#62 - An Ax and Simple Living
When I was 17 years old, I bought myself an ax. It was the first expensive tool I had ever bought. Not having a lot of money to burn in those days, it was also one of the first premeditated purchases of my life. I had an idea, and I made up my mind to get myself an ax.
The ax figured largely in a greater plan I had come up with when I and my family were away part of one summer. I wrote a letter to my best friend, Bruce, and suggested that we build a lean-to together when I got home. He and I were acknowledged nature boys and had spent a good deal of time fishing together or hunting and camping way, way back in the woods behind his place.
Those woods were a perfect setting for a couple of teen-age woodsmen. There were deep stands of hemlock, ridges covered with beech trees and a generous mix of old-growth white pine and hardwoods. There were caves, fields bordering on neighboring farms and, in the middle of it all, a swamp full of life and a brook that drained the whole toward a winding river. It didn't take much imagination to entertain ourselves with such resources at hand, and a focus of much of our attention was the wildlife we stalked and hunted.
We became especially adept at hunting crows, rabbits, gray squirrels and partridge. Over time no doubt, the wildlife in that neck of the woods looked upon us as regulars in the neighborhood. We were very much at home there, with our own range and territory, and it got so we felt a real need for a place to call our own - a lean-to under the pines by a certain bend in the brook. The spot was a favorite of ours; there was a pool there below a small waterfall. No other spot would serve our needs better.
So, I bought myself an ax with a 3-pound head and a 32-inch hickory handle. I was very proud of it. Bruce borrowed his father's ax out of his woodshed, and together we worked at building our home in the woods. It was a serious endeavor. We had a log-built structure in mind, a year-round shelter, and wildwood comfort was our aim. We chopped down small pine trees and sized all our timbers precisely, measuring with ax handles and hand spans. Every log was limbed clean and carefully notched so that when we were done, we’d have something to be proud of. There was a front sill, two logs high, to contain our bedding and to sit on. A waterproof roof would be critical we knew, so we cheated there with a scrounged-up canvas tarp, weighing it down carefully with flat stones. The lean-to took three days to build. It was a work of art. The final touch, of course, was a solid stone fireplace out front, with a cooking grate.
Fitted out in short order with a pot and a pan, two tin cups and a wooden boxful of critical stuff, this became the staging area for all our forays into the woods. We spent much time there, horsing around, and we ate and slept there many weekends throughout the year, finding it quite comfortable even after snowshoeing in in winter, when we built a high, reflecting wall of snow blocks around the back of the fireplace to reflect the heat toward the open side of the lean-to. I had to admit it was a bit frosty getting up the next morning, but we had all the kindling and dry wood it took to quickly warm up a couple of 17-yearold woodsmen. The brook provided for all of our drinking and washing needs and the waterfall was music for our ears. I do recall slab bacon and bacon fat played a big role in our meals; we not only ate it but used it to baste most of the game we shot. Though we bent the rules a little, robbing canned stuff and biscuits from home, we always ate well. Coffee and a couple of Phillies Cheroots at the end of a meal did it ~ all was at peace in the world.
The only thing Bruce wrote in my senior year book was, "Remember the lean-to," and I do. It was a way of life for a time, that lean-to, and all because I bought myself an ax. Still have it.