Talk:Hewing (Timberbee)

From the Quicksilver Metaweb.

Enoch Root says to Ben Franklin that natural philosophers hew to the truth.

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Lectures Vs. Hands On

It's particularly tough thinking about providing instruction in hewing via the written word. Hewing is something which is inherently physical, at least, this is how I have always viewed it.

I became a Timber Framer, professionaly, as a Direct result of this sort of dilema. Wishing to build a house for a Girlfriend and myself -- not sure the WHY is so important right now, though maybe it is for some who are seeking the same thing for the same reasons -- I quickly realized that this was not something I could learn from a class. What I felt I needed, was the ability to practice 40 hours a week, and, where better to learn than from an operating shop.

But on the other hand, Books can not, and should not, be disgarded. Books are where I found a focus for my interest. I learned through books that it was the flexibility of the design and use of a timber frame, primarily Use, which appealed to me, much more so than Log Building. Though this doesn't quite hold true for me any longer, it certainly was where I was at 15 years ago.

My first experience, Actual, hands-on experience, that it, came when I purchased a VERY shitty Adze from a rather large and prominent supply house. The knowledge I used came form a book, and a television clip which showed Polynesians shaping a wooden craft with adzes.
What I practiced on were rotten, fallen logs within a local city park.

It was also a chance to use a little bit of stealth :D

I suppose the point I am seeking to make here, is that knowledge will be where you find it, and, if you want it bad enough, you will find, and/or Make the opportunities yourself.

This might also be time to talk about opportunities, or, what I like to call :D (Gotta love them smiley faces)
The *Rat on a sinking ship* syndrome. I was hired to surface some timbers for the restoration of, actually what was quite a famous Barn, recon it's best not to say which, as the outcome of all this is quite a nice story in and of itself, and the name of this Barn happens to be the Punchline.

This was both my first and second job in the field, odd as that is. The job was absolutely Brutal, long days under a hot sun, in the middle of a field, Surfacing sides per timber, Using an adze to take two inches off one face, an inch off of two others, with what seemed like hundereds of timbers to do.

I used to measure how bad things were getting by how long it took me before I could brush my teeth in the morning. You see, you'd wake up in the morning, and your damn hands'd be in the shape of an adze handle. On good days, wouldn't take long at all before you could move your fingers, might just be a bit after you managed to pull on some clothes, with them hook like hands.

Dressin wasn't too bad, found out you didn't really need to actually Use your fingers to do that.

Brushin your teeth, now that was a different matter.

On Bad days you'd stare, down at them hands, toothbrush kinda cradled loosely between these two gosh darn, glorified Cup Holders, wondering how the heck you were going to do this. Heck, you gotta figure to, you couldn't bend your wrists either, but, you kind of get used to that, as bending wrists seemed like it was going out of fashion quick, and you just found out your arms tended to be the most gosh darn fashion concious creatures around, but the fingers, well, that was just plain silly.

But, that was just a bad day. By the time you drove the hour, plus, to work, thoughts of all that were just out the door, that was tomorrows concern, sort of, like wondering what Beetle Bailey was going to come up with next. It didn't really matter, it was just something funny waiting for you around the corner.

At some point we learned that, maybe these people didn't use Adzes at all to surface the original timbers in the first place. Which, kinda made sense, cause I couldn't copy the patterns onto the new stuff for the life of me.

To make a long story, well, a little shorter, anyway. There came an opportunity to try actually hewing these things, rather than surfacing them, and I mean with Axes, not these Wrist breaking, Back Beating, Finger Locking Pain Pills on a stick, and hewing from Logs to boot! The Reall stuff.

By this time I had a partner in pain. He was learning real good. Morning time would come and we'd meet back at the Ok corral, not the You're OK, I'm OK variety, but the Ok, we're both here, the timbers are here, and we've been spotted, so, I recon we have to actually LOOK like we are working, let's get this over with so I can see if I can drive all the way here tomorrow before I can open up my darn fingers! Gotta have goals.

Our Bosses wern't real keen on this "Axe" Stuff. But they'd given us a chance to prove ourselves. See, Buying timbers 3 inches bigger than you actually needed was one heck of a drain, especailly when you then had to pay people to turn all that extra wood into chips! And you without a wood stove. So, they made us a deal. They'd find us a log, reasonably small, this was just a test you know, and they'd time us. If we could show them that it was cheaper supplying us with logs, And, we could produce a decent product, well then, My Girlfriend could just forget about that alternative career as a Dental Hygenist.

Turned out them boys didn't know a "Good" log from a crooked, knot infested, spiral grained one. Cause that's just what we got, and I don't mean "Good". That darn log had more leaders than a backwater, third world nation. And, on top of having grown up on the bank of a River, so that one half was nothing but knots the size of a man's head, which wouldn't have been so bad except it looked like a darn totem pole, it also grew up on the side of a steep hill, which meant, it didn't just have Knots on one side, it also had what's called, tension and reaction wood. You can think of it like the downhill side was all hydralics, and the uphill side was all steel cables. Though we didn't know all that at the time, all we knew was that when you tried to take equal amounts off of both sides to balance out that darn, corkscrew, totem pole, dead, dried worm, looking thing it suddenly came to life, and man, that was no worm that was a Sea Serent out for blood. Every time we'd take a whack on one side, the whole thingd go from convex to concave, or back again.
take your pick

This wasn't a test,
this was a challenge.

So, you're asking; "What's the point of this all?" Sure, it's a good story, but where's that durned drowning Rat?

Well, I'll tell you. That Log was the Rat, or was it my Boss, anyways. We battled that thing on and off that whole day, and by gosh, by the finish of that day we did it. We turned a log, one that "Could" have made a fine, wayne free 9x9 -- Could have if we existed in a universe where such a thing was possible in the first place, that is -- into something that sort of resembled a 5x8 Timber, if you looked at it in the right light that is, and of course, if you were on some of them psychedelic substances, which. Lucky enough for us, is exactly what our Bosses were up to that day. Thank God for small miracles, though, could be that's how we ended up where we were in the first place.

And here's where the Rats on a Sinking Ship part comes in.

At the end of the day I was grinning like the gosh darn cat that ate the canary. This had been the best gosh darn day I'd had in the last three months of this stuff, I couldn't believe it. I was about to learn what sex in the morning was all about, again -- That being, sex where you are actually concious, and the question, "Was it good for you" wasn't actually a fact finding mission.

That's when I found out my partner in pain didn't feel the same way I did about all of this. Apparently he got a kick out of having G.I. Joe, Kung Fu grip, at least, for an hour out of the day.

For me, there was nothing I wouldn't do to be hewing these things, rather than going back to the Misery Stick. Lie, cheat, steal, heck, par for the course, so, when he told me we failed, I coulnd't quite grasp what he was saying.

Failed? Yeah, we took to damn long to finish the stick, and, it looked like shit. Heck, it didn't take long at all, was my reply, why, I don't know about him, but I played hookey for most of the day. And, shit? He was setting his standards way to high, me, I was valueing using a fork for breakfast again, enough of them "Slimfast" shakes for breakfast, even if they Could be eaten with a straw. And, anything that would help me do that sure didn't look like shit to me,
it looked like pure gold.

To me, I was a Rat on a sinking ship, and this here log, this twisted, gnarly, knot ridden, river dwellin, hill hugging, "Thing" was just the ticket, that log was my life preserver, floating out there, tempting me, and I didn't care HOW bad it looked, cause when your only other option is going down with the ship you jump for it. Heck, it could have been a mirage, but it was something.

It was a chance.

Long story, but, what does it have to do with Hewing, and the question of Hands On Experience vs. Lectures? If you want it bad enough, you'll make the opportunities, you'll jump from one floating piece of garbage to the next.

If you DON'T want it, you'll find yourself arguing that having G.I. Joe Kung Fu grip will at least not make you go blind, and end up complaining about the least little thing, like getting sap on your pants, just so you can maintain the status Quo. That's something to be honest with yourself about.

So, I recon, for some folks, Lectures, articles, shitty ass tools in crappy catalogues will be their way to dry land, it might not be the best but heck, they are going to be the ones to actually put it to some use anyways, so, what does it matter. timberbee 12:33, 10 Jan 2004 (PST)