Smoke started curling out of the hole where I was drilling. The drill hadn’t seemed to work right from the start, requiring my pushing it more than I should have. Finally, my effort produced no further movement but plenty of smoke, so I pulled the drill out, noting removal was easy.
“Something’s wrong with the drill,” I said.
“Try this one,” Sig gave me another drill. I had no trouble at all.
We were working on the bridge over Salt Creek not far from the falls. The bridge was about 60 feet long with a 45 degree curve on the west side. This bridge construction I worked on more than our first one at Indian Creek along the Middle Fork, where I did necessary grunt work of moving logs and debarking cedars. Here, I cut the rails, drilled holes for the posts and support structures, and using a high noise impact driver to put in the screws and toe nails holding everything together.
We had cut the logs down in the valley, where there was Western redcedar, covered the logs near the road with boughs to hide from poaching until we got a trailer from the Forest Service, then eventually moved 35, minus 3 or 4 that were stolen anyway, into a trailer. We drove 20 miles up to the falls, where we unloaded them by the parking lot. I moved thirty of them one day a couple hundred yards to the work site, using a dragger Jim had rigged up. Some logs I just put over my shoulder and carried. My step counter showed 7 miles’ hiking that day without ever leaving a circle of 200 yards radius. I worked closely with Jim and Sig, learning about bridge construction during the nine outings I had there.
There was nothing wrong with the drill. It ran just fine. But it was in reverse and I as I pushed it in, the friction became intense enough to ignite the wood. I suspect Sig knew but didn’t want to embarrass me. Before using a drill again, I had discovered the little button that changes gears and turned the drill on briefly to ensure it was turning clockwise. It was a rookie mistake. I later graduated to where I had to figure out how to remove and replace the battery without asking anybody or taking too long.
Bridge work is a team effort.
About a year later, I volunteered in Cottage Grove for Huerta de la Familia, developing the seventh garden in the region for Hispanic families to grow their own food. My first trip there, the group was putting in fence posts, My job was to fill a wheelbarrow with gravel and take it to each of 35 such holes, where the gravel was mixed with the ever present mud to surround the post. There was another outing there recently, and I decided to go, despite the accurately forecasted rain, in full rain gear which I define as wearing enough clothing that one can’t tell if it is raining.
I was first to arrive, low clouds, spitting rain, not getting lost like I had the first time, and as I went out on the plot, Gloria, as she introduced herself, held a Ridgid cordless 18V power drill.
“Hi,” she said. “Do you know how to use this?”
Music to my ears. Oh, indeed I do, Before Salt Creek, I might have asked what it was. Nonchalantly, I said, “Yes, no problem,” as if I had that, a few yellow DeWalts, and a Stihl power brusher 25.2 cc one cylinder motor in my garage next to my Husky saw. Gloria didn’t need to know my past ignorance. It reminded me of being abroad on an overnight flight when the crew needed English speakers to sit by the emergency exit, which happened to have great seats. The flight attendant looked at me, and asked, “Do you speak English?”
Oh, indeed I do. “Like a native,” I replied, drawing out all the words.
My job in the rain was to remove the multiple screws that held the planks and slats of several elevated garden plots so we could remove them. The job would require removal of upwards of 75 brass PowerPro brass Torx screws, many of which were so tightly bound I had to use the whole drill as a screw driver just to break them loose. I didn’t notice the rain, only my gloves getting progressively wetter. I was one with the Ridgid. I even helped Jean change a bit; all I had to do was vigorously unscrew the chuck.
The job was right up my alley, for all I had to do was to remove screws, so I used reverse the entire time. Piece of cake.
See you on the trail
Boreal B[l]og 
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