I’m Jared.
A few years ago, I found myself completely lost. I didn’t know what to do with my life.
I ended up relocating from the city to a friend’s beautiful farm, where there was an awesome old art studio turned cabin not far from the main house. The cabin was incredibly basic — no TV, no bathroom, no toilet and no kitchen. Just a bed, a few power points, one cold-water outdoor tap, and a fireplace. It ran on solar. Water was limited. Every drop mattered.
As winter set in, I had to start cutting firewood just to stay warm. There was no insulation, and the cold crept in fast. I borrowed an axe from a friend nearby. It was terrible — dull, unbalanced, and hard to use. I looked online for something better. Reviews. Comparisons. What axe for what timber. There was almost nothing. Just the same generic hardware-store tools, and that was supposed to be enough.
So I took matters into my own hands.
I bought what were considered two of the best axes on the market. The difference was night and day — cutting power, feel in the hand, efficiency. That’s when I started paying attention: head shape, handle timber versus composite, how each tool behaved in softwood, hardwood, green wood, dry wood.
It became a passion. I tested splitting mauls, felling axes, everything I could get. I joined the Progressive Axe Association here in Perth, WA, and learned proper axemanship. There’s a science to it. You can’t buy one axe and expect it to do every job. That’s a mistake a lot of people make.
Before long I had about ten axes, each with a purpose. None of them were perfect. Every one had limits. That gap is what kept me going.
Ironically, splitting wood is what pulled me out of the darkness. Structure. Purpose. Focus. The physicality of it. Men have been doing this since the beginning of time for a reason. The axe is one of humanity’s oldest tools — and still one of the most powerful.
Now I encourage other people to pick one up. Get outside. Split some wood. It’s not just survival. It’s medicine for the mind.
That obsession didn’t stop at collecting tools. I started designing my own.
Over the last few years I’ve built multiple prototypes of what became the Delta EQ1 — different steels, different geometries, different balances — chopping, splitting, refining, going back again. I wasn’t looking for “good enough.” I was looking for an axe that actually earned a place in the woodpile.
That’s also when I partnered with my business partner. With his help I’ve been able to take the EQ1 off the bench and into a real production run. Extra hands, extra capital, and the space to keep testing instead of guessing.
We are now about to launch our first run of 500 Delta EQ1 axes.
This first 500 is not the end of the story. After they go out the door, I’m back at the drawing board. The Delta will keep evolving. Better steel. Better lines. Better feel. That’s the point of this work.
If you pick one of these first 500 up, you’re holding the version that got us here — the one that came out of a cold cabin, a bad borrowed axe, years of prototypes, and a partnership that finally made it possible to put it in other people’s hands.
Then we start again.