If you’re uncomfortable carrying a blade alone, or you value versatility over simplicity, a multitool often fits the task-resolution role better than a dedicated knife.
When it adds little
A knife is often unnecessary on short, well-maintained tracks, when you’re carrying minimal food with simple packaging, when conditions are predictable and uncomplicated, or when you’d rather minimise gear and manage tasks a different way. Plenty of hikers go years without needing a knife and never feel limited by it. That’s a valid choice, not a mistake.
The “macho gear” criticism has a point
The criticism that knives get carried as symbols rather than tools isn’t unfounded. Oversized blades, tactical styling, and vague “just in case” reasoning often signal identity rather than need. A practical hiking knife or multitool is small and non-aggressive in appearance, lives in a pack rather than on display, gets used quietly for ordinary tasks, and is forgotten when it isn’t needed. Carrying one doesn’t make someone more prepared, and not carrying one doesn’t make someone reckless. The tool has no moral weight. Its value is entirely contextual.
For the same reason, folding tools overwhelmingly make more sense than fixed blades for hiking. They’re lighter and easier to stow, attract less attention at trailheads, are safer to carry and transport, and solve nearly all realistic trail tasks. Fixed blades are rarely justified for hiking and often introduce unnecessary legal, social, and safety complications.
Knife laws and how I handle it
Knife laws vary by state and territory and can be strict. In most Australian jurisdictions, carrying a small utility knife or multitool for a lawful purpose such as hiking or camping is generally acceptable. Carrying a knife for self-defence, though, is explicitly not considered a lawful excuse. My approach is to carry only what I actually use, choose small, utility-focused tools, keep them stowed in a pack or food bag, and avoid wearing or displaying knives in public or high-traffic areas. It reduces risk, avoids unnecessary attention, and keeps things comfortable for everyone else on the trail.
Weight versus use
For hikers worried about weight, it’s worth knowing that many small folding knives and multitools weigh as little as 15 to 30 grams. At that point, the weight argument stops being about grams and becomes about whether the tool actually earns its place through use. If it sits unused trip after trip, it’s unnecessary weight. If it solves small problems regularly, it justifies itself.
Like gloves, gaiters, or a buff, a knife works best as part of a broader system rather than a standalone decision. Some hikers carry one on every hike because they routinely run into tasks it simplifies. Others carry one only on longer trips, overnight hikes, or routes where repairs and food prep are more likely. Both are valid. The difference is intention rather than habit.
Where I think hikers get it wrong
The most common mistake I see is treating a knife as emergency or survival gear rather than a convenience tool, which leads to oversized choices and unrealistic expectations. Another is assuming everyone should carry one, when hiking systems are personal and tools should be chosen based on conditions, experience, and preference. And some hikers carry knives they’re genuinely uncomfortable using. A tool you hesitate to handle safely isn’t an asset.
A knife makes sense to me when it quietly solves problems I actually encounter: helping me eat, repair something, manage a small injury, or adapt to conditions with less frustration. It doesn’t make sense as a symbol, a security blanket, or a substitute for planning and judgement. Used thoughtfully, it’s just another small piece of friction-reduction gear. Used blindly, it’s unnecessary weight.
I went through a phase of collecting a few knives when I started backpacking/hiking a few years back. After getting over the fact that I wasn’t John Rambo fighting for survival in the wilderness I’ve found Opinel knives to be great. They’re light, robust, perfect for food prep and capable enough for carving emergency tent pegs (and possibly defending yourself from a wilderness manhunt if you’re John Rambo on a good day).