As noted in my earlier article “Big Timber," logging was a major commercial activity in Anderson Valley for more than a century and had two distinct eras; the 1850s to 1920s, and the late 1940s to early 1960s. Most of the trees cut during these eras went straight to local mills to be turned into lumber, but there was an additional timber-based industry in the valley during both eras and even in the years between and after; the production of split stuff.
Split stuff was winding down during my years in Anderson Valley from the late 1950s through the late 1980s. However, some was still being produced, and my brother Aaron and I were — in a very minor way — involved.
What is split stuff? It is roughly hewn wood products created by splitting logs, like fence posts, grape stakes, rails and shingles. While also produced by splitting logs, firewood is not considered split stuff, likely because is burned rather than used.
The production of split stuff proved a smart adjunct to lumber milling during the “Big Timber” decades. It utilized smaller redwoods, which were ideal for this use and were in plentiful supply. Small (two or three-man) crews — and sometimes just an individual - made them on-site with a modest investment in equipment. Last, but not least, split stuff had a ready local market among ranchers and roofers.
The key was redwood. Redwood’s straight grain and limited knots make it easy to split and keep waste to a minimum. Redwood is soft, which makes it easy to cut to length, especially in the pre-chainsaw days, when such cutting was done with a crosscut saw. Redwood is light, which makes it easy to transport in finished form. Lastly, redwood split stuff is durable, resisting weather and rot like few other woods. With a bit of searching in the valley, one can still find grape stake and rail fences that have been doing their jobs for more than 50 years.
Production of grape stakes, fence posts and rails is fairly straight-forward. Redwood logs — usually from one to three feet in diameter — are selected for straightness and a relative lack of branches (hence limited knots), and cut to length: approximately 6 feet for fence posts and grape stakes, and approximately 12 feet for rails. After the branches are trimmed to the bark with an axe, the log is maneuvered to a nearby flat area. Then the bark is peeled off, either with an ax or — if well-equipped - a bark spud.
The splitting is done with wedges and a sledge hammer; one or two long wedges pounded in on the quarter — i.e. through the center across the grain - at the butt of the log and additional wedges pounded in along the length of the log at intervals in the opening crack. A long, straight crowbar is occasionally used to finish the split. After the initial split, additional splits are done the same way, though larger logs often require splits along as well as across the grain.
While my parents’ property in Anderson Valley had plenty of split rail fences when we arrived in the late 1950s, we had the good fortune not to have to make new rails. We had good neighbors to thank for this good fortune. Guy Lawler and Bill Worth were opening Highland Ranch as a resort in the early 1960s and asked if we wanted the rails from fences they were removing. My brother and I were considering fencing off a meadow near the family house as pasture for our 4-H cattle, so we headed up the hill with a tractor and trailer and hauled home 200 rails. We never fenced off that meadow, but we used those rails for years to replace those in my parents’ fences that broke from old age and abuse.
At one point we made redwood shingles to reroof our barn, though my primary job was stacking and hauling. Splitting shingles is slightly different than splitting grape stakes, fence posts and rails. The process begins with redwood rounds approximately 28 inches in diameter and cut to length (18-24 inches). After the bark is peeled, the round is split into quarters. The quarter rounds are then split on or near the quarter using a froe — a tool that consists of a horizontal medal bar sharpened on one side and attached to vertical a wood handle — and a wood mallet.
We acquired an old froe from somewhere and my brother took it to another neighbor, Don Van Zandt, to be sharpened. When he went to pick it up, Don handed him a new froe. “That froe of yours was no good, so I made you a new one,” he explained. Seventy-years-old when we arrived in Anderson Valley, Don had an impressive range of talents and skills, and we were lucky to have him as one of our neighbors.
The shingles we made for the barn were — well — eclectic. The lengths were fairly accurate, but the widths were all over the map. After my parents sold off the portion of their property that included the barn, the new owners replaced the barn’s shingle roof. I am pretty sure the roofing crew had a good laugh or two over our shingles.
Evidence of split stuff production was everywhere in the forested areas of Anderson Valley during our time there. When problems like spot rot or spiral grain were encountered, logs and rounds were simply abandoned. Being redwood, they stayed where they were a long time, unless someone hauled them home for firewood. I saw a few such half-split logs earlier this year, lying where they were abandoned more than 30 years ago.
During the Great Depression of the 1930s, there were split stuff poachers; people who made, hauled and sold split stuff from land that didn’t belong to them. Several years ago, my brother met one such poacher, who described the spot in Anderson Valley where he made split stuff. Ironically, the location was on the property my parents bought in the late 1950s! It’s a small world. ¥¥
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