Thursday I alluded to how indispensable our Polaris Ranger is to us. Call it a UTV, a side-by-side, a woods buggy or whatever, every day it reminds us that when it comes to gettin’ shit done on The Mountain, we’d be scratchin’ without it.
The thing totes tools, firewood, rocks, trash, 500-pound barrels of water, picnic fixins, deer corn, dogs and us and more. It’s a rolling workshop and a mobile workbench. If something (or a bunch of somethings) has to get from here to there on the property, choosing the Ranger over my SilverSilverado always is more efficient (and usually a lot more fun).
It clawed its way up to the summit in deep (for Ozarkansas) snow, and it breaks trails in these dense woods without complaint. When we moved our shed up from Deb’s cousin’s place, we used the Ranger’s winch to help coax it onto a trailer. Though we haven’t pressed the hitch into service all that much, it’ll pull 1,500 pounds of whatever we have in mind.
Our intrepid Ranger is four years old now. We’ve owned it just shy of two. It’s been washed exactly once.
It probably needs an oil change and the chassis lubed.
I can’t say enough good things about it or our decision to buy it from a neighbor one December day. Of the investments we’ve made to support our new American Life on The Mountain, this Ranger tops the list.
I knew I had a lot of work ahead of me on Friday. I also suspected that the clearing I’d planned — yes, more of the same — couldn’t be accomplished in a single day. Plus, it included a little side project that probably would extend it to three days or longer.
Northwest of The Amphitheater, between the cabin and the picnic table, are two outcrops of ledge that we’ve been wanting to highlight — not expose them completely, just subtly bring them out and make them more present. That’s where I began yesterday morning, methodically working my way around the fringe of the homesite toward the picnic table.
It was far more involved than I’d anticipated. In some places I was thinning out the understory 50 feet into the woods. And not only did I need to remove the debris that I cut, but there was brush and downed trees on the ground from excavating the homesite, and a ton of fallen stuff that had been laying there for decades.
I moved the brushy mess out to the edges, creating temporary piles to be disposed of later.
(I did save a couple more chunks from trees we’d tagged with bright yellow tape almost two years ago. I’m a sentimental old fool, see.)
After that round of cutting and clearing was done, I sat down at the picnic table, my energy flagging and my bones aching. I wanted to keep going, but I needed an infusion of motivation.
I had to stay interested in order to keep going. That’s when I brought the aforementioned “side project” into play.
We still don’t have a fire pit on The Mountain. Eventually we’ll have three or four, but the first one, we figured, oughta be fairly close to the homesite, maybe in the woods behind the picnic table. We had a couple of ideas.
I grabbed loppers and a chainsaw and began clearing a trail to a spot 20 yards in. For a variety of reasons, that location turned out to be unsuitable, so I backtracked and pressed northeast a ways.
Past a massive old-growth cedar and an equally ancient oak, I came upon what I judged to be a great site — not a true clearing, really, but a circular area with a dozen smallish trees and a high canopy.
It’s as flat a place as we’ll find on The Mountain. And it’s a 50-yard walk from the picnic table. It’ll do.
Deb had joined me by that point, and she approved. We took down the small trees and lopped overhanging branches, stuffing the debris into the woods off the edge of the site. We set aside and stacked several sturdy six-foot lengths to be used for firewood.
We still have a lot of work to do, of course, before we can relax there in front of a crackling fire — drag back leaves and duff and get down to bare dirt, bring in a few bags of pea gravel as a base, gather and place rocks to form the fire ring itself.
This is a good start.
Sitting out by the RV afterward, I stared at the mounds of debris I’d produced earlier. My day’s work wasn’t done just yet.
I decided to pile about half the trimmings near The Amphitheater, soon to be burned on the rocks up behind the cabin. The rest I’d move to the big brushpile down by the road.
This would be a job for the truck. Capable as the Ranger is, I wanted to make only one trip.
It was a huge, absolutely cartoonish load, but it made it 200 feet to the brushpile. I unloaded, parked the truck, stowed my gear and collapsed into a chair.
Nine hours after I started, it was done.
Well, sort of — I still have to deal with a short stretch along the north end of the driveway. Though it’ll be nothing compared to what I did yesterday, I’m putting it off for a day or two while I recover.
(Yesterday’s sunset, captured by Deb.)
The “good tired” I felt when I woke up today was accompanied by pain-wracked joints and muscles. I willed myself out of bed, leashed Miss Smudge and stepped outside.
Immediately my aches disappeared.
Directly in front of me was the product of yesterday’s labor. Those intriguing rock formations now were visible, bathed in early morning light. That swath of woods was tidy and more open, yet it still looked natural. I could see the foot of the path I’d cut to the fire pit, beckoning.
A sense of accomplishment damped discomfort, if only briefly.
My goals for today were modest and unambitious. First up was a trip to Marion County Feed & Farm — they’re having what they call “Corny Saturdays” all this month, the highlight of which is 50-pound bags of deer corn for eight bucks apiece. I bought two bags, then drove on to Miller Hardware for a galvanized-steel trash can to hold them.
When I was a kid, before the days of cheap plastic garbage cans, all we ever had was steel. They were practically indestructible, and they worked great to keep pests out of dog food and sweet feed. We now have five on The Mountain — two for trash and three for seed and feed.
While I was out, I stopped to catch up with a neighbor who’d just returned from visiting family in the Midwest. On the way Home, I saw that some folks out on the county road were having a garage sale — good visit, plus a four-foot T-square and a seed spreader (three bucks total).
Deb and I saddled up the Ranger later and fetched a barrel of water at her cousin’s well. We had a good chat with him and his girlfriend.
Other than that — and a long shower — I spent my Saturday with my feet up.
I feel like I’d earned the privilege.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB