anyone out there an aborist?

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Chaz

Trad climber

greater Boss Angeles area

Aug 20, 2015 - 08:53am PT

And after trimming the trees to within 6" of the power lines ( assuring a job for next year ) they come back the next night and steal all of your avocados.

Had it happen three times ( Mawbry's tree service hires thieves ) before I worked with Edison to get rid of any tree with the potential to grow anywhere near any of their lines, so Mawbry never has to set foot here again. I haven't had a rip-off since.

Bill Mc Kirgan

Trad climber

Cedar Rapids, Iowa

Aug 20, 2015 - 08:54am PT

you kinda get used to
tiptoeing around disaster.

^^ wow I especially like this gem of expression
and the entire piece is great!

Good stuff Norwegian!

Norwegian

Trad climber

dancin on the tip of god's middle finger

Aug 20, 2015 - 09:38am PT

i love this time of year
when the dwarf mistletoe
is ejaculating from
it's swollen staulk
and as the climber
ascends in attempt
to extinguish the seeds,
he triggers their
release and now,
attacked like an ovary
he feels like
he's climbing back
up tall vagina
into time's womb.

Norwegian

Trad climber

dancin on the tip of god's middle finger

Sep 29, 2015 - 11:13am PT

the reality of work:

140' up a lightening-strik and thus dead lodgepole.

a vertical fracture runs up
the entire pine spine.

the base: rotten. only a horseshoe-shaped
section is holding the lot up.

i go to a small top because
i fear a barber-chair with the crack feature.

as i prepare to top, i've
one more branch to clear,
to better my position.

but the last branch
happens to be a witch-broom diaster,
quite heavy, all on the tip....

i have to fling the branch,
so's to not hit the porch-cover below.

i make the cut,
my arm struggles for strength,
my grip, maxed.

my balance is off, but we're on
our way.

as i begin the swing my funny bone
hits a stub and my entire forearm
goes numb.

i look at my fingers, gripping
the branch only from muscular
memory, i hold,
just long enough it's gone.

i watch it drift down,
and the wind gives the
necessary encouragement,
i miss the gutter
by 4'.

the owner has no idea
the peril i've just inherited.

i take her top off and
then work my way
down her midriff
6' at a gallop
all the while watching
her seeping crack.

and sure enough,
when i finally fall
the stick the entire
trunk splits into two.

whew.

Fossil climber

Trad climber

Atlin, B. C.

Sep 29, 2015 - 12:37pm PT

Worked with a tree company a couple of summers when in school, trimming trees along power lines on State highways. You were forbidden to use tree hooks (spurs) along the highways, so you had to throw a rope over a branch and climb the rope to get into the canopy. I think they work a lot from machinery now. Great way to stay in shape.

Of course I did manage to run a tree hook into my ankle and cut the flexor tendon to the big toe, which has flopped around useless ever since, and that didn't help my rock climbing technique a whole lot. Quite a few hazards to the job, but it will whet your risk calculation skills. And it is entertaining to admire some amazing chain saw scars on the old timers.

Norwegian

Trad climber

dancin on the tip of god's middle finger

Sep 29, 2015 - 01:42pm PT

neebee

Social climber

calif/texas

Sep 29, 2015 - 01:58pm PT

hey there say, all... i know a friend of a childhood friend, that does this... i knew it was dangerous, but wow--perhaps only the HALF of it...

say, another reason why supertopo is so great:
a wonderful thread here, full of info that any aborist should
pass on to another...

especially those seeking, here...

keep up the great work, and kindness to share...

bushman and mouse:
i love and cherish such a mentor story...

say, timid, did not know you did this...

and norwegian, we all wish you best, as always, as you tackle those
trees...

was good to 'meet' these other aborist, here, too, from the climber-realm...

learn a lot here, for sure...

(say, does everyone that does this, have to be certified... i was just curious)...

Bushman

Social climber

Elk Grove, California

Sep 29, 2015 - 03:34pm PT

The Lofty Toll

The harness and familiar smells
Of lather dried on saddle worn
Of leather and old blanket wool
Familiar to his waking dreams
He wakes to wipe encrusted eyes
With yawned anticipation
Before dawn the hunt for breakfast
Or coffee's search in gathering light

At five hours the operation
Though rote for him the task
Implacably extolls
And surgically extracts
From knees and burning ankles
And pound for pound from tingling flesh
The climbers lofty toll
To woodland trolls of days of old
He thought he saw them go
Among the sunlit canopies
The pixie or a winged gnome

Exchanging risk for his existence
The day to day distractions
Without a word he flips his line
To a second winded gathering
With no heightened expectations
Or the daylight left a burning

He moves tenaciously with skill
Among the sawdust floating
Entangling with his essence then
Blended and infused
With sulfurous smells exuded
From legumes and some mustard greens
All synthesized through sweat soaked grime and
Broadcast with vaporous pheromones

The mortality of the man
Though lofty be his perch
All wrapped with intent
And entwined with limitations
Then filtered through warm ripened sweat
And the salty waste encrusted grime
Of what was once his T-shirt
And the amalgamated deposits
In musty rings about his neck

As the climber spikes and set his gaffs
And weighting flipline settles back
To fire his trusty chain saw
With a cracking ripping growl
Through trunkwood perched some ninety feet
A felling rounds with straining grunts

This effluence of labor's scent
Effects a natural repellant
On swarms of wasps and carpenter bees
To safety scurry centipedes
It holds arachnids fast at bay
And dispassionately dispatches
Brown widows to the air

And afterwards at home
The boots come off exposing those
Wiggling breathing toes
Hot water falls like liquid gold
And days are soon forgotten
Though some paid well enough
But the climbers lofty toll
A price to trolls of days of old
He thought he saw them go
Among the sunlit canopies
The pixie or a winged gnome

-bushman

ß Î Ø T Ç H

Boulder climber

ne'er–do–well

Sep 30, 2015 - 08:57pm PT

gracias

Norwegian

Trad climber

dancin on the tip of god's middle finger

Oct 1, 2015 - 03:46am PT

bush my mate
had a fox jump
into his lap,
at about 50 feet.

feralfae

Boulder climber

in the midst of a metaphysical mystery

Oct 1, 2015 - 07:34am PT

Bushman,
Lofty Toll: evocative, inspiring, playful.
Thank you
feralfae

mouse from merced

Trad climber

The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.

Oct 1, 2015 - 07:51am PT

Ah, Bushman's pen is mightier than his chainsaws.
While norwegian's own little charms and chants
Keep him safe while workin' & shittin' his pants.

zBrown

Ice climber

Oct 6, 2015 - 07:00pm PT

bump

zBrown

Ice climber

Oct 6, 2015 - 07:34pm PT

^Photos?

hooblie

climber

from out where the anecdotes roam

Oct 6, 2015 - 08:01pm PT

i thought i had found gold !!! a dozen rounds of blue gum as wide as my subaru dumped like mobster drops on a bootleg backroad. returned with a truck and various mauls, grenades, wedges, axes and bars. those rounds were less than a foot thick and hard enough to repel every stroke except the hammered on axe head that at one point i considered leaving behind. got back to the house lighter than i left the place by about a quarter tank

Norwegian

Trad climber

dancin on the tip of god's middle finger

Oct 8, 2015 - 05:44pm PT

i shoulda been in a boom today,
but alas no access so i ascend
the 60' live oak with
a 2/3 rainbow arc draped
over a house, deck and
expensive landscaping.

as there are no trees above me,
i am afforded no top-rope.

just me and my flip line.

so i first attach my bull-line
to a staunch tree some 100' feet
off, at deck level,
and tow the other end up with me.

i get to the summit
of the rainbow and i straddle
it, totally cowboy style
with my spurs kicked back
into her belly.

i lash my end of the bull-line
to the trunk, affecting
a basic zip-line,
and then i sling the top,
and attach it to the zip-line.

then i, with moderate trepidation
and excessive caution,
lop the top onto it's slide.

the thing engages and my
bull-line acts like a force-
amplifier on the tree
beneath my legs.

rowdy.
i rodeo it out,
literally like on a bull.

the top slides down
and softly lands well
beyond harm.

i lob another few branches
onto the system,
and then i proceed
to cut down the trunk,
firewood length
from the top-down.

all-in-all an hour.

800 bucks.

but man i was scared.

Norwegian

Trad climber

dancin on the tip of god's middle finger

Oct 17, 2015 - 07:13pm PT

i pull into the driveway,
weary.

my broken poetry
inked on my tailgate
presents to the
established crew
sitting on the hill
as i back the truck
into an empty space.

i'd been contracted onto this
job for two trees.

two dead pondorosa pine; victims
of beatle-mania.

my trees stood boldest
among a 10 pack
of other dead pines;

all squat cozy up
next to a nice home.

i slowly get out of my truck,
as i've been in the saddle
alot lately, and i gotta
will my limbs into action.

a round of grunts and nods
greets me and i return
the salutations with a fervor
of excited sentiment.

as i don't see much
social opportunity, i suit up.

the other climber, the one
whom hired me (for my liability insurance, i assume)
gets roaring machines out
of his oversized dodge.

his gear is tits.

mine? ain't so much.

my main climber saw is in
the shop, so i'm using
my backup 201t, that
runs a friendly tune,
sounds a little like
pussy-farts.

the other climber's 200t obviously
has no guts left in the exhaust
and screems banshee.

ah well. get-to-job.

i launch up my 32" pole
and go the races, staying
just one-stride ahead of leg cramps.

these are my nemesis
and have motivated me
towards optimum efficiency,
in the trees.

i launder the trunk of branches,
climb hight into the remaining
top and come back down removing
branches from one side
to ensure the favor.

i cut into a 40' top
and it drops a 150' down
into a small yard.

over the across the way,
the other, republican climber
(according to his no-bama bumper
stickers) is working away on
one of the easier trees.

his is like 100' tall, 40'
from the house, and maybe 20" diameter.

he goes up and then comes down;
all according the the Stihl
anthem raming thru
all silence near and far.

but he doesn't top it?

he mutters something about
interference and i don't
really care, i got to go
get my 28" bar
and chunk out my trunk.

the other climber heads up
a tree not to far from where
i'm perched.

he's gleaming in
gadgets, shiny boots
metal hard hat,
top of the line spurs
and he repeats his
earlier show.

up. then down.

i ask him why he didn't
top it?

my flip-line slipped,
was his warrior-cry.

f*#k it.

i get paid.
tell them that they
need to move the propane tank
before i fall my other tree,
and leave.

i'm left to
generalize that all
republicans are show;
and grandest
at presentation,
and when their heart
looks for courage,
the don't find it
and hire a democrat
instead.

(caveat: i've obviously
no substance behind my
silly claim, the fella
that mentored me
might very well be
a republican and he's
all action, very little
talk and not one for
bumper stickers.
i was just pumped
by their facade and
then their jest
at the poetic boy
in girls pants who
holds a self-issued
literary license
that magnifies
his wee-courage)

edit to add
the dumb, alcoholic-on-hold
democrat was too
scared to remove
the second tree
above the live
propane tank)

thebravecowboy

climber

The Good Places

Oct 17, 2015 - 08:27pm PT

You climb dead trees?

You'd better be wary of them snakes in dog's dresses.