Mapleman
ArboristSite Operative
I first met Guido at the Taco House, a small, hole-in-the-wall café in the Mission. But his reputation preceded him long before I heard his Wescos tapping on the hardwood floor. He walked straight to the juke box and plunked in two quarters. Rick James started blaring out the lyrics to “Super Freak” as Guido took a stool at the end of the bar. He wore a cut-off denim shirt and Wrangler Jeans; his thighs were as big as my waist; and he wore a Raider’s cap. It was his way of pissing off all the yuppie Niner fans when he worked in SF.
Guido lived in the Oakland Hills, and he commuted to The City on the BART, his climbing gear in a Klein utility bag and his climbing saw, an 038 w/24’’bar, between his feet. For some reason, he always had one end of the subway car to himself, even though he covered the 038 chain with a sheath.
My climbing partner, John Cozzi, had told me about Guido. He had met him at a Santa Cruz condominium complex where they were taking down big redwoods in 16-foot lengths for milling. All the climbers would lay out their steel cores in the parking lot to see who had the longest flip line. Guido had a 30-footer, so he usually got the biggest tree. Blocking down 16 feet of 28” diameter redwood from over 100 feet up was not for the faint of heart. Sometimes, no matter how hard you set your spurs, the shock of wood bashing wood a few feet below the block would gaff you out. You’d feel like a raggedy-Ann doll, dangling there by your flip line, a 100 feet up.
Guido was never known to use a pole saw. If he ever did, I think he used it to hook in yellow fin when he fished off the San Diego coast. His philosophy was: “Give me a bigger saw.” 020s for him were anchors for his dingy. When he thought his 038 was too small for the job, he’d ask for a 056.
When a big blow with 90mph winds came through the Bay Area one year, closing down the Golden Gate, the Monterrey pines and cypresses in the Presidio got really whacked. Guido was there with his 090 and six-foot bar making undercuts over his head. The guy had a set of cajones grandes…
Guido lived in the Oakland Hills, and he commuted to The City on the BART, his climbing gear in a Klein utility bag and his climbing saw, an 038 w/24’’bar, between his feet. For some reason, he always had one end of the subway car to himself, even though he covered the 038 chain with a sheath.
My climbing partner, John Cozzi, had told me about Guido. He had met him at a Santa Cruz condominium complex where they were taking down big redwoods in 16-foot lengths for milling. All the climbers would lay out their steel cores in the parking lot to see who had the longest flip line. Guido had a 30-footer, so he usually got the biggest tree. Blocking down 16 feet of 28” diameter redwood from over 100 feet up was not for the faint of heart. Sometimes, no matter how hard you set your spurs, the shock of wood bashing wood a few feet below the block would gaff you out. You’d feel like a raggedy-Ann doll, dangling there by your flip line, a 100 feet up.
Guido was never known to use a pole saw. If he ever did, I think he used it to hook in yellow fin when he fished off the San Diego coast. His philosophy was: “Give me a bigger saw.” 020s for him were anchors for his dingy. When he thought his 038 was too small for the job, he’d ask for a 056.
When a big blow with 90mph winds came through the Bay Area one year, closing down the Golden Gate, the Monterrey pines and cypresses in the Presidio got really whacked. Guido was there with his 090 and six-foot bar making undercuts over his head. The guy had a set of cajones grandes…
