By Ted Shannon
I put “Big Red” in 3rd gear, advanced the throttle to about 3/4 speed, and let out the clutch, intending to yank the 30 inch or so diameter, 40 foot long, Redwood log onto the skidroad. The log, for some reason, proved unexpectedly reluctant to budge, almost stalling Big Red’s engine. I was just pushing in the clutch when the log broke free, shot across the skidroad and onto a down sapling, further diminishing the little resistance impeding its downhill rush. the arch followed the log of course, and as it tipped over, I thought, “Oh shucks, not again.” The reader can correctly surmise that this was not my first over-turn-the-arch procedure.
But this day was to be far from routine. The arch came down hard, jacking the rear end of the TD-24 (Big Red) off the ground. My left hand was on the winch-brake lever and I could (and should) have avoided disaster by releasing the brake, but we catskinners did not usually release the winch-line cable because our chokersetters then had to drag the gnarly cable back to the tractor . . a tough task sure to draw their ire. So I hesitated. . . and the next thing I knew, I was holding onto the brake lever to keep my body inside the cage as Big Red went over the side upside down!
As previously noted in my sad tale, “The Day I Snapped Fred’s Cable,” I was a logger for Union Lumber Company in Fort Bragg, California from 1955 through 1959. That story ended where this begins: my promotion (?) to operating a “wheelcat.”
A wheelcat is a tractor which pulls an arch. For the edification of the reader who doesn’t have the foggiest notion of what an arch is: an arch is a piece of equipment designed to lift one end of the logs off the ground, thereby reducing friction and allowing bigger “turns” (loads) of logs to be brought into the landing. There are three arches on display at the Sierra Nevada Logging Museum site at White Pines; a mix of tracked and rubber-tired arches.
Union Lumber had converted most of its arches from tracked to rubber-tired. Like so many things in life, each type had advantages and disadvantages. The rubber tires, though huge (WWII bomber tires) weighed less and produced less friction than tracks, so pulled easier. Their major shortcoming was they were less stable, and therefore overturned more readily than tracked arch.
Overturning the arch was neither a rare event nor was it a real big deal. They were built tough to take abuse, and could be righted fairly easily. The chokersetters unhooked the choker(s) from the log(s) which had upset the arch. (Usually, not always, a log rolling on a hillside was the culprit.) The chokersetters then attached the winch line hook to a short loop of cable on the arch’s axle, and the arch was winched right-side up. The chokersetters placed the choker eyes back on the hook, gave the catskinner dirty looks, and motioned him on his way.
Union Lumber operated four sides at this time and operated a mix of Caterpillar and International tractors. There were 13 Cat D8s, 4 D7s and 9 International TD24s. There were 2 wheelcats per side. . . all TD24s as I recall. The Internationals (Cornbinders) were bigger, heavier, faster, more powerful, and easier to operate than the D8s. Caterpillar came out with a more competitive tractor in the late 50s. Some say that the Cat was always more durable and reliable. On this I have no knowledge.
The Internationals were painted red. They had twin exhausts and the so-called mufflers were probably little more than spark arresters. . . which is possibly part of the reason that I don’t hear too well today. They had a four-speed transmission with a two speed planetary on the final drives. . . a total of eight speeds forward and reverse. The planetaries had separate controls for each track, providing full power to both tracks in turns by running one track in high range and the other in low. This was a truly superior feature. With Cats of the era, power to the inside track had to be disconnected to make a turn. Under a hard pull, the outside track would claw futilely for traction. Much commotion, little forward motion.
I nicknamed my Cornbinder “Big Red.” It wasn’t really mine of course, but Union Lumber let me operate it as long as I kept the logs coming in. I started running wheel-cat in 1957. I believe that my pay was $2.60 an hour. When I quit at the end of the 1959 logging season, I was getting $2.80 per hour. . . top pay for a Catskinner at Union, and good money at the time.
In 1958, I was in my second season on a wheel-cat and had become a pretty good operator. I was still allowing my arch to get upset on occasion, but logging steep ground can lead to unexpected tribulations, such as overturned arches, and, much more rarely, overturned tractors.
All that usually happened was a little jolt when the arch hit the ground.
The bulldozer operator was “punching” a new skid road and I was pulling logs as he reached them.. We were on a steep sidehill on a fairly steep downgrade.
“Go out to the end on the line and pull,” said Bob Evans, my old-timer head chokersetter and his second choke had just hooked me up to the log responsible for this tale.
Now, I wasn’t a know-it-all type, and normally followed bob’s instructions, but going out to the end of the winch line was time-consuming. After you let all the line out, you had to winch it in again. I had a better idea. “I’ll just give it a quick jerk onto the road.” Bob, it was plain to see, didn’t think much of my plan, but I was the catskinner.
Big Red slid down the hill upside down for what seemed an eternity, but was seconds in actuality. She only rolled onto her top, then skidded along on the roof and one track. I can still hear the sound of rocks and limbs scraping along during the descent. That would come later. All I can remember thinking is: “I wish this thing would stop.”
After she came to a rest, I remained inside for a few moments, partly to be reasonably sure she was going to stay put. Big Red’s engine was still running smoothly. I shut it off and climbed out, unhurt.
My chokersetters and the dozer operator had run down to check on me. Bob was apparently so glad to see that I was okay that he didn’t even say, “I told you so!”
Other than a few new scratches and losing her mufflers, Big Red was little the worse for wear. She was back on the job within a couple of days.
I got the rest of the afternoon off. Parker Ball, our hooktender, drove me to Fort Bragg where a doctor examined me. I was back to work the following morning, temporarily operating a replacement tractor.
There were no threats of my job being in jeopardy or accusations of stupidity. I am sure that the bosses believed that I had learned a lesson. Chalk another accident up to: “Operator error.”
