A Good 'ol Craigslist Adventure

When you get a text message asking if you want to go cut up a tree, you shouldn't really think too hard about it. The only real response should be; "Gas up the saws, boys, it's adventure time." Now, I guess to preface this adventure and to explain why I was so hyped about it, I should say that my friend and I have been searching all summer for a tree to cut up and split. I couldn't really explain why though. I think it simply boils down to the desire to play with chainsaws, swing axes, and feel like a real goddamn lumberjack. In the end, doesn't everyone want to feel like a lumberjack? No? Explain the resurgence of flannel then. That's what I thought. Anyways, I grabbed my trusty Stihl MS-310 chainsaw, a ziplock back of shitty but useable chains, a forestry axe, a Nalgene full of water and hopped in the truck. I was off to Norfolk to meet up with my buddy so we could run this chainsaw through some lumber on a random undeveloped parcel of land in a very nice subdivision.

Taking a break. This guy was so thirsty, he was eyeballing a random half full Gatorade that someone abandoned on the lot.

The first order of business was to cut the twenty foot trunk in to manageable rounds. This feat is easier said than done. It took a few tanks of gas, a couple of sessions of file sharpening the blade, and an electric winch to finally subdue the nefarious gum trunk. Also, sidenote, cutting a 20" trunk with an 18" bar is not as easy as it sounds. Especially when you cut from the top, roll the trunk to finish the cut, and the two cuts never line up. I blame the saw. My calibrated eye never steers me wrong. Never. Had to be mechanical failure of some sort.

Rotating the tree with the winch

After all the hooplah, I can tell you with utmost certainty that the funnest part of being a lumber jack is running the saw. Splitting rounds with a maul is for the birds, man. Also, when you don't have the equipment to split 20" rounds, you have to get the rounds into the back of your truck. And when your truck is pointlessly lifted, it is very hard to get them into the truck. However, being the badasses that we are, we got that shit done. You never realize how heavy a tree is until you have it cut into segments and loaded into a truck. My truck has a payload capacity of 1.25 tons. I think my springs touched the frame today. Not good. Not good at all. All in all, I would call this adventure Great Success. One more thing to cross off the bucket list. But next time, we are gonna up the ante. I am gonna bring a tree down. That is the Holy Grail of lumberjacking. Mark my words, readers: I am going to fell a tree if it's the last thing I do. Hopefully it won't end up being the last thing I do.

Loaded up. Super sketchy. I don't think I've ever maxed out the suspension on this truck before.

That's a good angle for truck right? Looks fast, like it's gonna take off like a fucking rocketship. 

P.S. I just realized that this adventure isn't even over. I have a truck full of wood that needs to be split, stacked, and dried. Goddammit. Anyone want to split some wood? It's fun as shit. I'd go so far as to say it's even more fun than whitewashing a fence. Seriously. Grab an axe and come on down, we'll make it a party. All the water you can drink, too! Right out of the garden hose!

Random Acts of Manliness: The Ax Purchase

Few things in this world are as viscerally satisfying as swinging an ax. I know this because after twenty seven years of idiocy, I finally broke down and bought an ax. Why? Shit, I don't know. But for some reason, for the first time in my life, I suddenly became aware of my complete lack of axery. To me, this was just further evidence of the disconnect that my generation has with all generations prior. Go back just a few decades and you will realize that for households past, an ax wasn't a luxury or a novelty, it was a life necessity. Go back a few centuries, and you will realize that a man without an ax was essentially a dead motherfucker. Part tool, part weapon, full friend and confidant, an ax was essential to early man's life and without it, shelter, fire, and safety were not an option. Fast forward to today, and an ax is about as necessary to daily life as hen's teeth. But, as I held that hickory handle in my hands for the first time, a wave of memories from my past lives of manliness came flooding through me and as I swung and struck that first blow into an oak stump, I knew that this just felt right. I pictured bad-ass dudes in flannel and suspenders clear cutting forests in the North West with nothing but their trusty axes and satchels full of flap-jacks to provide daily nourishment*. Then I pictured plainsmen settling homesteads, cutting down logs and notching felled timbers to assemble log cabins, structures which would stand as a testament to manliness and craftsmanship long after the builder was dead and buried and his ax had rusted away into oblivion. Last I pictured a sea of angry Norsemen, gone berserk on 'shrooms and Meade, axing their way to glorious victory or dying the most honorable death at the hands of another crazed ax-man and passing on to the Halls of Valhalla. Through my ax, I would continue this saga, even if my contribution was minimal. At the very least, as I lie upon my death bed, I can whisper to my survivors "remember that time I bought an ax and chopped a chunk out of that oak stump? Yeah, I know, it was bad-ass."

*The historical accuracy of lumberjacks carrying satchels full of flapjacks could not be verified. This may or may not be a glitch in my memory, whereby I mixed chunks of Paul Bunyan with actual historical knowledge.