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January 22nd, 2015 by Dave Mance III Notes from the Editor

A Glorious January Day

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If you were to describe deep, January cold to someone who’d never experienced it before, you might point out that you can hear it. Get below zero and the snow starts to squeak under foot. Your truck door protests when you open it, not to mention the engine as you turn the key. In the forest the trees occasionally pop like gunshots. As the temperature drops, the soundscape gets louder and more intense.

Dad and I have been logging the past few weekends, and I particularly enjoyed last Saturday morning for the deep cold. Temperatures were around -10 as we headed out to the job, and just about everything was noisy. Even the harsh light was noisy. We fortified ourselves with hot coffee and then fortified the old Timberjack with an anti-coagulant and some ether mist. It roared to life, then sputtered for about 15 minutes before it started to breathe easy.

One of the poetic things about engines is that they hate to start in the cold, but then once they’re going, they purr. The cold, dense air makes them powerful. It’s the same for most of us Northeasterners, I think.

I snapped a few pictures and figured I’d share them here; an homage to the working landscape and a glorious January day.

Logging Photo Essay Gallery

Skidder coffee.
Skidder coffee. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Walking into the job through low-angled morning light.
Walking into the job through low-angled morning light. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Dragging the skidder cable is a chore in the summer; in the winter it’s a welcome excuse to get the heart pumping.
Dragging the skidder cable is a chore in the summer; in the winter it’s a welcome excuse to get the heart pumping. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Setting a choker.
Setting a choker. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Sunburst through cold.
Sunburst through cold. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
A morning hitch.
A morning hitch. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Plume of sawdust, plume of breath.
Plume of sawdust, plume of breath. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Using a makeshift striped maple mallet to pound in a wedge.
Using a makeshift striped maple mallet to pound in a wedge. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
The pregnant moment before “Timber!”
The pregnant moment before “Timber!” | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Everything going right.
Everything going right. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Sometimes when editors play logger, the trees don’t fall where they’re supposed to fall. The skidder, in this case, bailed me out.
Sometimes when editors play logger, the trees don’t fall where they’re supposed to fall. The skidder, in this case, bailed me out. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
A limbed top free of its branches. The woods smelled like Christmas and bar and chain oil and cold.
A limbed top free of its branches. The woods smelled like Christmas and bar and chain oil and cold. | Photo: Northern Woodlands
Bucking on the landing as the daylight starts to wane.
Bucking on the landing as the daylight starts to wane. | Photo: Northern Woodlands

by Dave Mance III

© by the author; this article may not be copied or reproduced without the author's consent.

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Discussion *

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Jan 23, 2015

I do love old skidders with Detroit diesels. This cold dry winter air is the best to be cutting and skidding wood in. As you say after the reluctant start these old machines just purr and keep on going. Woods work is ideal in my mind at +20 but it takes below zero to keep skid roads hard and free of mud. I use chain chockers too kinda old school but I like them.

Richard Marr

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