So, I finally got my hands on this new sock knitting machine I’d been eyeing. The unboxing was, well, an unboxing. Lots of bits and pieces, more than I thought, honestly. I spread everything out on the dining table, much to my family’s delight, I’m sure.
Getting Started – Or Trying To
First thing was clamping it down. Seemed simple enough. The instructions were… okay, let’s be honest, they looked like they were translated ten times. But I figured, how hard can it be? I’ve seen videos. Famous last words, right?
My first attempt to cast on was a mess. Dropped stitches everywhere. The yarn just sort of… slipped off. I spent a good hour just trying to get a decent first row going. It’s not like hand knitting where you can easily see what’s what. This thing is a circular beast, and the yarn has to go through this specific tensioning arm, then down through the carriage. If that tension ain’t right, forget it.
I remember reading about some of those big fancy machines, like the Silver Reed SK-280, or even those Prym Maxi ones. People say they churn out perfect socks. Mine’s not one of those super pro models, but it’s supposed to be decent for home use. The idea is you can make socks to specific sizes, all neat and tidy. Ha! My first few attempts looked more like abstract art.
The Learning Curve is Real
Then came the actual knitting. Once I sort of got the cast-on, I started cranking. It was satisfying for about two minutes, then I heard a thunk. Another dropped stitch, unraveling half the work. Ugh. I nearly threw the thing across the room. I had to re-thread the yarn, pick up the stitches (which is a pain on these machines), and try again. And again.
You see all these methods for making socks, right? Some knit them top-down, others go bottom-up. Then there’s stuff like afterthought heels where you knit a tube and add the heel later. I was just trying to make a basic tube at this point, never mind fancy heels!
- Figuring out the weights – that was a whole other saga. Too little, and the stitches float. Too much, and the machine groans.
- Yarn choice matters too. I started with some cheap stuff, thankfully. Wouldn’t want to waste the good wool on my learning disasters.
- Counting rows is key. I kept losing track. My first “pair” of socks? One was an ankle sock, the other could have fit a giant.
Why Did I Even Bother?
You might be asking why I put myself through this. Well, I’ve been hand-knitting socks for years. Love doing it. But it’s slow. Like, really slow. I had this grand idea of gifting handmade socks to everyone last Christmas, and let me tell you, by November, my hands were cramping, and I had completed exactly… three socks. Not pairs, socks.
My grandma, she used to have an old, ancient sock machine. A real cast iron thing. I remember being fascinated by it as a kid. It seemed like magic. So, part of it was nostalgia, and part of it was just plain ambition to make more socks, faster. I figured these modern machines, specialized as they are for just hosiery, must be easier. Well, “easier” is relative, I guess.
Getting There, Slowly
But, I’m stubborn. I kept at it. Watched a ton of videos. Read forums. Cussed a bit more. And slowly, very slowly, I started to get the hang of it. I can now cast on without wanting to cry. I can knit a decent tube. I’ve even managed a few simple heels that don’t look completely lopsided.
The yarn still snags sometimes. The tension still needs babying. It’s not the magic sock-printing machine I might have dreamed of as a kid. It takes work and patience, just like anything else. But when you finally pull a recognizable sock off that thing, there’s a definite sense of achievement. It’s different from hand knitting, for sure, but still pretty cool. I’m not churning out socks like a factory yet, but I’m getting there. Maybe next Christmas, everyone actually gets a pair.
