John Elliott could tell that the newbie was afraid of the chainsaw. He held it way out in front of his body, so that only the tip of the blade bit into the cedar tree that had toppled across the trail. To make the chain cut into the trunk, the guy was tiring himself out by pushing hard on the saw.
We get people who come from the Twin Cities and tell me, Im in great shape.I work out in the gym, Elliott tells me later. But it just blows them up, working on the trail. Theyre generally using muscles that they havent used before. And they work inefficiently, explains the 72-year-old, who hasheaded up trail-clearing efforts along for 40 years. Noobs watch Elliott melt away an 18-inch pine in just tenminuteson his best day, he dispatched 102 trees in just two hoursand scratch their heads at the older mans speed.
I just kill these young kids, and they cant figure out how, Elliottchuckles. But Ive been cutting in the woods since 1975.
Elliott doesnt exactly look like Paul Bunyan:hes tall and scarecrow gangly and sportsa graying moustache.Hes jovial and openand loves to teach what he knows, says Jeremy Nordling, the mechanized trail director for the Border Route Trail Association,a volunteer group that maintains the path.
Without Elliot and the volunteers hes led on biannual trail-clearing missions, theBorder Route Trail would cease to exist. The 65-mile path follows the U.S.-Canada border between Minnesota and Ontario. Thirty-five miles of the trail crossthe泭(詁兜唬插兜).
The only enduring open spaces in these thick northern woods are the regions lakes. Everything else quickly becomes a thicket of brush and saplings. Even the elegant,slender poplar trees that proliferate in these forests start their lives as hiker-thwarting shrubs. Every year, blowdowns bury sections of the trail beneath a tangle of pick-up-sticks.
So, like Sisyphus, trail crews arrive every spring and fall to push their proverbial boulder up the hill. Only by having volunteers hack away downed trees and scrub does this trail remain passable to hikers.
The brush is the worst, because instead of sawing away at one trunk, crews have to snip away at thousands of whip-thin branches. Its slow work, Elliott says.
Progress moves faster on the eastern and western ends of the Border Route, where crews can use power tools. Their power brush-cutters roarthrough tangled undergrowth and fitintobackpack harnesses, so crews can easily haul them to a work site. Volunteers also wield compact, 15-pound chainsaws that melt through the regions soft pines and poplars. You just rest the saw on the tree and let it ride down, guiding it with your fingertips, Elliott says. Anything else is wasted effort. A lot of people make the mistake of moving the saw back and forth, which does nothing.
But such tools are verboten along thesegment of the Border Routethat runs through the BWCAW. There, crews have to use a two-person crosscut saw. These two-handled, five-foot blades are remnants of the regions earliest logging daysand theyre dangerous, Elliott says. Theyre razor-sharp. You hear stories of saws falling on peoples legs and killing them. (The Border Route Trail Association, however, maintains a spotless safety record.) Crosscut saws are also tricky to use, since operators have to coordinate their movements. You cant push it at all, only pull, or itll bind up, Elliott says.
Antiquated tools arent the only reason progress is slow through the BWCAW. Theres also its distance from major population centers. Most Border Route volunteers commute from the Twin Cities, some 340 miles away. Journeying to remote sections of the trail requires additional time. Before they can clear the 6.5-mile section of trail between Gogebic Lake and the Pine/West Pike Portage, crews must first paddle seven miles and then hike a mile farther to base camp. So, in a typical weekend, most crews manage to clear only 1.5 to twomiles before they have to return home for work on Monday morning.
The U.S. Forest Service also requires that volunteers get certified to use certain tools. The chainsaw certification courses Elliott teaches take a full day, as do the courses on using two-handled saws.
Its involved, Elliott admits.And its hard, tiring work, but I like that. I dont go backpacking anymore. NowI only hike with a purpose.