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My Life Among the Trees !! |
My Life Among the Trees at 170
Old Plainfield Pike, or
Becoming an Arborist is No Simple Task
A year or two ago, and if you talk to Bill at all he’s probably already told you, I went by Bill’s place to help him with his forestry project on his land in Foster. While he felled towering oaks and monstrous pines my job was to take my trusty Stihl 170M chainsaw and cut twenty-four inch logs for eventual splitting for the Haus hozen towers and eventually to be burned for heat in the Jodl stove in Billy’s living room during some future very frigid winter.
When Bill came over to look at my handiwork he smiled and said, “Joey those are short. I said two feet, those are more like… well they’re all-different lengths but most of them are too short.” I frowned a bit and said something like, “They’ll still burn, right?” He smiled again and said, “Yeah but they will burn faster,” and he then explained how the wood burns, the details of which I don’t remember, and that the stove works best when the split wood is twenty-four inches.
In later conversations he told me about when Joanie saw the short pieces in the wood box and asked Bill why the pieces were so short. Bill mentioned to her then about my work in the back yard, and Joanie now calls any shorts that appear in the wood box as “Joey Wood”. I’m famous at last.
But that was then, and this is now. Over the past few months I have gone back to the scene of the crime and once again offered my help which Bill graciously received. Along the way I have also been blessed to gain some training in the fine art of safely using a chain saw. In my experience Bill is a great teacher. He gives just enough detail so you can learn, test and succeed, but he also walks away and lets you practice and gain confidence on your own.
Here's an example. As I was attacking an already felled tree my saw’s bar got stuck a couple of times as it was pinched in the kerf. The weight of the tree, and the leverage of that weight closed the kerf rather than opening it. “Watch the kerf, Joey. As soon as you see it start to pinch pull the saw straight out.” Then came the epiphany as Bill added, “You can then cut the log from the bottom up. Just pull the saw through. It doesn’t make any difference, top or bottom it’s the same.”
It never dawned on me that pulling from the bottom up was even an option. With experience and a good coach I was learning how to do something I always wanted to do but never felt comfortable trying. Just like my motorcycle experience since joining OSBMWR. Interesting.
As my training lessons continued a month or so went by and I was now going to cut down some trees with the blue mark. The blue mark was sprayed on the tree by the official forester designated as “cut it down”. The ultimate idea was to make the acreage behind the house more hospitable to birds and wildlife that call this area home. There’s more to it than that but cutting the trees was an important part of the plan.
Bill pointed out three marked trees he wanted me to cut and then he walked off to do his thing in another area of the woods. I approached each tree with my lessons in mind. What way would it naturally fall? If possible, that’s how I would make my cuts. Would the top branches of the falling tree get hung up in another tree in the fall zone, or would it damage a smaller tree, one that needed to remain uncut, as it crashed to earth? Would the fallen trunk be accessible by the tractor to harvest the wood? It took me about a half-an hour to cut the three trees, trim off the top branches, and cut each trunk into eight-foot logs. To say the least I was having fun, helping my friend with his project, and feeling like I was a success. My confidence was soaring. But that was about to change.
Bill came over and we picked five more blue marked trees a little further towards the back of the property. I went back to work and Bill went back as well. I started with the tree furthest away. Good first choice. Next, I lined up my first cut for the notch that would be the front of the hinge. I looked up to the treetop again before I started cutting and lined up the direction for the fall. I sawed a straight cut about one-third through the trunk, then a diagonal cut down, and then kicked out the small wedge of wood. Perfect!
I stepped back to look at my handiwork but felt a bit puzzled. Something was wrong. As I pondered my previous steps, and doing a quick reassessment, it hit me. I had made the notch on the wrong side of the trunk. Doooooo! How could I make such an elemental error? Then, unfortunately, I made my second mistake; I went on to the next tree in line. I figured Bill would have a better solution for disaster #1.
The next tree was a little larger than the first and had a large stone wedged next to the base of the trunk. This time I cut the notch correctly. Stepping back to take a quick reassessment all looked good to go. I started to cut the straight felling cut, but to my surprise and consternation, the tree decided to start tipping not towards the notch/hinge side but back toward my saw. As the kerf started to close I pulled the saw out of the cut just in time, and stepped back again. Everything seemed right but the tree wasn’t cooperating. Bill would be able to figure it out.
I could stretch this out with several more paragraphs of suffering and pain but I will spare you all of that. Over the next ten minutes two more of the assigned trees were assaulted but not felled. I thought about the fifth and wisely (instead) sought out my mentor.
Bill came over and patiently went over the woulda-shoulda-coulda, and then made the cuts to remedy the situation. Three trees came down and one was left for the following session.
Of course, I was discouraged by my abject failure but have since gone back to the woods and made up for these previous loses. Like I often tell Bill, “I just want to help.”
How does this pertain to our motorcycle club? It’s all about friendship and the lasting impact of those relationships. I long time ago on a Saturday morning I was getting my K75s inspected at RAZEE and a couple of guys were putting a bike on a trailer. The guy in charge came over and commented on what a beautiful bike it was. I stuck out my hand and said, “Thanks, my name is Joe.” He kindly responded and said, “Hi, my name is Carl.” Yes it was my first encounter with Carl Saccoccio. Now I am typically at RAZEE on Saturday mornings visiting with friends and enjoying the pleasure of looking at new MOTO additions to the showroom floor.
I have been privileged to meet and get to know many more of the men and women who ride BMW (and other) motorcycles as a regular and important part of their lives. I have been blessed to go on many longer distance trips and to hear some fun and adventurous stories, and to even tell a few of my own.
The 2023 season is about to begin and we already have some plans in the making for this year and next. Be sure to reach out, get connected and join in, because after all the journey is the destination.
Joey T.