Off the Leash - By Hank

I am going to try something a little different in this month’s article.  I’ve always fancied myself as having a doctorate in B.S. so here’s a little fictional story about a logger for your consideration.

Our story’s main character is Jim.  Jim is a third-generation logger.  His turn at the family logging company began a short forty years ago when he bought out his father, who had bought it from his father.  Jim took a company that consisted of a few busted up dozers and a handful of old McCulloch chainsaws and slowly turned into a fully mechanized operation worth north of 3 million dollars.  Now Jim is getting up in age and the thought of fishing every day is starting to sound pretty darn appealing.

Our story starts on a cold October morning.  Frost came early and hard this year.  As Jim’s eyes open, his first view is the old alarm clock that is reading 1:30 a.m.  Funny, the alarm was set for 4 a.m.  Jim rolled back over with relief, knowing he had 2 ½ more hours of sleep.  Jim’s body desperately needed more rest but his brain was awake.  Thoughts like, “I hope those parts are in today”, “It rained all night again.  I hope we can get the trucks out this morning” and “I really need to find somebody to run the buncher” are racing through his head. 

Jim decided he might as well get up.  He tried his darnest to sneak out of the bedroom, trying not to wake his wife, Judy.  Judy had always been there for Jim, even when times got tough.  She also does the books for the company and is Jim’s biggest cheerleader.  Jim grabs his lunch out of the fridge that Judy made for him the night before.  As he slips his boots on, he smells the pot of fresh coffee brewing that his barley awake wife just started.  She hands him his thermos and with a kiss on the cheek, tells him to be careful.

Jim jumps into his trusty pickup.  It struggles to start as the poor thing just clocked over 300,000 miles.  A thick fog blankets the valley as the pickup rattles out of town.  As he turns on the haul road, one of the numerous pot holes jars him awake.  Jim cusses the lack of maintenance on the road as he calls out mile markers. 

Funny, he hasn’t met a truck yet.  Usually, the first round is out by now.  As Jim heads off the haul road and onto his spur, he passes several decks of pulp and pine logs.  He soon meets a string of empty log trucks buried in the fresh mud.  Jim grabs his rain coat and proceeds to pull the trucks to the landing with his trusty dozer thinking the whole time, “I really need to get these loads to the mill.  The end of the pay half is tomorrow”. 

Day breaks as the sun reaches over the mountains.  The crew just showed up and all of the equipment Jim has worked so hard to acquire soon churns to life.  Jim is sure proud of his guys and feels lucky to have them. 

As the sun bakes the wet ground, the mud slowly starts to turn a light grey.  The trucks show up for the second round and by golly they made it to the landing without needing help.  As the loader reaches for the first log, a fine mist of hydraulic fluid is seen across the landscape.  The crew assemble on the wounded machine like ants.  To Jim’s surprise, they had a hose in the shop truck and they barely lost any oil.  Jim was happy as he can’t afford anymore downtime.  The operation again roars back into life.

As Jim stands in front of his Dozer’s radiator, trying desperately to warm up, he can’t help but think, “I hope I can make this month’s payments”, “When will these markets pick back up?”, “How much longer are my gypo trucks going to stay with me.  They are all in their late 60’s”, “I really need to buy a new skidder, but I don’t know if I can with these interest rates”

The short fall day is coming to an end as darkness starts to settle over the steep hill side. Jim shuts down his buncher for the day.  The crew left a couple hours ago, so there is for a moment a calming silence on the landing.   Jim pours himself a cup of coffee from his thermos.  As he takes his first sip, he can’t help but think of his wife.  He climbs into his truck after a long day and starts his ninety-minute drive home.

As Jim finishes his last cup of coffee his mind starts to wander.  “I’m sure proud of the crew to be moving this many loads in this junk”, “I sure love it out here.  I don’t know what I would be doing if I wasn’t logging”, “I hope the rumors are true and the stud market is picking up”, “Both my Grandpa and my Dad went through tough times, so can I”, “I bet I can sell some of that pulp for firewood”, “Charlie has sure turned into a good employee.  Maybe I should talk to him about taking this business over”, “There’s not many of us loggers left out there.  I bet once the election is over things are really going to be good for us who are left.”

Jim pulls into his driveway and is soon met by Judy as he drags his tired body into their home.  The smells of Judy’s cooking hits his nose and his boots sure feel good to be off his feet.  His phone buzzes with a text from a former employee, “Hey Bossman.  The oilfields didn’t work out for me.  If you’ll have me back, I would love to run your buncher again”.  After a short evening, Jim’s head hits the pillow.  “I wouldn’t be able to do this without Judy.  I’m taking her to Hawaii as soon as breakup hits”.  As his eyes close, the last thought in Jim’s mind is “Today was a good day.  Life is good”.