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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Sept. 30, 1900)
gesgwwMggsiflflKftswwwggsg mm. pptttJttt. MfrrurlrriiiDptirrrirr r ' " " "' '-' -"""J I PART THREE 1 && I PAGES 21 TO 28 if w A. A. YOL. XIX. , - . ., - paiBiaanaaBHHaaiBBaMHMHHHHaMHHnHHH S ' ' ii ' ' i 'In If ' IT f TiflM liill mil ' pi i n ii w i in im"wi. mi n i i 1 1 ii i ii TumrnrmrMirfmmirii ibiiii iiiii iiim ihiiiwimiiimii'iiiiii in i m null n i iiim.iiTMj.inmiLiijiiLui)ijiJiiimiii) iA JttBBMErPXiLlrSfJTfllF : i . n E?MBKi I LUMPING LOGS AT HE forests of Oregon! Whore will you match them for maj esty, for grandeur, for extent In robes of lllng green they clothe the hills; they cb er the rugged -mountain slopes aa "with a mantle, and every cleft and glen and canyon Is lined, deep and close, with their somber shade. The xostful Influence of "dim cathedral aisles," is theirs. Swift, snow-fed streams thread, with flashes of silver, the sha dowed silences, and laugh at Echo, sleep ing In her hidden caves, , or wandering, lost, along the distant ridges. Nowhere in the world can be found,more magnifi cent reaches 'of timber. From, the Cascades' frozen gorges to the grain-paved levels of the valley; grom the eastern base of" the Coast Range to Its serrated summit, and down to the aea, tho fir trees of Oregon stand thick and stately and talL They have seen the centuries pass, silent and unnamed. In this once lonely land, and the winds that hlow out of the western ocean have stirred their topmost branches, for, per haps, a thousand years. The moccaslned feet, whose noiseless Imprint, for count less generations of men, wore a winding path In the soft moss carpet, "no more pass and repass in the hushed solitudes. The Indian, trails are overgrown. The great "brown boles of firs rise, like fiufed columns, from a, luxuriant tangle of varied green, crowding each other close ly as they stand, with here and there a cedar, -or a hemlock, emblematic of true humility, mingling Its graceful branches with the darker foliage of the taller, statelier trees. The stillness Is Intense, but listen! Presently there is a faint murmuring, a long-drawn sigh, that swells and sinks and swells again, gradually gc thering in volume till it Is like the rush of storm tossed seas. The winds are awake. The trees find voice, The Tree. Ptr up la the heart of the Cascades, eo TIDEWATER . remote that scarcely the birds had found it, stood the tree a Douglas fir. Stately and tall in sun and rain, An emerald tower of mysteries, "With murmur of the far-oft seas "And Nature's countless melodies Blshlng through all Its banners green. Hundreds of years had slipped into the voiceless past since, bursting the brown walls of its seed-prison, It shot up-into the sunlight, a slender shaft, with myri ads of its kind, growing swfftly through the long, bright Summers and burled in "Winter beneath sheltering- snows. m Tear, by year, crowding ever more closely Its Immediate neighbors, until the less sturdy of .them lost heart and fell away, crumbling to dust that mixed with the mold, the young fir grew to a tree. Three hundred , feet above the brown earth its green crest was kissedsby the sun and- caressed by the winds. Tho white clouds, drifting in from the sea, acros the lower hilsl and valleys,- were caught and tangled In its loftier branches. Lightly rooted in the yielding soil, it yet stood firm and straight, protected from the rage of stormsvbythe serried ranks of its fellows. Sheer two hundred feet irom the matted luxuriance of bracken and wild grape at Its base, it sprang, without a knot or Jjiough to mar the symmetry of Its splendid bulk. The "cruisers," those menof fell intent,, who went up Into the great forest to spy out the lay of the land and estimate the quantity of the timber yield, paid it no particular attention. There were so many thousands of Douglas fir, all so nearly similar, that it seemed hardly worth while to single out one as ..an object for special admiration. But the two men who followed the timber cruisers to mark the trees for felling, were im pressed with Its majesty. They lamented, as they rested in the shaded stillness, feasting their eyes upon Its symmetry and size, the faot that it must fall. Lumber men are not without sentiment. The Silence Broken. X.ater came the logging crew, and the silence of unnumbered ce'nturles4 was broken hy the stroke of the ax the sound of the saw and the shouts of men, urg ing the patient oxen. Down below, on a convenient level-by tha river's brink,", is the camp. , Sheds PORTLAND, OREGON, havo been erected .for the cattle, and. a log house, or-sometlmes a barn-like build ing, hastily constructed, serves the com bined purpose of bedroom, kitchen and dining-room. It is lined wlih double rows of bunks, built against the walls and filled wlthv fir boughs. Tho middle floor ' spaco Is occupied by the dining table, a construction of rough boards. -.In one end is the fireplace, with Its wide-mouthed, wooden chimney, andithe ironrange, or stove, upon which the cook " and" his helper prepare the meals. The fate Is plain, but substantial, and it seldom " varies. TKe tableware"ls"notI as'a"Vule, of a breakable nature, but hungry men are not over-particular. In the master - of towels, the camp is communistic, ,but blankets, are individual property, .and each man furnishes his own. . ? From dawn to dusk of fcthe short Winter days the monotonous ..sweep of the saw, tlie rlriglngax stroke and sharp report of. the oxwhlp wake the' long-sleeping echoes in theupland woods."-Now and again, with a sound that seems to shake the'mountain to its center, a conquered giant goes crashing to the earih, where it lies, showered with shattered boughs, swept from its .still standing neighbor's in the fall, and quivering for a briefspace, ' as if tho snapping of those last tough fibers had a.o quite extinguished life: And now the stateliest tree in all the forest Is singled out and marked for! de strucion. The axmen approach, and, fitting the springboards firmly in place, proceed to chop through.- the thick, spongy bark and into the resinous, rich wood, making way for the saw and, at the same time, directing the course of the fall." This done, the great saw is lifted into position, and the slow process of felling the fir" is fairly begun. The Prostrate Monarch. .A sound like the straining, of spars, In a heavy gale warns tho wgodmen to look after their own safety.. Then comes a mighty crash, and the forest rmonarch lies stretched upon the leafy mold. . "When the commotion caused by that majestic descent has somewhat subsided, the prostrate tree is measured and sawed up Into 16 and 20-foot lengths. The bark is Temoved, and the ends of tho logs aro rudely' beveled. Men, with "canthooks" ;roll the lpgs into convenient position. By SUNDAY HORNING, SEPTEMBER 30, 1900. 1 lJHsllllllsMHBjS??rBii if . I BfiNKING"LOG'S.-r i means of heavy log chains and Iron hooka w mvu, vwo UA ICttUiS, v BUUICUIUC numbering a dozen yoke, drag them, one v by one, out over the skidroads to the top !of the i'chute. " The chute is made of , split , timbers, is slightly concave, and gpes straight down the mountain side' to ' t i ., h-oi- , , camps necessarily differ., Indeed 'these , It is no light -rtask to place a log and , , . '.;,i.tfv; .start It on its, downward journey, but,1 things are governed practically he na :oncev started, it goe3 with the swiftness ,ture of the trees to be handl6d4nd by . of the wind and the force of a cannon the locality, althoughEhe alnouritjof caj" ball, sometimes bounding high in the air. ital at the command of .the operating, In.- . as it strike's the level at the foot of the dividual or company figures vsome.wnat in l'V,.. 4V,--.n.ln l..j . ,j. , uiiuic! ui HHUWW1& u. viiuu ul spray as iu ' plunges In(o tho river's depths. All Winter long the work, begun in the j early Autumn, goe3 on. uninterruptedly in the mountain camps where the logs are "bankedi" to be afterward dumped into tho stream, in time to take advant age of tho Spring freshets. When this Is , done and the drive begins, the camp Is iron tracks, floored between with smooth i broken up; the ox teams are turned out timbers and kept flooded with water, in to pasture, and the logging crew f611dw3 order to prevent disastrous results from the drive on its slow, downward course, friction, have supeseded the "skid" roads. , Compared' to the work of "driving'," The motive power Is supplied by a logs in the rivers of Maine and Michigan ' staunch but grimy little engine that drag! Minnesota. and . Northern1 Wisconsin?, the lengthy train of logs, coupled by where the melting of ice in the 'farljr short chains or ropes and held by "dogs" Spring Is the signal for the breaking up. as, If they were so many cars, along-the j of the Winter camp, the Oregon drive concave track to the bank of the stream, might almost be called, a pastime.y 'al-;? 0r the shore of the tide flat-where they though It is far enough frqm probable are to be dumped. In some cases they that the loggers themselves regard Mt in are 'delivered, in this fashion, at the mill that light. The larger logs are prone "to -which converts them into lumbar, stick fast upon frequent gravel bars, There is one mlll.vfar up on a preclpl from which it requires much muscular "ex-T tous" mountain side, over 1000 feet above ertion to dislodge them. Those of greater' the Columbia, whose two logging camps length possess b a provoking tendency ,to are several miles distant, in - the very swing crosswise against every slightest heart of the heavy fore.st. Each of these obstruction in midstream, thereby form- camps' has its' own 'system of handling tag "Jams" thatar productive of -.toil, the logs,' and -thoy aro. as entirely.- differ-" 4 - t i ' i iltr s w yr-Jtl ' t A?T- !, v" "w , .. profanity and ice-cold, tin welcome, baths And there are other drawbacks.) Varying: Methbds. , The timber lands of 'Oregon arexof such Mt extenttf and the timber lfeelf so .va ried in character that 'the -means' "and mpthnrls mnlnviri In ths vnrintiit'lirHnrlntr I a... aj -v y lhv iiiu.ti.er. , j For instance, where the magnitude 'of the enterprise justifies the expensesteam takes the place of cattle or horse's, to a certain extent. The logs ae lifted,' moved and dragged out of the woods by means of strong cables, worked by steam. Where it has been practicable, well-laid eni'jasif'theV'were Hundreds Of miles apart. Extending to the first of these from the mill Is a railroad, similar to the one Just referred to. The heavy planking, istrong'ly spiked to the cross ties, is kept well watered along the levels, which, .however, are few, for tho grade is steep and winding for the most part. From the upper terminus .of the- line "skid roads" radiate, in every direction. Over these roads the-grea't, unwieldy logs aro drawn by yoked oxen to the track, whero they are linked together, end to end, at tached! to -the locomotive and hurried down to the mill. Cables anl Steam. In .the; second camp all this work of moving' the logs and getting them out of the timber is done by means of cables and steam. In fact, it is very much the sime svatem as that which onerates the city's street-cars, only -modified to meet the exigencies of the case. Thfre Is power-house, of course, and the ' cables, which are lJong enough to reach anywhere within a radius of a mile and a half, do the work 7that would otherwise require the presence- of many men and more cat tle. These "cables-are nearly automatic in their manner of working. Attached to the logs, 'they,, with ease, life and drag them out and.into "convenient position on the ever-present skid-road. Here they, the logs, 'are coupled and rapidly drawn to the'ehnte, almost a mile in length, and dispatched down its steep incline to the . Dond.from which thev are taken "as need ed, and. hauled by the locomotive to the mill b"bkrw. Theso are" but a few of .the many ways in whidh the labor of logging is conduct ed. Every company, it Is scarcely too much to "say, has Bome device or method .that lsjjeculiarly Its own, made necessary , by the situation and the character of the timber to ba gotten out. All 'along the , Columbia River .one sees flumes. NOno of these is eight miles long, and. down Its - watered Incline the" timber, roughly sawed into tlesand beams, is sent to the plan- era, on the river bank below. 1 a wamtnir Already . the ery goes up , that our hills and mountains are being denuded, ruthlessly" stripped of their valuable ,. robes, and a strong protest has" notj been wanting against the reckless destruction ., ,Va It ls wellthat this cry rs heard;, that this protesfhas been raised, for, in -spite : of 'the 2O.C00 000 acres of timber lands that go to swell the resources of this emerald state, and 10.000,000 of which, it has been estimated, are yet untouched, there ls sufficient .truth in the charge of "reckless destruction" to give us pause. .Neither the protest nor the .cry has been barren. Lof effect. Even now there "are measures i enforced looking to the protection and preservation of the splendid forest reaches .that "clothe our mountain ranges "and their-outlying spurs' and foothills, from base to summit. There are the Government reserves, pa trolled throughout ""th long, dry Summer by "those watchful guardians, 'the fore3t rangers, ever on,the lookout for fire.5 The time. Is not so far distant as to havo been forgotten when, from late July to early September, . the , valley t as veiled In smoke, and when we knew that, some where up there "among '"the crags and canyons of the Cascades or on the swell- ing slopes oi ine oast ange, me roresc flrss wereragimj. 4 When the .. pall of NO. 39. smoke was lifted, blown about and dis solved by the wind and rain of early Au tumn, the burnt district, once as beauti ful as a, dream and filled with the mys tery of wild life, presented a scene of the most utter desolation. Charred and black ened stumps, prostrate trunks and stand ing trees stripped of the g'ory of groin bough3, the sap of life seared out of them by the fierce heat of the ravaging flames; tho very soil scorched to crisping cinder ah! there could be no more dreary spectacle. There Is rone on earth, and many years must elapse befoie the dam age can, in any appreciable t!sc, be re paired. It Is due to the forest rangers and tho Qovernment reserves that recent "burns" arc few and of limited extent. During the last two years, no very destructive fires have occurred in the Cascades, and even the Coast Range has escaped. In some almost miraculous fashion. The state is at last awakening to the importance of preserving the magnificent forests. Individual interests, too, sub serve the public good. Trees represent a monetary value- not properly recognized until of late, and it Is h'ghly improbable that the settler who t.-kes up a home stead inr the heavy tlnmar will rashly de stroy hl3 most valuable possession, as was hl3 former habit. The time Is hap pily past when splendid trees, from 200 to SOQ feet in height, and perfect from root to topmost tassle, were cut down, bored full of auger holes and sot with fires that consumed them utterly, because, forsooth. thcy wero considered In the way and worthless. Lumbermen aro turning from, the reck lessly devastated timber lands of Maino and Michigan. New York and "Wisconsin., to tho matchless forests of Oregon and and "Washington. And with modern facili ties, with improved appliances of steam and electricity in the work of converting the standing tree into a marketable com modity, the disappearance of the, glory that clothes the hills and protects the valleys Is merely a question of time. The fir Is not. by far, the only valuabla wood known to commerce and grown on Oregon soil. The northern slopes of tho SIsklyous, the outlying spurs of the Caa- ' cades overlooking Klamath Marsh, and the gold-rimmed hlll3 of the southern, part of the state are rich In forests of pine the beautiful sugar pine, that for size and symmetry, very nearly approaches tho fir itself. It attains an average height of 1T5 -eet ls singularly free from knots and ' decay, and ls comparatively easy to han- dle Other "Woo d. , Alone the eastern, slope of the Cascade 'Range, extending southward from Tho Dailies, and well into Lake County. 13 a wealth of yellow- pine which, when con- ' verted into lumber, finds a ready market. Then there is the Menzie3 spruce (ablea Menziesil), the spruce of the tidelands. a tree that loves the salt sea air; that revels in the fury of storm!, and flour ishes best within sound of the SttTT. or . . .. ... . ... where the wild waves fling their rainbow l spray in the face of beetling cliffs. Its wood Is coarser-grained, and heavier than that of either the pine or the fir; but It has its uses, and is valued accordingly. . The cedars are widely scattered. The white or smooth-barked cedar grows freely throughout the northwestern port of the state. The incense cedar (libro cedrus decurrens), is found "no farther north than the northern limits of Lane County, and the Port Orford cedar, or cypress, stops at the Umpqua. It is at Its best along the northern, slopes of the SIsklyous, although It is found In abund ance In the region of Coos Bay and tha Coquille River. Then. there are the oaks, of which we have two, the black and the white, and the maples, the ash and the alder. La3t of all comes the cottonwood, until lately considered utterly without value, but now known to possess certain desirable quali ties that make It worth the consideration of the paper manufacturers. It is of rapia growth, and partial to the gravel bax3 that line the banks of many of our streams.- i,ifKTF"RN yL rrT.T-p)-