I love knitting socks, and have developed an unhealthy hankering for sock yarn in all its softness, variegated colors and self-striping mystery. When leafing through yarn catalogues I always slow down at the sock yarn pages, and have succumbed to temptation more than once and bought several skeins of sock yarn to add to my stash, with visions of perfectly matched pairs of cabled or lacy hand knit socks dancing in my head. The irony of this was, despite being cold of foot, until this week I didn't yet actually KNOW how to knit socks, and though I had tried to understand the method, had yet to see a whole sock through to the toe.
For some reason, the double-pointed needles and I just don't seem to get along. I could never get further than the obligatory leg tube before losing patience with laddered stitches at the joins that offended me so. I usually knit at a very loose gauge, but on the tiny needles I found myself gripping the working yarn so tightly that it often broke. At this point knitting was more extended torture than the relaxed and joyful activity I was used to.
I decided that a careful study of the mechanics of sock-making was in order, and during this study, which actually wasn't a study, really, but more of a concentrated googling, I learned of a technique that allowed the sock maker to use two circular needles instead of the double-pointed ones. After reading comments from many other knitters, I realized that Cat Bordhi's book Socks Soar on Two Circular Needles was a great resource on this technique, and I picked up my own copy. Mechanically, I understood the technique in just a few minutes.
I quickly decided to embark on an experiment in engineering, following the directions and making notes as to what about the technique needed to change for the truly left-handed knitter. I inquired on an Internet group I belong to if anyone had attempted the socks-on-2-circulars approach, and if they had had to make any modifications for handedness while working with this technique. Someone wrote me back and said that she had used the book, but had "reversed all the directions."
My plan was to create a giant sock using worsted weight wool on two circular needles, size 5, so that I could learn the technique, but more importantly, so that I could see exactly what I was doing. My first attempt at a heel turn yielded a heel that turned to the inside of the sock; I decided it was Cubist, at once inside out and outside in.
My second attempt yielded a heel on the outside where it should be, but with improperly chained stitches along the heel flap. At the point where I thought there must certainly be an error in the pattern, I couldn't possibly be supposed to
By my third attempt at a sock, I discovered that what I needed to do was simple: FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS. Because the sock is essentially a circle, who cares which way you go around it, as long as you put the ribbing in the right place, and decrease symmetrically on either side for the gusset? My misplaced purl bumps on the sides of the heel flap were merely the results of over thinking. So today I’m further along on my giant sock than I have been on any sock before. And I am pleased to report that I think tonight I will be finishing up the toe, and I think at that point it will be time for a picture.
