Worked on the old bunkhouse yesterday. Got some good stuff done. Felt good. But pretty tired. Headed home.

“Hey, Dave, still lookin’ for high-floaters for your firewood?”

My neighbour and co-worker on the bunkhouse, Drake, had called out to inform me that he had a couple of ‘nice ones’ on the beach in front of his place. So, I drove around to have a look.

“Yep. Looks good. But I am tired now. And the tide is not high enough. I’ll do it tomorrow. Z’at OK with you?”

So the next day I arranged for Sal to come up to the bunkhouse at quittin’ time. She brought the peavey, some dogs and tow ropes and my chainsaw in her boat. We all met at the work site and then headed to the dock. Then we headed to the neighbour’s beach. Me in my boat. Sal in hers.

Of course our own dogs, Meg and Fid bounded along totally confused by having both boats present. They finally got in Sal’s little 12 foot Whaler.

The logs were about ten feet up the beach. Drake took the peavey and wrangled for a bit but eventually I cut it in half and a big chunk of log rolled into the sea. While I was standing there on the beach I saw an old sea-washed plank that had that ‘beach-look patina’ we all prize so much out here (I have no idea why). It was an old rough hewn 2 x 8, sixteen feet long. I tossed it in after the log.

“Yo, Sal, ya wanna get a ‘dog’ on ’em and stand off with your boat while we lever the next two pieces in?”

Sal was chatting with Drakes wife. Of course, they had to finish their conversation first. Our dogs were running around with their dog and had to be herded up and reloaded. Then Sal morphed into Relic the beachcomber and got to work.

She jumped in her boat and took off after the log we had just set loose. She got it. Then she leaned over the bow and hammered in a ‘dog’ (not Fid or Meg but a log dog, a thick, short and tapered spike with an ‘eye’ in the top to take a rope). After that, she tied on a line with a bowline and went for the plank. She repeated the process and had two large chunks of wood in tow.

“Let ’em float loose! We need you in close to shore now. Can’t get this one. Need you to tow while we lever it!”

So Sal let the two ‘dogged’ pieces go and slid in close to shore. She drove another ‘dog’ into the log end that was already in the water while Drake and I continued to work it from the beach end.

She tied a line to the ‘dog’ and fastened it to her forecleat. Then, slowly, she took up the slack. While still in reverse, Sally slowly cranked the throttle to full-tilt and, with our prying and levering, the big log started to slide into the water. The sea boiled as Sal’s 25 hp outboard roared for all it was worth and her boat skitted slightly left and right pulling on the log. A few minutes later we had three good logs and a big plank avec cachet all tied up and waiting for a tow to go home.

We waved goodbye and took the logs two miles down the coast to the lagoon behind our house. Sal towed two and I towed two. Took almost an hour. Once there we tied them up for later hauling up on the high-line. Probably tomorrow.

In the lagoon Sal leapt ashore and took all four of the lines. She tied them to the anchor we have and then nimbly jumped back in her boat. Fiddich mirrored her every move. We then took our boats to the dock and tied up.

“C’mon, Relic, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”