Taking The Fall

TAKING THE FALL

Noel Laflin

November 8, 2012



Looking back on it now, it was the fear that a 'widowmaker' of gargantuan size was the reason for taking down the massive ponderosa pine that stood majestically near the edge of Inspiration Point up until the summer of 1969.

Now, Jim Lockyer, our Nature Director that summer, was not in favor of this decision.   Whether he figured that the heavy branch did not pose a credible threat of breaking off someday and killing someone, or was more gravely concerned about the potential damage the giant's fall would cause to surrounding younger stands of trees – well, I can’t be certain.  What did I know after all?  I was only sixteen and very keen on getting in on the action.  But, even after all of these years, I remember just how pissed he was once we got our hands on the double-edged axes and two-man saws.  He retired to his cabin in disgust.  And, I still recall just how badly I felt for our quiet man of nature – as he truly was a well-liked, soft spoken and gentle soul.  But, raging teenage testosterone prevailed and I soon found myself with an axe in my hands and a determination in my heart to be a latter day logger.

And, so it began.  Word quickly spread of the event in progress.  By the time I arrived on the scene, there were two or three young men simultaneously swinging axes into the base of the tree.  Several others knelt on the ground sharpening more double-headed axes with files and wet stones.  There were more boys lined up eagerly awaiting their turn to put in a swing or two. It appeared that this was going to be a daunting task as our behemoth ponderosa was at least five feet in diameter.  I ducked as flying pieces of the thick bark would break away willy-nilly.  Guys were removing their staff shirts as sweat stains began to outline their backs.  The afternoon was growing warm.

We stayed all day.  I remember how Jim Hirsch and Jeff Sherwood, two older staff men by whose side I chopped, nearly abandoned their duties at the pool.  There was no one interested in swimming anyway as most of camp had gravitated to the Point.

In all, we were a sorry looking lot sporting hand blisters the size of silver dollars by the time we broke for dinner.  My own palms looked no different – nor did those of any one else by evening.  But the dying light of the long summer day finally came to a close and we called it a night.  We were half-way through the trunk.

Day two found us back on the scene – hands raw, bleeding and crudely bandaged.  By this time, much of regular camp life had come to a halt as older kids and adult leaders helped relieve the staff by either grabbing hold of an axe, two-man saw or file.  The rest of the spectators grabbed a piece of shade somewhere and watched for signs of a tree in tilt.  Guide ropes were rigged to higher points of the ponderosa and attached to the bumper of the old camp truck.  Both iron and wooden wedges were constantly being pounded into the gaping wound created by the relentless hacking and sawing.  They would be moved about as new contact points were started or expanded. We were three quarters of the way through the base of the tree. 

I can’t be certain, but I believe we did not stop for lunch.  The end was in sight and no one wanted to miss the finale. And, sure enough, it soon came.

It started with the faintest of small cracks within the remaining lifeline of the tree’s base.  Boys with axes in half-swing held back like hitters at the plate checking their swing.  There was dead silence all around.  A hundred pairs of ears strained to listen more intently.  A small breeze rustled pine needles high above – or was it a slight shudder shimmering its way to the top of the mighty tree?  People did not stop to debate the question.  We did instead, what any rational being would do at that point, dropped the axes, files, and two-man saws and ran like hell.

More sharp crackling at the base of the tree filled the air as the giant began to sway.  Men and boys scrambled in what they hoped would be the opposite direction.  The remaining core suddenly snapped – giving off a sound similar to that of a giant broken baseball bat.  We stood in frozen amazement as the graceful beauty crashed to the earth, causing those of us standing to rise a bit in the air and nearly fall ourselves as the shock waves shook the Point and beyond.  The sound was deafening.

The remaining stump and jagged broken core oozed and glistened with sap for years to come.  Large hunks of bark – looking more like giant pieces of an alien jigsaw puzzle - littered the ground for summers to be.  Massive branches and limbs from the upper regions of the tree, including the widowmaker, snapped off upon impact. They were chopped up over time and provided fuel for the campfire ring at Inspiration Point for the next decade.  People stood upon the fallen giant and had their picture taken well beyond the closing of Ahwahnee some dozen years later.

Now Jim Lockyer had pointed out that should the tree fall toward the Point, a small grove of white fir trees stood to be demolished.  Well, he was right on that score.  The entire grove was smashed in the fall.  The massive ponderosa and its limbs wiped out a couple of dozen of the young firs as it hit and bounced upon the earth, causing complete ruin in its path.

Our Nature Director did not speak to us for days.

The rest of us nursed our blisters, some the size of silver dollars, for days to come as well.