Here are some current pictures of the property. The log cabin is a fully functioning off-grid home ready for adventure.

Here are some useful links for your visit to Erywilde:

Things to do and see

https://georgia-agritourism.org

https://www.exploregeorgia.org/city/thomaston

Mud! Oozie, goozie, glorious mud! Dear Parent, as you try to teach your home-schooled child about nematodes, worms, fungi, paramecium you know it just isn’t “sticking” with your student.

Imagine taking them to a country stream, a small lake, a wetlands area where they can collect their own mud, bring it home, and look at it under a microscope. All of a sudden, with the moving, living creatures under their gaze, they “get it”. Life becomes smaller and LARGER at the same time.

A living laboratory – Erywilde. Come join the learning adventure!

There are a number of key concepts that help you understand how a chainsaw works. The teeth are the cutting surface and they are positioned to remove the least amount of wood as quickly as possible with as little danger to the operator as possible.

Rule #1 when handling a chainsaw chain is to WEAR GLOVES!

There are two major chain saw manufacturers, Sthil and Husqvarna. Sthil offers chains that have two safety classifications – Red and Green. The Red are deemed for professionals as they are more susceptible to kickback. Green are “safer” but a bit slower.

To protect against kickback taking a nasty gash in yo’ head, there is a safety bar on the chainsaw. It is connected to a brake so if the chain saw kickbacks, the operator’s wrist will come in contact with the guard and thus engage the brake. This stops the chain instantly. Secondly, there are depth control guides on the chain that help reduce the chance of kickback. Finally, the teeth are designed to “hold” the wood a bit so it is less likely that the chainsaw will kickback so hard that it would actually come back on the operator.

The cutting edge of the teeth alternate so one is sharp on the right, the next, on the left. The sharpness of the cutting teeth affects the way the saw cuts. If they are not equal, the cut will veer inward or outward.

There is also a depth guide tooth that controls how much wood is cut by the tooth. It has to be very carefully filed to give it the exact length relative to the teeth. There is a little tool for this. Do not file these guides without the tool.

Finally, the angle the tooth is important but I really don’t understand too much about this piece of the chain sharpening puzzle. My advice is to follow the manufacturer’s guide.

Does this sound complicated? It is somewhat. I looked at dozens of videos on Youtube and got dozens of different opinions. Do your own research. Post your findings here. I would love to hear from you.

Personally, as it only costs $5 for a local pro to do it, I take them to him!

Done.

Frank

Three years since my last entry!

WoW. Stay tuned …

Update coming.

Ever read the book, Water For Elephants By Sara Gruen? Enjoyable story. Mild adult situations but good Summer cabin reading.

The cabin, just like elephants, needs water too. We had two choices – dig a well or extend the local private water supply. The well was expensive ($5,000) and most pumps use 240V, an energy hog to those of us “off grid”.

Instead, we chose to use the existing “private” water supply. It terminates in an outdoor  sink that sits next to the creek about 1,000 feet from the cabin. It is supplied by a 1″ water pipe. Per code, the pipe has to be buried in a trench. Ugh. Can you imagine digging a 1,000 foot trench and how long that would take? Neither could I. I rented a trencher.

This trencher had two handles on one side of the motor and a trenching “business end” on the other side. I started it up, stood behind the handles and aimed it forward. Amazing machine as it dug the trench and filled it up all in the same maneuver. Odd, I thought, how can you get the pipe in the trench between the digging and the filling?

This couldn’t be right. Hmm. Think. Think. Think. Wait, maybe I am running it backwards? Against all safety thoughts of pulling heavy equipment towards me, I stood IN FRONT of the beast and steered it from there. Much better. It dug the ditch and threw the dirt off to the side. I set the depth for 18” to protect it from freezing and wayward plows.

As I slowly trenched (about 100 feet an hour), I watched the tank-like treads that moved it. To steer it, if you pushed right, the tread on the left would go a little faster. Push left, right tread speeds up. Nice theory but an unhappy thing happened. I was digging along the edge of the “driveway”, aka a path through the field, and because of the different length of the grass and resulting difference in traction, regardless of how I steered it, it always pulled to the right.

I would dig about 30 feet, curving to the right. Then I would stop, re-aim the monster, start in a new, corrected, direction. Off I went. Trench. Stop. Reaim. Trench. Stop. Reaim.  It was hot as I slowly trenched my way around the field.

This strategy gave an overall effect of a repeating scallop design. Very artistic but so much more work! Into this ditch I had to join and lay multiple twenty foot lengths of 1” PVC pipe. The pipe has an extruded female end so you apply solvent to the male and female ends,  the glue to the male and female ends; insert the male end into female end as far as possible while turning ¼ turn; hold 15-30 seconds;  lay assembly into trench; and proceed to next joint. Fortunately, the pipe is flexible and it followed the curving shape of my ditch.

As I trenched, I encountered three and four inch roots thirty feet away from the nearest tree. I knew I couldn’t complete the last 100′ up the gravel drive and through the woods. So weeks later, Dave (See “I Love My Dave” post) came to the rescue. His crew used a backhoe to dig a 24” trench up the drive to finish bringing water to the cabin.

The process was long and it was almost dark when I finished. Thinking I could do just one more thing, I drove the trencher up the hill to the cabin. I wanted to dig a ditch from the front of the house to the back, about 4′ from the foundation. Piece of cake (crumb cake) – it was, after all, backfilled dirt. Sadly, the trencher stalled after about 10 feet. I pulled and pulled the starter cord, checked the gas, choke on, choke off. Pulled and prayed. That rascal could not be started. Now it is no longer getting dark, it IS dark.

Reluctantly, I decided against getting out the portable lights and called it quits for the day. Sadly, I still needed to I load the trencher on the trailer as I had to return it to the rental store in the morning. I absolutely cannot budge this thing without the motor driving the treads. Darn thing must weigh 600 pounds and it is 30 feet from the trailer.

I had thoughts of calling calling the rental place and saying “Ah, I have to keep your trencher for another day or two. By the way, do you know a good tow truck company I can use to get your trencher back to you?”

Dwelling on how good I had gotten at moving heavy things, I started to plan how to lift it up with a chainfall, back the trailer under it, lower it and return it. What a lot of work!

As I pulled and pushed, moaned and groaned, a small chunk of concrete fell out of maws of the beast.  The story of this piece of concrete is interesting.

The walls of the cabin were poured first. They rose nine feet above where the slab would be poured. To pour the slab inside the walls of the foundation, the contractor lowered a chute over one of the foundation’s wall (on the uphill side) and “dropped” the slushy concrete where the slab was being formed.

A fair amount of concrete sloshed over the chute, spilling on the outside of the foundation. As it sat there hardening, I thought “This is going to be impossible to break up later so I had better break it up now.”) So I pounded it into smaller pieces with a sledge hammer. Swing. Hit. Swing. Hit. Swing. Hit. Break. Repeat.  Later, one of these pieces became the source of the trencher’s jam.

That concrete was hard (4,000 psi) and it was not even scratched. FYI, the cabin’s slab is 4.5 inches of that stuff, with some footings 24” deep. It is strengthened with lots of rebar, and it has a nine foot foundation rising above it that is 11.5 thick 3,000 psi concrete. With the massive logs forming the upstairs walls, we affectionately call the cabin “the bomb shelter”.

With the trencher running smoothly, I drove it onto the trailer and tied it down. One of the longest days of my life but now the job of Bringing Water to Cabin is done.

Maybe we should have just dug the well?

Your weary documenter,

Frank

One of the guiding constructs of the Erywilde project is to use as much truly “native” material as possible. The logs are from the trees growing on the property. The oak floor is from a massive oak tree felled by a summer storm. Even the platform for the utility shed was a huge slab of concrete near the bunk house.

In the Log Home Builders Association (LHBA) worldview, there seem to be three key structural components to any cabin. First, the ridge pole. Most members want it as large as possible. Probably a compensating issue but for me, my ridge pole works just fine.

Second, the roof. “That’s quite a roof you have there.” is a classic LHBA comment about how expensive aforementioned roof probably was. And they are expensive. From my experience, to make it even more expensive, use metal instead of asphalt shingles. Make it a cathedral ceiling out out locally grown and milled rough cut 4 x 12’s. Finally, add sheathing (the part you see as the roof when gazed upon from inside the cabin) that was pulled up from the floor of a distillery, pressured washed, and attached to the beams on 48” centers. Oh, you also need to build a superstructure on top of the sheathing to hold the insulation. Add very expensive polyiso insulation for a nice R30 value and you have an incredible roof. Incredibly expensive.

Third, the front door. This is the BIG ONE of the big three to me. Our custom door makes a statement when the visitor approaches in the circular driveway and sees the gable end of the cabin and the massive front door. It makes a statement when approached by the visitor and the incredibly complicated grains, colors, swirls, knots and wormholes compete for attention and admiration. It makes a statement when it is swung open by the host or hostess and the visitor sees the 82” high door that is 41” wide. Finally, it leaves a lasting impression when the 200 pounds of door closes, by mistake, upon the visitor’s dog that did not get through the opening fast enough. Oops, sorry!

Desiring to make this door from material found on the property, we choose a large tree felled from the building site. Hickory. If you ever get a chance to work with hickory, DON’T! It is ornery. Twisted. Contentious. Stringy. Ill-mannered. But truly interesting and beautiful. The knots and color streaks are amazing. It is heavy and extremely strong. A prototypical wood for a LBHA log cabin. I love it.

So, now that we have the wood, the odyssey has begun. Here follows the journey from a beautiful tree in the middle of nowhere to a beautiful door in the middle of nowhere.

Step one. Cut tree.

Step two. Move tree to dam where it can start to dry. Also, where the bugs can begin to digest its goodness.

Step three. Call tow truck that can wench it up onto the tow truck’s bed. To move it from the ground to the bed, you wrap a large chain around it, secure the chain to the wench and pull it up. Sounds easy. Not so.

As we were maneuvering the log into position, the large, 6′ long steel stave (spike? pike?) I was using to move the end of the log slipped and the end hit me right in the middle of my forehead. Darn good blow, rather stunned me. I struggled mightily not to pass out and tumble down the embankment of the earthen dam on which we were working. Wasn’t concerned about getting hurt in the tumble but rather the embarrassment of knocking myself out with the stave. Luckily, I was wearing my “boonie” hat (where is that thing now???) and it absorbed some of the force. Some, not enough.

I started to bleed. Scalp cuts bleed a lot and as I reached up to gingerly survey the wound with my hand, it came away wet. And red. So, I did what any self respecting guy would do, I wiped my hand on my t-shirt. Tough guy. Argh, argh.

I then noticed the t-shirt I was wearing. It had been given to me by the American Red Cross for one of my many blood donations and it had two pictures on it. One of a bull dog (dawg as some would spell it) the University of Georgia mascot (red) and and a yellow jacket, the mascot of Georgia Tech (yellow). It whimsically asked, “What color do you bleed?” My wounded scalp was providing the answer – bright red.

Step 4. Tow truck delivers the logs (had to make two trips – two large logs weigh the same as one car) to the saw mill in Milner Georgia, a small town about 18 miles from here. Logs unloaded for further processing.

Step 5. John S., the proprietor uses his “wood mizer” saw mill to cut the hickory (and the oak but they have their own, soon to be written, story) into massive planks, 2 ½ inches thick, as wide as possible and about 13 feet long. Some of the planks were 5” in width, some up to 16”.

Step 6. Boards are stacked to air dry. Hickory is about 8′ above ground, sitting on the pile of oak boards.

Step 7. Frank does research about what to do next. Since hickory is so contentious, one must be very careful how it is dried. Kiln drying would still take a period of 6 – 8 weeks and would be expensive. Plus it would probably cause the planks to twist, warp, bow, check and get perhaps, unusable. Air drying would take 12 to 18 months. Hmm. Neither choice is attractive.

In my travels, I had noticed a particularly beautiful, massive door that I admired. I asked the tenants who made the door and they thought and thought and then remembered –  Lincoln S. Mr. S. was not easy to find (fleeing from creditors as many artists are?) but I did track him down.

Interesting guy. An artist whose studio is an old house off the square in a local town. Right next to the railroad track. An active track whose train periodically interrupts your conversation and demands your attention as it rumbles by, wheels screeching and horn blasting. I retained Mr. S and he went to work with his own line of research.

Step 8. Driving my pick up truck (a great tool for this project) up to Milner, I parked close to the drying stack of wood, the hickory planks being the object of my visit. Climbing up on the 8′ pile, I cleared off the tarps and drying sticks to expose the beautiful wood. First I had really seen it and I fell in love.

Next, I wiggled the boards one at a time to the edge of the pile, tilted the plank down, down, down so that its leading edge caught the tailgate of the truck. Worked the plank into the bed of the truck, climbed down from the stack, positioned myself under the plank, raised up, moved the plank further into the truck, squatted down and slid the plank until the weight it was fully borne by the truck, crawled out from under the plank, pushed the plank into the truck. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat …

There were 11 boards, some really quite heavy, over 100 pounds each. It was hot. I was sweating. Traveller, my dog was watching me from the shade of a tree, belying the expression about dogs and Englishmen. Loading finished, I drove slowly, heavily, into the sunset.

Step 8. With a working plan requiring 8 planks with a “ship lap” joint, I proceeded to take the wood to a large, commercial wood processing plant called Randall Brothers. They agreed to “straight-line” and plane the boards down to 2” and as wide as possible.

Step 9. I left the wood at Randall Brothers for a few days as I considered to choose them to do the joinery. They called after about a week and said “You have to come get your wood because it is acting up. It has already started a fight with one of our dock workers, flirted with a secretary and currently is smoking something in the leather chair of the big boss.”(I told you it was ornery.) I went back to retrieve my errant wood.

Step 10. Stood in the office of the floor manager of Randall brothers talking about how I could further process the wood and advance the progress of the door. It was sort of like a bunch of dads standing around talking about a son who wanted to get better in baseball. Calls were made. Names were remembered and shared. Heads were scratched. Conclusions were made. I loaded up the wood. One of the dock workers complained about how heavy the boards were and got a forklift. I thought “wimp” as I adjusted my hernia support.

Step 11. Took the boards to Mr. S’s place, a temporary resting place.

Step 12. A Monday. Met Mr. S, loaded up the planks and headed up the “the best woodworker in Georgia” who had a very complete machine shop. According to Mr S., he even had an Altendorf. Wow! His very own Altendorf.

One of the interesting elements of this new role as log cabin construction project manager is how many times I am absolutely clueless about what one of the tradesmen/ artist/laborers is discussing. Sometimes I nod wisely, sometimes I say “wow”, sometimes I ask for clarification (rarely) but mostly I look lost. But with the right aplomb, a skillful actor can make “lost” look wise and contemplative. That is the look I strive for.

With Mr. S in the lead, we drive into North Georgia, north of Canton. It was a long drive. Confusing. Lots of turns, including a wrong turn into a driveway. Finally we arrive and are met by another “Mr. S.” I will call him “SS” as his first name also starts with an “S” .)

Step 13. Unload wood. Look at wood. Try to arrange wood so it is in pairs that “lived together” inside the tree. When put together, they are almost mirror images (called bookending) around the centerline. Turned wood this way and that to get it aligned with the way it was growing (knots are actually directional). Marked the wood with tape and numbered it. Process took at least an hour.

Step 14. Run the wood through a joiner. This gets the bottom surface perfectly level. For example, if the wood was cupped, it would take the outer edges down to be in line with the middle section. If bowed, it would shave the leading and trailing edge to the level of the middle of the board.

Step 15. Run the wood through a planer. This is sort of like an upside down joiner. It mostly is to smooth the wood and remove the wood until it gets reduced to a specified thickness. We planed the wood down to 2”.

Think of a planer like a rolling-pin with blades running the length of the pin. Spin it really fast and then run the wood through it. Since hickory is so tough, the planer would sometimes catch on the end-grains of the wood around a knot as the grain curved from parallel to the face of the board to perpendicular. Now the planer is trying to cut across the grain instead of with the grain. This it does not do well and the hickory resisted its overtures. The result was a definite change in the pitch of the planer, a cross between a whine and a moan, and a large gash of hickory fibers would be ripped. Ugly. Probably why fine furniture is not made of hickory.

Step 16. Go to lunch. Went to a very tony garden store with a little lunch counter. The crowd reminded me of some country clubs and golf courses I have frequented infrequently. Definitely the 1%. I had a turkey with prosciutto panini sandwich. Lemonade. Very chic. Very slow too as I remember. Note to the Fertile Ground accountants – I paid for the lunch so I could keep the artistic muses flowing in my two artists.

Step 17. Cut boards to specified width, removing the centers of the largest boards. It turns out that the most stable wood is wood with the grain running perpendicular to the flat surface. This is called a “quarter cut” and by removing the heart wood of the largest plank, we got two quarter cut planks 5” wide. Instead of using the ship lap approach (which wastes a lot of wood), we opted instead for a tongue and groove arrangement. Except it was really a groove and groove with a square insert between them called a tenon serving as the tongue.

My dictum was to let the material dictate the construction so we ended up with 7 5” planks and one 6” plank. As I said earlier, custom.

Step 18. Cut a guide 82” long (doors are typically 80”) and measure out the best 82” of each plank. Mark. Cut to length.

Step 19. With a router, cut square groove in edge of each board. Make two passes. Cut is slightly short of being centered on height of board. Turn board over, make another two passes. This enlarges the groove slightly. Make sure to only groove the inside edge of first and last board.

Step 20. Different router blade, 45% angle. Run along corner edges of all boards. Forward and back. Top and bottom. Left and Right. One board, 8 passes. 8 boards for a total of 64 passes. Pick up belt sander after each edge is routed and sand to smooth and remove any stray hickory fibers.

Checked my watch for about the 100th time. I think it is about 7.

Step 21. Cut slats to be the “tongues”. This is very exacting work. Measure. Tap into place. Remove. Run through planer. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Starts to rain. Hard! Run out to roll up windows (where did this come from?). Got wet. Extra hickory not involved in project gets wet. Bring it inside. Dog, Princess, gets wet. Brings me her now wet tennis ball for the 50th time.

Step 22. Assemble the door. Yeah. Starting to look like a door. Very beautiful but not yet complete.

Step 23. SS has a unique way to add stability to the door. He measures out a wedge shape that echoes the shape of some huge hinge straps he just happens to have. So the wedge is wider at the hinged side and tapers to the other edge. He makes a template and marks the door. Next he takes a router and removes all the wood in the door inside the wedge area, down about ¾ of an inch. This takes a really, really long time and generates a tremendous amount of wood chips.

I call home to explain why I am two hours late for dinner. Wife agrees to put it in the refrigerator.

Step 24. SS pulls two pieces of walnut from his stock of wood and runs it through the planer. The planer handles it like “butta” and out comes a couple of beautiful pieces of walnut. SS takes the template and marks the pattern onto the walnut.

Step 25. SS uses his Altendorf to cut the walnut into wedges. Very exact worker, SS is. Wood edges were so sharp, I actually cut my finger on the edge, sort of like a paper cut.

Step 26. SS uses an angled router to cut an edge in the door’s cutout so that it angles in from the top. He puts a complimentary angle on the walnut wedge.

Step 27. Slide walnut into door’s routed grooves. First one fits like a glove. SS left an edge on the walnut so it sits up a bit from the surface of the hickory, hiding the gap where the hickory meets the walnut. Very clever. This is why, I guess, I am paying this guy $70 AN HOUR!!!

Adjust the second wedge until it fits perfectly.

Step 28. Adjusting my hernia support, I help load this 200 pound door into the back of my van. The rest of the wood soon joins it. I pay as I whimper a bit at the bill.

Finally I drive off at 11:00 pm and am the excited owner of a beautiful work of art. Yeah.

Woodenly yours,

Frank