Log In, Old-Style

The pup & I went logging this afternoon. My pavilion is a French bell (similar to this one), and the original beams are saplings. I've since changed the internal support structure, making it look like a sawhorse:

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instead of pi:

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I made the legs of the "sawhorse" from 2x4's, but they lack the charm of the saplings.

I've also fiddled around a lot with the details of how the legs and top beam interact. I started with a roughly 18" triangular frame of plywood & 2x4's, bolting the legs in place, and in the process discovered that overconstraining the top beam to the legs results in split wood during setup/take-down.

After a few variations on this theme, the period solution seemed ideal (imagine that!): rope lashing.

Went out onto my landlord's 11 acres, and (with his permission) chopped down a 4" diameter maple. My first fell went pretty well; I was pleased with how cleanly I was able to make the cut. (About the time that the tree came crashing down, Dexter suddenly took a dislike to lumbering.)

As I cleaned up the bottom 12' of the sapling, my elbow spoke up, and reminded me of its tendonitis. "Broom, old boy," it said, for we are fond friends, "Wouldn't you think that the next 12' of this tree look mighty strong as well? And wouldn't it be easier to use that, than to fell another 3 trees this size?"

"P'shaw, nonsense!" I replied, for I was in a mood.

Hacked down another one, a bit smaller. My elbow again spoke up, while I rested, and its sage and simple advice began to make some sense to me. I shall make two poles from each of these trees, and thereby test just how thick the tent poles really need to be. After all, it's only War Practice this weekend; a safe and easy test.

My elbow is so smart, sometimes. In fact, it's smarting right now. Vitamin I, where are you?

The best part of the experience: I got to use a timber hitch for the first time!

OK, I lie: the best part of the experience was when I realized my little boy was nowhere in sight - he was finally brave enough to venture more than 50' from me! I called his name, and he popped up from around the bramble pile. COME, DEXTER!, and he came bounding across the creek, through the higher-than-him grass, tail high, happy as a puppy could be to come back to his master.

That sight was the best part of the day.