The Wood Cutting Adventure

It’s that time again, folks!  The time when all good Lumberjacks scurry to gather enough wood for the winter so they can heat their homes.

Have you been wondering why I call myself the Lumberjack’s wife?  Do you think I am crazy because my husband isn’t a lumberjack at all?

You are not alone.

He is not a Lumberjack.  He is, in fact, an electrician.  But he really likes to go wood cutting.  And build things.  And go hunting.  And go camping.  And raise pigs.  And raise rabbits.  And raise chickens.  And, most recently, raise horses.

He’s a busy guy.

We have been married for 13 years and I have gone wood cutting with him once.  It was a disaster of epic proportions.  My parents watched the girls for us (Yes!  Once upon a time, we only had two little girls!  Imagine that!?!).  We went up into the mountains and loaded our truck up with wood.

Tamarack!  For that is my Lumberjack’s firewood of choice.

On the way home, David saw a deer.  This might not seem like that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.  But seeing wild game gives life to David’s bones.  So, we followed this deer up into the mountains.

This was all in February of 2005.  There was no snow on the roads where we were cutting wood.  But, alas, the further we climbed, the snowier it got.

The snow was deep.

The danger was great.

But follow the deer we did.

And we followed that deer until our truck was stuck in the snow.  Completely and utterly stuck.

So we had to hike down the mountain 10.2 miles with our dog, Mabel, following faithfully behind.  We had no phone service, so our families were quite worried about us and we caused some stress.  We had to wait about 2 1/2 hours for our rescue team and there was only one place to go in this small town filled with about 200 people.

The local bar.

We were filthy dirty.  But we cared not.  We tied our dog outside the bar and went on in.  Because that is what classy folks, such as ourselves, do.

So that was the only time I had gone wood cutting with my beloved.

Until yesterday.

My parents, bless their hearts, took all four kids overnight on Friday and we assured them we would pick up our little angels by 1 or 2pm.  David and I woke up at 3:45am so we could head off into the mountains.  We took our truck and a trailer in hopes of filling it with 3 cords.

Tamarack!  We were looking for tamarack!

I saw several of these nicely stacked piles of logs on the side of the road, but my husband would hear none of it.

Because they were not tamarack.  He is such a picky-pants.

We finally found a dead piece of tamarack on the ground, cut it up, and loaded it into the truck, but we still had half of the truck and the entire trailer to fill.

So we kept driving around.  David would say stuff like,

“See those two tall trees over there?”

And I would try.  Really, I would.

But, seriously.

I would just say, “Oh, yeah!  I think so.”

And he would tell me how his friend shot a moose right between those two, specific trees.

And I am wondering how it took him 8 years to learn my birth date.

(Side note:  Do we not live in the most beautiful area of the world? I ask you?)

Anyways.  We are driving, driving, driving.  Looking for Tamarack.  And I am pretending to know how to identify a tamarack.  But, well, have you met me?

And then he finds it.

I know.  I can’t see it either.

But for those of you who are smart with such things, it is the one that looks dead (because it is) in the middle-ish.

So, we have to cut it down.  I removed myself to a safe distance and took some photos for your viewing pleasure.

You’re welcome.

I even added a large, blue arrow so you could see just which tree I was talking about.

Just in case you didn’t notice it.  It’s a blue arrow.  Pointing at the tree I am speaking of.

Look at me with my big-girl-photo-enhancing-pants on!  Holla!

Ok.  So, here we go.

Wait for it . . .

Wait for it . . .

And-

Bam.  Nailed it.

Look at my husband, felling trees like it ain’t no thang.

And it didn’t even crush the truck or anything.

So, now we have this enormous tree that we must cut down into smaller sections and pull them down the hillside.  David cut the tree and then hooked a chain around the small sections.  He attaches the chain to the front of his truck and then he pulls the tree down with his truck.

My husband is all that is man.

 

And we wonder why our truck oft breaks down?

So, while David worked on getting all the sections of the tree down, I got to work on measuring out lengths on the logs so he would know where to make the cuts.

Wood Cutting 101: You first cut the tree into rounds.  Then you split it into logs.  Consider yourselves informed.

The size of the rounds will be important later on because if the logs are too long, they won’t fit into the wood stove.

Ask me how I know.

So, I would measure off 16-18 inches and make a mark with that little axe-doo-hickey-thingie-ma-bob there.  And I am pretty sure that was just busy work, seeing as how he could have just screwed that ruler onto the chainsaw and done it all at once.

But what did I care?  I had nothing else to do.

Oh, I did the world’s worst job with it ever.  Seriously.  I cannot aim that ax worth a dime.

Spray paint would have been the smarter choice.  Or having him actually screw the ruler onto the chainsaw.

Either way.

So, David got to work making the cuts when tragedy befell us.

Both of his chainsaws broke.  That’s right.  BOTH.

He spent about 45 minutes taking them apart, but they were beyond his expertise.  So we had to try and roll all of our precious tamarack off the road.

Which was not as easy as you might think.

Trees.  Heavy.

Defeated and discouraged, we got into our truck with only 3/4 of a cord of wood.  It was an epic wood cutting failure.

But, wait!  There’s more!

As we were coming down the mountain, the steering on David’s truck went all crazy like.  Apparently something called a tie-rod was bent or broken or, well, I don’t know.  But it was not an ideal sitch.

David:  Yeah.  We are going to be late.

Me:  Oh, really?

David:  Truck is going to break down.

Me:  What’s wrong?

David:  Steering problems.

Me:  Are you going to, like, lose control at some point?

David:  Maybe.

He is always so reassuring.

So, we were about 40 miles from a phone service and a town.  David did not think the truck would make it to town and we would probably have to ditch the truck and hitch a ride into cell service.

Which sounded super safe and enjoyable.

But the truck kept going.  The tires were making some odd screeching noises.  But it kept going.  We had to drive about 25 miles an hour the entire way, but we made it.

Now, this town is nowhere close to where my parents/children are, so my poor parents had to keep the kids extra long while we waited for our truck to get repaired.

And while we were there, Charlie, one of the mechanics, noticed our nice load of Tamarack.

Tamarack!

Charlie:  Nice load of wood you got there!

David:  Thanks.

Charlie:  I haven’t been able to find tamarack this year.

Then Charlie was basically hinting that he wanted to buy it from us.  And I was like, no way Jose.  That is the most expensive 3/4th of a cord of wood known to man.

Plus it is TAMARACK.  And in case you haven’t heard, it’s all the rage.

David is anxious to get his chainsaw returned so we could head back up and get our precious tamarack that we had to foolishly leave on the roadside.

We must get there before Charlie the mechanic does.

And then when our truck breaks down again on the way home, and we all know it will, we can gloat to Charlie.

Tamarack!

Raise your hand if you think we actually save ANY money by heating with wood.

Mmmm-hmmmm.

Later, gators.