Library (Part 3): Dropping the poles

The design I drew for my cabin (“library”) called for two parallel beams about 10 inches off the ground, 8 feet apart. They would each be supported by three posts — one under each end and one in the middle.

I remember locating some retired creosote-soaked power poles in a field north of town. I found someone willing to haul them to my family’s house and cut the 10-to-12-inch diameter logs into roughly 4-foot segments with a diamond-encrusted chainsaw blade.

Who did that? Don’t know. This was 30 years ago. I do remember the man cutting the poles under a pine tree, but I don’t remember who he was. This was one of my first public “dealings” as a young person. I made these plans on my own, asked for help, and made it happen. But someone was generous because I don’t recall paying for any part of that.

Incidentally, I recall that about this time—at 16 years old—I drove my old, blue Toyota Corona to the Park Cafe in Braham, Minnesota, and—by myself—found a table, ordered from the menu, ate, and paid for my own meal. I went in a child and left a full-fledged adult.

My building site couldn’t have been anywhere else. It was a round hill with a view of our sledding hill, fields, a pond, and a cattail marsh. I would situate my building to face a stand of quaking aspen. The hill was wreathed in sumac that marched up the hill each year and turned crimson red in the fall. The site was out of view of the house and not too far to hear the dinner bell.

The log segments were extremely heavy. Looking back, I should have strapped them to a furniture dolly for the trip down the steep hill in the woods and up to my hilltop site. Instead, I bear-hugged and manhandled six of those probably 100-pound logs down the trail. I remember having some lingering back pain in the weeks after that and you have to wonder if lower-back aches today didn’t start that day?

It must have been exhilarating to have six foundation logs and two horizontal beams ready for construction on that hill. I don’t remember. I would have to get all six posts in the ground in the pattern of a “six” dominoes tile. Not a parallelogram, but squared up in the corners. I don’t remember if I used string or a Stanley tape measure but I’m sure I didn’t know the handy 3-4-5 rule yet. This was 1993 and I didn’t have a phone in my pocket.

I do remember digging the hole for the first post. It was sandy soil, so digging was fast. Without a thought, I dropped the post in the hole that was only slightly wider than the post itself. To my dismay and puzzlement, the top of the post was exactly level with the ground — not the 4-inches protrusion I had hoped for. The easy solution would be to shovel four inches of soil back in the hole, but the post now comfortably occupied the “whole” space and there was no hope of getting my arms around it and pulling it up even if I had the strength.

It was a proud moment for me and the first of many problem-solving moments when I tied a slip knot in a rope and looped it around the end of the log. I tugged and the sandy beast emerged! Chastened, I put four inches of soil back in the hole—and I’m sure I carefully measured this time before dropping it back in place.

I don’t remember any of the other posts going in, but I know I didn’t cut any posts (I couldn’t have without a chainsaw) and I didn’t add shims on top to meet the horizontal beam. So I must have got them all exactly right which probably meant dropping them in and pulling them out until they were perfect. Digging them a little deep and shimming the tops level under the beam makes the most sense now, but that’s hindsight.