The first time it happened, I completely missed the significance. Indeed, I thought Jean was being a bit assertive in handling her saw. She was not going to let me take it to cut out a limb on a downed tree on Winberry Divide trail. We were both underneath a blown down tree that we didn’t have the saws to deal with but could address the branches, so that others could more easily go through underneath, and it would save the sawyers some time in not having to limb it. I asked her for her saw, and she wouldn’t give it to me. Jean cut out the branch on the log above our heads, put the saw away, and everything was fine.
I have done many hikes with Jean and usually took my saw to deal with such issues. True, from time to time she would cut out something because I wanted her to, like on Marianne Way in Gold Lake Sno-Park last year and the year before, where I had her cut out a 4 inch log. It wasn’t like I had to cut everything, but I did more than my share, although I didn’t appreciate that fact.
We had nothing else to deal with that day on Winberry. Some time later, we were cutting out branches and small logs on the South Willamette trail, and there were no issues, because all of us needed our saws to work on the logs.
It was the next time on that trail almost exactly a month after Winberry that Jean showed up with a saw and a scabbard, a set up that I immediately realized I wanted, because my scabbard didn’t attach to me and didn’t fit the saw, either. We had a branch to cut, and as I took my pack off to get my Corona, I saw that Jean was already dealing with the branch. The lights went on. I’m slow to get things, but given enough time, I finally found my way,
Jean was ready. Indeed, she had long been ready, long before today. It was I who had not been. She could deal with these branches as well as I— better, perhaps— and in any case, my job was to stand by to help as a swamper so that her sawing would be easier. The rest of the day, I never touched my saw. If we had a branch to cut, I held it and Jean cut it. Wow, I didn’t have to cut. We were now equals with the saw, assuming she was not better than I.
Four days later, we scouted Shotgun Creek on BLM land. I thought I had forgotten all my gloves (I had a pair in my pack as I almost always do, and didn’t look), so my hands were bare. Every branch was Jean’s unless the cutting was such that two people needed to do it. I kept my gloves off as she cut out about 8 or 9 small logs. Sure, I held a log up to make it easier for her to cut, but that is what a swamper does.
As we finished Shotgun Creek trail and began to climb up Drury, it soon became clear that the volume of smaller logs was too much for any of us to cut, and our job was to scout the trail primarily, which was going to be a far longer job than any of us wanted if we removed every small log. Mind you, we were all throwing large branches off the trail when they blocked us, but even those were becoming a problem. I told Jean not to bother cutting any more, and she agreed, which told me that not only I had done the right thing, but she understood the situation, too. She could cut well, and she had good judgment, too. I finally admitted to her and apologized on the downhill side of Drury trail that I had been too slow to recognize what had transpired first at Winberry, but I now knew enough to let her do the work. She will tell me if she needs help. She also has the judgment to know when to stop cutting out everything when we are scouting. She is ready for B-certification, even leading a crew, although the latter may not something she wants to do. She has showed me for a long time that she is capable of doing all the sawing I can and will continue to do so, probably better, when I soon age out of the work. She will teach the next person. If I stay around long enough and have another under my wing, maybe I can understand when to let go sooner. At some point there has to be a first time for everybody, and while they may not be as perfect as you might be, they will learn more from their attempt than they will if you hover over them commenting on or doing the work they are doing. I learned that in medicine, and I learned it again on the trail.
Boreal B[l]og 
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