8 From Dawn to Dusk by Tyler Campbell

My father had always had me assist him in all his projects around our family property when I was young. We would build fence lines, horse corrals, chicken coops, and all other manner of homes, huts, and pens to keep our menagerie caged in. So, by the age of 12, I was looking to broaden my horizons and find work outside the purview of my dad.

After keeping my eyes peeled for employment meant for a boy my age, I saw a sign for help cutting firewood near where I lived. My dad accompanied me on my journey to the front door of a trailer home on the outskirts of a massive pile of cut and split firewood stacked at least one story high.

Shortly after knocking, we were confronted by a large, lumbering, and haggard figure. His bristling white beard matched his grey and grizzled voice. After hearing about my desire to learn the trade through gainful summer employment, he gave me a quick once-over and agreed to my proposal. I showed up at 6 a.m. the next morning, bright eyed and ready for a new adventure. I had no idea what an understatement that would turn out to be.

Before dawn, the old man and I were off in a centuries old cab-over logging truck. We drove northbound for hours through the twists and turns along the Payette River. Finally exiting the highway, we then started up a secondary path through the logging trails of the Cascade Mountains.

Nearing the afternoon, we finally arrived at our destination, the top of a steep ravine, whose side was covered in felled trees. With no explanation, he handed me what I now know to be a choker cable in one hand in addition to the cable leading from the truck itself in my other. I was directed down the side of the ravine.

As I began picking and prodding my way through the downed timbers, the old man began screaming all manners of profanity at me from the top of his surprisingly powerful lungs. Thinking something was terribly wrong, I turned back to ask him what was the matter. I quickly discovered he was commanding me to “run not walk” down the treacherous terrain of the mountainside.

Once I made it to a tree, too slowly to be sure, he demanded that I “choke that sumbitch.” I had not a clue what he was asking me to do. Again and again, he screamed, “Choke that sumbitch, CHOKE THAT SUMBITCH,” growing increasingly frantic.

Finally, he came sprinting toward me down the hill, his stunningly agile feet as fleet as any panther that has ever lived. His feet never touched the ground as he bounced from trunk to limb and back again. When he arrived out of breath and as furious as any man I’d ever known, he tore the cables from my grasp, knocking me off my feet. Swiftly, he wrapped the tree truck in question with one cable, hooked it to the other, and marched back up the hill. As I lay amongst the burrows, I knew I was in for a long day.

It was a long day indeed. Over the next 12 hours, he never relented, never was tired, and certainly never seemed pleased. I never thought in a million years the anger, power, and virility that a man that age could possess.

Through this experience, I learned to hang in there through the tough times and that not all things are as they initially appear. I also learned that I should be a little more discerning in my decisions and that even in the face of violence and anger, it is best to stay calm, stand tall, and carry on. Above all, I learned don’t ever go into the woods with a stranger without an alternative way home!