Volunteers; all kinds of them, from everywhere. Kids, loggers, retired folks. Coming out and working a few hours before or after work or when ever it was possible. The building itself was built by the high school carpentry class. The delightful chain saw carvings that adorn the outside of the building were donated by a local carver. Everything in the museum was used at one time for what ever purpose it was intended. After being discarded for it’s obsoleteness, volunteers carted these relics back to the museum. Each one with a story attached. As we arrived, the buildings were getting a fresh coat of varnish, compliments of the local correctional institute. Sherrill knew every item in the place and most of it’s history. The wife of a retired logger, she kept us attentive for a hour or more with tales of the timber country in the good old days. At the visitors center next door, two more volunteers cheerfully greeted us as we signed in. With all this, there was still more. Three times a week, a volunteer borrows a station wagon from the owner of one of the lumber mills and gives a tour of the forests and mills that are available. There is no charge for this, although they won’t turn down a donation for gas with is otherwise usually paid for by the driver. The next tour would be tomorrow. At the end of the complex stands a small chapel displaying a 12 foot statue of a logger carved out of a large tree. It is the work of Dennis and Margaret Chastine, which they donated to form the basis of the Loggers Memorial. The names of those who perished on the job are listed to each side, grouped by years. The early logging years proved to be quite hazardous for young loggers.

We returned the next day for the logging tour. Jack Zaccardo was a large framed man who appeared quite suitable to the logging profession. A broad face and gray mustache seemed to qualify him as the Paul Bunyan type. He was a retired government logger, fireman and inspector, just to mention a few. He was a wealth of knowledge, not to mention that he seemed to know everybody we ran into. Our first trip was out into a clear cut area where stood the Worlds largest western red cedar. A behemoth standing 170 tall with a base diameter of almost 20 feet. Jack talked candidly about the logging business, past and present. Like the salmon industry, logging is in constant conflict with it’s competing elements of loggers, government, and environmentalist. Many years ago, the Federal Government gave to the State of Washington, millions of acres of old growth forests to be used to fund the state’s needs. Today, contract logging on these lands pays much of the public school debt. Very little of Washington’s forest are privately owned. Recently the Spotted Owl controversy raised by environmentalists has resulted in a court injunction that has halted the harvesting of some of these lands. On the days we were there, a high fire risk had shut down all logging in the area.

From the tree, we went to a lumber mill. The order for the day was 2X4 construction beams. It is amazing the amount of large machinery needed to reduce a large tree into 2X4s. One machine sliced the trunk into a large square, taking off just enough to remove the bark. The bark was wised away to the furnaces of the electric plant right there on the property. Nothing goes to waist. The trimmed logs passed on down to the next machine which cut them into yet smaller pieces and sent then further. Finally a rough version of the 2X4 was produced and run over a conveyer where keen eyes watched, dumping any rejects into a one way conveyance to the furnaces. Those that pass inspection, and there are many such inspections along the way, finally arrived at the planner where they were shaped into the finish product and pack on pallets, ready for loading on the trucks. It was a highly automated process. The human eye was everywhere watching, but very little was done as the boards moved from machine to machine to pallet in a uninterrupted stream. The next mill was just the opposite. A shake shingle mill which was pretty much unchanged from it’s pre-world war days. Red Cedar is all that is used, prized for it splitting ability. It can be done in several ways. First split to about an inch, it is then sawed diagonally so that one end is thin and the other fat. This was fascinating, and some what frightening to watch, as there was literally no safeguards or safety equipment in use. A conveyer belt moved the wood along to each post which had a machine being operated by a person. The speed at which they worked was unbelievable. At any second I expected to see a severed arm go flying across the room. The wood moved at the speed of the belt and the operators had to keep up with that speed. No breaks, no sit back and take a breath. Arms flew in and around the machines like some high speed karate demonstration. Wood seemed to fly everywhere, yet always ended up back on the belt. I felt tired just watching. I didn’t dare ask about medical plans available. The tour ran about 3 hours and took in several more stops. Jack kept up a constant flow of general and specific information about everything. Never was a question asked, that he didn’t have a knowledgeable answer. All in all it was a great time.