The Milling Process

Here's another one of my non-political sustainable forestry/small scale milling posts for your possible interest. This is really the nickel tour as I don't show many small steps - like the fun of getting the log onto the mill.

Let's just say this post is a time capsule for my future relations to look back on a simpler time. My time traveling kin may see how old Grandpa Bill turned logs into lumber while the future is all busy zooming around planetoids in silver space suits.

In winter, I use a snowmobile and cargo sled to skid logs
out of woods. With the snow melted, I use a slightly more difficult
way to move log.

I lift the log onto the back of the ATV wagon and strap it down.
This is not the best thing to do for my spine, but I prefer it to
using a skid chain. In future I'll use something called a 'log arch'.

Ta-da! I've made it to the log landing at the mill yard.
Then I simply unstrap the log, and roll it onto the pile.
It's important not to get body parts crushed doing this.

Moving right along, I've got a log up on the bandsaw mill and
start to cut bark slabs off the log in order to make a four-sided
piece of lumber called a 'cant'.

It's important to select straight logs for milling.
While this appears to be a straight log, notice the
indent in the middle of the log after the first cut.

Here's the Before photo of a straight-ish log secured on the
mill 'bunks'. Even with the straightest log, it will loose about
four inches from the diameter of the smallest end.

Now the After photo of the same log cut into a cant. That's a big
loss of wood. Only now can I cut one inch planks with little or
no bark. Notice the pile of cut-off slabs thrown from the mill.

Sad for me to look at this. It can be cut up into firewood. I use the
sawdust to help breakdown compost. Nothing is wasted
when wood is my stove fuel. Though I wish it were lumber.

Here's the rough sawn sugar maple lumber.
I set them up in book-matched pairs then will
separate them on levels to air-dry. The drying
and kilning process is another thing altogether.

Springy-Winter Seguin

It was a nice day to be working outside. Damp snow and warm sun.

Here's a few photos...

Close up of an icicle.

The big poplar log arrives at the mill yard for campaign

signage. More poplar to come.

Campaign Signs

I've decided to try out a campaign signage idea - wooden signs. Don't like the plastic thing for this one.

Wooden signs are in keeping with my sustainable forestry pastime and a bit original for creativity. We'll see how it goes. Build a policy platform out of a bunch of planks, eh? Hand painted? Why not.

So, today I zoomed over to a poplar colony along a southern ridge of Deerwood, and dropped some standing deadwood.

Now all I have to do is skid and mill the logs, dry, paint, then place the plank signs. Piece a cake.

Dead. See?

The bigger they come, the harder they are to skid.
Glad to see the chainsaw's back to business.

Interesting fungal activity in this log. Tempted
to mill it into slabs for furniture....

The hollowed trunk on this tree makes for a
suspenseful drop.

Suspense over.

Mucho Macho

This is the obligatory post where the candidate shows how big and strong like bull he is. I don't know why I have to do it, but The Committee to Elect Bill Pocock says I have to.

So, here' s a couple photos from my forestry blog, HICKWILLY, demonstrating my prowess flipping maple logs end over end. Kind of like caber tossing, but more likely to get me landed in the Emergency Room.

A Funny Foley Lumberjack Story

It's bigger on the inside.

Here's a good story about a lumberman who drove logs down Boyne River to Parry Sound for the Conger Lumber Company. The last river run was in 1904.

The men used to stay in the camps logging all winter, then in the spring they would go on the drive. Abbie Bennett used to be quite a famous river driver. After a winter in the bush, washing their clothes in an old wooden tub, come spring, Abbie docked his pants and drawers at the knees so when they got wet they wouldn't trip him and by the time he got to Parry Harbour his shirt and pants would stand alone, they were so dirty with pine pitch. Abbie stopped at the Kipling to see his friends then he high-tailed it up to the Queen's Hotel. Coming back down the street he met two very dignified ladies in the persons of Mrs. Pearce, the local merchant's with, and Miss Ellis, her sister, a dedicated school teacher. They stopped to talk to Abbie and noting his very dirty shirt they asked Mr. Bennett how long he wore his shirt? "Well," said Abbie, grinning at them with his one squinty eye, "If you really want to know, about two inches below my ass." (You, Me, and Foley, by Bertha Clare, P.85)