Cutting the wood in Itteren

Out for a Sunday drive with friends, we came across a street festival in the village of Itteren, flush against the Belgian border north of Maastricht.m  These are common across the Netherlands in summer, a chance to drink beer, listen to music, and enjoy the sunshine.

In this case, the center of attraction was a stout oak log mounted on a trestle outside the main tavern.  For a small chartable donation, brawny contenders could take the return at a cross-cut saw, slicing off a round from the end of the log.  Best time gets a silver trophy; worst gains a scarecrow.

Being from the Land of Tall Trees in the Pacific Northwest,  felt a kinship with the competition, and the barker offered a half price go since  had only one good leg.  Being an American, unusual in the area, was icing on the cake.

My friend Will and  took our positions and they set a groove to start the cut.    took a full-frontal stance to keep my weight off the recovering leg, which lost me both leverage and balance, the saw immediately popped free with the first push.  The referee, put a firm hand on top, holding it n place as we started to cut down through the log.

It’s  harder than it looks.  Much.

First, there was the problem of the saw curling with each push. The answer, suggested by the woman with the microphone, was to only pull.  Things improved immediately.

The blade still sank slowly through the log.  One minute.  Will and  tried to rock the blade a bit, pulling down and through.  Sawdust flew, I think we were at the center of the log.

 

Two minutes.  The exertion is causing my stance to decay.  Still, the chord of the log shrank with every cut.  Progress became quicker, the round wobbled.  The woman suggested that rest breaks were allowed; we redoubled.

Finally, a last heave, and the round popped off: 2:59.  We broke the three-minute mark, at least, securing a second-to-last finish (someone else scored a 3:14). The winner was about 50 seconds: I was awarded a specially signed round and we took a beer into the shade to watch how it’s really done.

   I think, in fact, I see the stance, the angle, the technique.

       I’m dreaming, already, of next year’s glory…