I have been a fan of Traska since the second iteration of the Freediver, which demonstrated the brand’s steady hand at refining their existing models for continual improvement. Over the years, we at the Time Bum have lauded praise on Traska’s watches, including naming the Summiteer our inaugural Microbrand Watch of the Year. I’ve gone on a mini-safari with the Venturer, and marvelled at its ability to handle a wide range of environments with ease. In short, the rotating cast of Bums are Traska stans, with our appreciation rooted in the brand’s ability to offer exceptional quality at reasonable prices, with attractive designs that harken to mid-century sport watch design without being singularly referential. With their newest model, dubbed The Chronograph, Traska has ambitiously brought those hallmarks to a higher market sector with a compelling offer.
Before getting into the watch itself, a moment on the model name. Traska sometimes gets accused of making boring watches, which I don’t agree with at all. But with this model, they have chosen a rather boring name, though not quite as lacking in creativity as the Ferrari LaFerrari. Traska has previously used simple but evocative monikers that speak to the intent of their watches – the Venturer is a traveller’s GMT, the Freediver is for diving, the Summiteer for mountaineering and other outdoor excursions, and the Commuter is a daily watch with a design for the workplace, and the capability for much more. If the Chronograph becomes a part of Traska’s permanent collection, I would like to see its nomenclature given the same treatment as the brand’s other models, with a name that evokes a sense of adventure and purpose.
To not further bury the lede, the model name is one of the only critiques I can levy at the Chronograph, as it is a remarkable watch. At 39mm wide, 45.7mm from lug to lug, and 14.1mm thick, the Chronograph wears compactly and comfortably. Note that the height measurement includes the box sapphire crystal, and is only 11.7mm from the caseback to the top of the bezel. It is not an exemplar of thinness, but Traska has designed the case and bezel in a manner that keeps the Chronograph from looking disproportionately tall, while enabling 70m of water resistance. It is one of those watches that feels right when I put it on, with an ineffable balance.
The effect of visual height is mitigated by minimizing slab-sided surfaces. The flanks of the midcase and the side surface of the bezel are the only vertical surfaces that sit at 90° when the watch is worn, and each has a relatively narrow span: 5.9mm for the case flanks and 1.7mm for the bezel’s outer rim. Everything else, including the graceful, polished chamfers that segment the case sides from its upper and lower surfaces, is a series of angled surfaces that reduce visual heft through surface breaks. The undercut surface of the bezel is a standout, as it separates the bezel from the midcase, creating negative space that removes about a millimeter of height from the bezel’s outer rim.
The profile of the horizontally brushed midcase has a graceful solidity, the grace afforded by the arcs along the outer sides of the lugs, terminating in sharp points at their lower extremities. The upper polished chamfer is inset from the outermost surface of the lugs, a visual trick that makes the outer millimeter or so of that span disappear in the shine from the polished surface. The effect also reduces the perceived width of the lugs when viewed from above. The curves along the right side of the case are accentuated by the rectangular chronograph pushers, whose polished outer surfaces curve towards the lugs. The shape provides abundant surface area for actuating the chronograph, which is managed with snappy, precise clicks.
Affixed to those lugs is a 3-link bracelet that, like any other Traska bracelet I’ve worn over the past couple of years, is well-made, lightweight, and comfortable. The finishing of the brushed upper and outer surfaces, and the polished bevels between them, is a step up from Traska’s usual high standard, befitting the increased cost of the watch. The clasp will be familiar to anyone who has owned or tried on one of the brand’s recent models, with a stout internal ratcheting extension mechanism that can be compressed while worn.
The bracelet tapers dramatically as it meets the clasp, down to 16mm from the 21mm quick-release end links, the size of which left me flummoxed. I understand that the current sizing enables a broad-shouldered appearance with the lugs pushed to the outer width of the case, but I’d prefer a more common lug width of 20mm at the expense of a likely unnoticeable inset to the lugs. As is, you’ll either have to go with slightly mis-sized aftermarket straps or buy dedicated 21mm straps, neither of which is an ideal solution. As it were, I happen to have a few 21mm straps because of the Swatch group’s affinity for the dimension, and found the Chronograph to be a perfect match for a leather bund strap.
As for the business end of the watch, Traska has taken the hallmarks of classic chronograph design and adjusted the recipe to fit their taste. At a glance, the dual-register subdials are a familiar format, but executed in an atypical fashion. Where you are used to seeing hands to indicate each subdial’s function, the Chronograph features a semi-transparent disc atop a fully-transparent spinning wheel upon which each subdial’s register is printed. The upper surface evokes the radial circular engraving of classic midcentury chronographs, with semi-elliptical apertures cut out to reveal the position of the wheel below, with precise timing indicated by dark red lines printed on the dial surface beneath the rotating transparent disc. I found the red lines difficult to read at times, but you can still tell the current indication of each subdial by their position relative to the 3 and 9 positions on the dial.
The arrangement is a creative deviation from the expected, somewhat similar to Isotope’s Moonshot chronograph, but with a different method focused more on balance than precision. With the Moonshot, the upper discs rotate and limit the field of view for each register to a tight range around its current reading. The Chronograph is slightly less easy to read in comparison, but it avoids the unbalanced appearance that afflicts many chronographs when their hands are splayed in different directions.
The rest of the dial, by comparison, is a simple affair. Applied bar markers for most of the hours, doubled at noon, and baton hands for the primary hours and minutes are deeply familiar, but their simplicity is needed to balance the subdials’ complexity. The circular date window at 6 first entered Traska’s lineup with the Freediver, and is more fitting on The Chronograph, where its shape echoes that of the subdials. The lume on the hour markers, hour, and minute hand is milder than I’m used to from Traska’s other watches, but is more than sufficient to enable low-light reading of the current time to the minute.
Color selection has long been a strength of Traska’s, and the grey shade used on the dial and bezel insert follows in that tradition. It is a warm tone with a soft finish – satin on the bezel, and a subtly textured eggshell on the dial – that is decidedly modern, particularly with the dark red contrast of the chronograph second hand. The bezel, in particular, calls to mind Michael Graves’ postmodernist design, with thin and precise printing atop the soft metal surface of the insert. The metal used for the insert is another twist, as Traska opted for Tungsten, which I cannot recall seeing on another watch. Knowing how hard tungsten is, its use here creates a great balance of the warmth of metal and the durability of ceramic.
The tachymeter scale is another departure from the chronograph norm, as it trades the more common 60-to-500 scale for a 50-to-200 measurement. The switch is to focus measurement on a lower range of speed, anything traveling below 200 units (kph or mph), and to allow more specific measurement within that range. I understand the reasoning, as most folks won’t have the occasion to time anything traveling at even half the Chronograph’s range, let alone more than double its potential. That said, there are some detractors, particularly a self-proclaimed grouchy fellow watch nerd and friend, who informed me that the scale is useless for its first 15 seconds, since it doesn’t begin measuring until the 200 mark, around 18 seconds of the chronograph secondhand’s travel. Admittedly, I am more appreciative of a tachymeter’s visual intrigue than its utility, so I have no practical position on the matter.
Powering the Chronograph, and its chronograph functions, is the Seiko NE86, a column-wheel automatic chronograph movement with a vertical clutch and 45 hours of power reserve. The NE86 has been less popular among independent brands than I anticipated it would be when it first launched. It is slightly thinner than the more prevalent Sellita SW500 series – 7.62mm to 7.9mm – and hails from a brand known for movement reliability. Presumably, a combination of manufacturer-limited supply and the popularity of the Seagull ST1901 has contributed to its infrequent use. I’m happy to see the NE86 used here, as it offers a solid combination of reliability and advanced mechanics.
This is a rare occasion when I note the packaging a watch comes in, because the packaging for the Chronograph, like the watch itself, signals a step change for Traska. Since their inception, Traska has shipped watches in an elongated leather travel pouch, eventually adding a branded cardboard box to house the case during shipping. The pouches were nicely made and prioritized function, but were not particularly elegant for displaying your watch. Not a problem, but a more utilitarian arrangement than a celebratory one. The Chronograph, on the other hand, comes nestled in a single-slot leather watch roll for transport and display. The presentation is the type of grandeur one would expect for a $1,650 watch, while keeping the utility that Traska prioritizes. Yes, it trades some practicality for theatricality, considering it will take up quite a bit of space in luggage for a single watch, but like the Chronograph itself, the leather roll demonstrates the thoroughness of Traska’s ambition to be a strong contender in a market space above what the brand has previously pursued.
Traska spent years refining its lineup, tinkering with each model to arrive at subtle, sometimes unseen tweaks. It was a methodical foundation-building, illustrative of founder Jon Mack’s ineluctable pursuit of perfection, but an approach that left Traska fans without a truly new model to get excited about. In that context, the Chronograph is a fireworks display of advancement, not only because it is a new model, but because it elevates Traska’s market position ambitions. Where the brand has been accused of being too safe with its designs, the details of the Chronograph, particularly the execution of its chronograph function, are inventive and playful. If this is the beginning of Traska’s quirky art school era, consider me excited for what is to come.
The Traska Chronograph is available directly from the brand.
