To be fair, the axe was never truly intended to be used this way. It’s made by The Best Made Company in Tribeca, where the men are skinny and their jeans are skinnier, and their beards are full and their plaid pronounced. These are not the sorts that make axes for the mountain men out West, for the guys that strap these axes to their backs and hike for days. These are made for trips to the Adirondacks, to pack in the Defender 90, atop the Yeti cooler and next to flea market wool blankets, next to the wicker fishing creel and the bamboo fly rod. These are prop axes, but what beautiful props they are. Say what you will about these city dwelling faux outdoors men, they know how to make an axe.
The first few swings felt right. It had taken some time for my son and I to find a tree that was suitable for our intended purpose. Most of these trees are wild cherry and boxelder. Mulberry, too. They grow crooked on purpose. Most on the property are alive, and I didn’t really want to harvest all live trees to build what must be built. So we walked, and when when stopped at a tree that was dead but not rotten, I took the first swing. And then the second. The wood split away like I had hoped it wood. The axe had been used before, plenty of times, but always with the log standing upright, with its grain exposed to my edge, and things split nicely, as they should. Swinging an axe against the grain is not as effective. American Felling Axe, in theory.
My son had his axe, but it wasn’t best made by any hipsters in New York. I had bought a bunch of these smaller axes some time ago, and they’re mostly for throwing into hunks of wood, but they have a handle and a blade, so they should be able to fell a tree. He swung a few times, chiseling splinters from that tree. I swung when he was done, and then he swung when I was done. Who picked this tree, anyway? Why did it have to be so incredibly thick? It looked, at first glance, like a small Boxelder, maybe 10″ in diameter. Half way through, it looked like a Redwood, towering over us, it’s girth mocking every one of our swings, Best Made or otherwise.
I had hatched this plan a night or two before, while watching Thorn in his ridiculous, water logged shelter. Thorn is one of the stars of a show called Live Free Or Die, but it might more accurately be called Live Free While The Cameras Are Rolling. Thorn is one of the stars, a guy who looks like Earnest P. Whorrel is the other star, one guy who looks like a Best Made Axe Co model is another, and a hippie couple with very questionable hygiene is the fourth. But about Thorn, he lives in a hut built into the side of a hill, with leaves and grass serving as his insulation, and animal pelts as his carpet. He has a wild glint in his eye, and some twigs shoved through his ears. He is a mountain man, and I respect him.
But his shelter is woeful. I watch this show, and others, and I always wonder why they don’t build better shelters. That one guy went to Alaska for a long time, and he built himself a proper log cabin, with masonry fireplace and everything. Why can’t they do this? It shouldn’t be very hard, if you’re alone in the woods, with some axes and lots of free time. Just chop down a tree, then another, and another and another, until after some time, your cabin is built. Build that cabin and you’ll be so much better off. Why not? I know I would. I’d build a beautiful little cabin, and I’d make it look like the cover of Dwell magazine, with a proper roof and a proper front door, and some windows. I’d have to source the windows.
I do not live in the wilderness, but I live on 10 acres with trees and grasses and wild woodland creatures. I have these axes. That’s why I took those swings last night, and that’s why that tree finally fell. I realized once it fell that the battle was only then beginning. I’d need to section that tree into 8′ pieces, and then scrape the branches off, and the knots. I’d drag those pieces to the preferred building site, which should be high, in a clearing, so it won’t flood when the spring comes. To follow the plan I developed in my mind, I’m going to need about 80 such sections of log, which sounds like a lot, now that I haven’t even made one piece. I’m going to need some old timey tools.
Later today, I’m going to take my son to an antique store. Most antique stores are okay, but they aren’t old timey tool focused. There’s one such shop outside of Walworth, and it’s only open on Fridays for a bit, and for some of Saturday. It’s a treasure trove of old tools, and I’m looking for the following: Some more axes. Some splitting wedges (to make the floor boards). A shingle splitter thing- it looks like a small sickle, and I saw it on the Mick Dodge show. I’ll also need a bark stripper, and old hand drill, and a file to keep things sharp. I need some saws, a two man and a one man, so we can properly process these logs. We haven’t decided if we’re going to use nails, and I’m thinking we won’t. We’re going to make pegs and pound those through holes we’ll drill with the old hand drill. That’ll do.
Why am I doing this? Because I’m slowly losing my mind? No. I’m doing this because I’m kind of tired of living comfortably. I think I could have been a fair pioneer. I mean, I would have settled somewhere in the Northeast, because I don’t like long road trips, but I think I could have survived. So I’m going to build some sort of shelter on my property, no permits required. The rules are simple: Only materials from the property may be used. Only old time tools may be used. No power tools. If I stick with it, I’ll send you a picture. Why do I want to do this? Why not?