Longing for more self-sufficiency and lamenting the fact that all I do is fish and dream about skiing, The Wife announced that we would collect our own firewood. Recognizing my place, I immediately agreed. Besides, there's no better way to get in touch with your inner redneck than to tromp around the woods with a chainsaw.
Veterans Day provided our most immediate opportunity to get out. With the clock ticking, The Wife bartered home-made mustard for the use of our neighbor's chainsaw, we procured a personal use firewood permit from the Forest Service, convinced Russ to lend a hand and were off.
It had snowed the night before but, with an abundance of dead or down trees around Wyoming, finding a suitable place to collect wood took little effort.
As it turns out, one medium-sized tree is more than enough to fill our small truck. However, our borrowed saw left a bit to be desired. It fired up easily but soon became a constant battle. We tried a couple different chains, played with the carburetor a bit, and engaged in an epic struggle with an uncooperative clutch mechanism. 
I took a go at it, but ultimately, it got so futile that the down force caused by the weight of the saw was sufficient to cause the chain to completely stop while sawing. Ridiculous.
Despite the fact that a Leatherman might have been quicker than our saw, the day was a success and we managed to fill the truck.
2 comments:
Are those mountain pine beetle-killed lodgepole pine? I imagine that is all that's left in your part of the world.
You nailed it. We've got 'em thick up here--the beetles that is. Our trees (lodgepole and ponderosa) are a bit few and far between by my standards.
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