(Yes, today’s header image is a crotch shot. It’s from Sunday. Good times.)
Before I get into the meat (or the wood) of today’s post, I want to express my gratitude to those who’ve messaged and called recently to check on me. The underlying reason is the same each time — to make sure that I’m “okay,” considering that I’m spending my first Christmas alone (or at least unmarried) since 2004.
I’m more than “okay.” Life is better now, this way, than it’s been in 20 years, and so are the holidays.
I won’t be decorating or partying or hosting or visiting. This’ll be my Christmas, my way. It’s a lead-pipe cinch that it’ll bear no resemblance to what you and yours will be doing.
Maybe I’ll tell you about it. Maybe I won’t. But rest assured that I’m in a great place in all the ways that matter.
My celebration begins today. Merry Christmas.
Still anxious to finish the final stretch of the trail to the east slope, I’ve committed to getting the first section right before moving on. Saturday’s trial run exposed that it was too narrow, and I want to correct that first.
Monday morning I brought the Ranger to the midpoint of the trail-in-progress, parked it and began walking back and forth, lopping and felling as I went. A couple of the small trees I dropped were substantial enough to buck for firewood. Those lengths got tossed into the bed.
Satisfied that the side-by-side buggy now has adequate side-to-side clearance, I turned my attention to offending rocks in the middle of the trail — and just as quickly, I decided against doing anything about them yesterday. I intend to build up around them with other rocks and dirt, but not this day.
I grabbed my tools and walked back toward the Ranger. Looking upslope, I spied this wind-downed oak crown:
It was maybe 20 yards off the trail. I judged it worth investigating.
Turns out this downed crown was in better shape than the tree that disappointed me on Saturday. I cut into it, starting with the upper branches — there was some pith, sure, and a little rot here and there, but I found the big stuff to be gratifyingly solid. I bucked twenty good lengths from it, which took six trips to hand-carry down the rocky grade to the Ranger.
That’s a pretty steep and rugged patch of ground, and the effort had me huffing and puffing. I took a break before picking up the fourth armload, using the time to survey the woods around me.
And that’s when I spotted The Mother Lode.
You’re looking at a mature black oak, I believe, standing dead, every bit of 60 feet tall. It appears to have succumbed to bark beetles, as evidenced by the galleries on the now-bare trunk. The bark it shed (pictured, below) piled up on the ground around the base, and it hasn’t been there very long.
That, and the fact that the trunk hasn’t yet turned completely gray, promises a solid harvest of high-BTU fuel for the woodstove. It’ll heat the cabin for weeks.
The tree stands about 30 yards off the trail. I recorded its location with a waypoint pin in Gaia, and I’ll come back to it before this winter’s out. I’ll probably enlist Jeff’s experience and help, for safety’s sake.
The morning’s work filled the bed of the Ranger — I’d gathered almost enough to necessitate a second trip but made it happen in one. Back at the yard, I added the wood to next winter’s stores.
Some of the bigger chunks I split right then and there, because it made for easier stacking and, quite frankly, because I wanted to swing the ax.
But the best part? This:
I’d hauled back just enough to top-off the third pallet seasoning for 2026-2027. That’s roughly a cord in all. Later this week, I expect, I’ll start a fresh pallet and my second cord.
For the record, I probably won’t be back in the woods for a few days, at least not foraging for firewood or working on the trail. I took a hard fall yesterday, about halfway through the work.
(That means I rubbed a little dirt on it and stayed in the game ’til I finished.)
I was making my sixth and last trip downslope with an armload of bucked wood when my boot caught a vine and I went down. Before tumbling, I landed on my bum right knee — on a rock, of course. Bruised. Swollen. Painful.
But no breaks, dislocations or displacements. I’m fine overall. I’ll find a way to be productive while the knee heals.
It’s great to be here.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable