I made 2 trips to the gym this weekend. I have come to the conclusion that finding easy firewood is a rare thing.
Yesterday's--close to home, on a sunny hillside, not far to pack, but a beast to split.
Here's an unflattering picture of The Used Dog. He didn't have his usual happy face on.
Todays spot. A rockpit not far at all to pack or toss the wood to the pickup.
Mostly alder, easy to split and cut. The bad? It was in a rockpit and was put there along with slide debris. There were hidden rocks amongst it! The Barbie Saw's chain had to be filed 4 times! I'm sure a modded 660 would have sliced right through those rocks!
I've driven today's road a lot in the last 3 years. I have it memorized along with all the bumps and slumps. I drove down slowly, about the speed the log trucks went. Memories of last summer's haul came to mind. The close calls with the berry pickers. The truckers on the radio saying they were in a standoff with the pickers, they were NOT going to go out on the outside part of the road to get around the picker. Then relief when the pickers chickened out.
The "coming down loaded at the SLOW spot"--the dump truck drivers called it a whoopdedoo. The smell of being behind the truck that forgot to hook up his trailer brakes and the front ones were smelly and smoking big time by the time he reached the bottom of the switchbacks.
Trying not to notice the trailers of logs swaying because of the rough pavement and all the slumpy spots.
I only had the froo froo pickup, but still went down in second gear. I could make pretend jake brake noises...