The day's ultimate goal was to thin out 2 mango trees whose limbs had overstepped their bounds and were casting unwanted shadow down upon dozens of hapless coffee trees (whose income potential is vastly greater than that of the lethargic mango trees). Unfortunately, a vast majority of the unwanted limbs located themselves at least 10 feet above the ground. No big deal, right? Well, the ground here is less than ideal for the bottom end of a ladder. Jagged protrusions of rock lift up from the "soil" in sizes that range from that of a marble to that of a well-fed cow throughout the uneven ground (the sides of the volcano Hualalai) upon which I needed to place the ladder. Therefore, ladder placements were half-assed and it wasn't until I was 10-15 feet above the aforementioned lava rock that I considered the consequences of a fall.
If you've not spent time walking on the lava rock, some of its properties are: Sharp. Very sharp. Don't fall on it or you'll be prone for days (at best). Shoes don't withstand the perils of lava rock incursions with any semblance of fortitude. Ouch. And it's blackish, some of it looking very much like brownies (to me).
If we ignore for the moment the decided lack of coordination that I've exhibited as of late (I really need to start stretching), my duties should have harbored no danger. Up a secure ladder, BZZZZZZ BZZZZZ goodbye limb, on to the next victim.
Unfortunately, on almost no occasion did I have a clear and easy shot at any of the limbs. The simplest limb required my right arm to cross my chest, its wrist (in line with the blade) jerked at a 90 degree angle. No worries, except that the limb under attack was as thick as my torso. The rest contorted me, sometimes on the ladder other times perched in the tree itself, being overrun with the ants that had infested the trees (not biters, fortunately, but incredibly large in number). Tricky, yes.
Mango wood. Not the sturdiest. Translation: the point at which limbs decide they're done waiting for the saw to finish slicing varied based on their size, age and temperament. Even making cuts from below before attacking from above ensured no predictable breaking point. At first I scoffed, not at all worried about repercussions of the instability of the wood. Until the first large limb broke early (thick as my upper leg), snapping off jaggedly and falling mostly to the ground except for the jagged part which "brushed" my leg and dug into the trunk 2-inches from my knee. And then there was the limb (big around as my calf) that swung down and back without fully detaching, crashing into the side of the already shaky ladder. Adrenaline! Woot!
Most of the day went fairly uneventfully, but like in the movies, bad things happen late in the day. After 5 hours of wielding a chainsaw, often above my head, my body ached. You could say I'm out of shape, and I won't disagree. The point is, Corey was getting tired.
The Limb was 15 feet up, jutting up sharply from the trunk and making it impossible to cut off its smaller branches without a cherrypicker. Thick around as my body, overhanging the lava rock wall between the coffee tree orchard and cow pasture. Getting the saw to The Limb required standing face-out on the ladder and reaching back behind and almost over my head to get under It, and leaning far out to the side to get at It from above. Every couple of minutes I had to stop and take a rest, my arms and legs shaking from the effort.
One of the three cows came over to stare up blandly, chewing its cud, immune to the woodchips cascading down upon its large orange head like snow it will never see. The other two cows remained across the pasture, raptly staring at the far wall.
The only negative of the upwards cut was short sharp pain in my twisted back. My tired legs rotated my cramping feet around on the rung of the ladder, the saw passing from one hand to the other, the free hand clutching spasmodically at the ladder. Repositioned, I began the down cut while The C and Our Boss held the ladder from below. Before The Limb moved I heard a rifle-like crack. The saw's chain spun to a stand still and silence wafted across the pasture. Nothing happened in the lull so the cutting re-commenced.
Tired as I was, my instincts didn't desert me. The next crack cascaded into a volley of cracks and snaps and far end of The Limb began to swing down in a looping arc aimed directly at the ladder. Trying to complete the cut in time to shunt the backswing I leaned nearly off the ladder and hung all my weight on the saw. In the instant before The Limb hit the ladder my hand released the trigger and the saw whirred to a silence unheard over the din of cracking limbs and wood and aluminum colliding. Fortunately the ladies had jumped shrieking out of the way, sheltered behind the tree.
Below me, La Vaca gazed upwards with rheumy eyes, showing no incomprehension of the situation as my feet found themselves recently unsupported in any way. A heroic fling sent the saw spiraling into the field doing no harm to anyone but a rock that looked vaguely like Christopher Walken, as I began my descent.
It's funny what springs to mind in such moments. I've heard of flashing life stories, but all I saw was a procession of Portland burrito carts. Is that the story of my life?
Down I went. An "oh my gaaawd," rent my ears and prompted me to think: "why are you screaming? I'm the one falling out of a tree." The blow of The Limb was such that momentum carried me beyond the wall into the pasture....and onto the back of the cow. Facedown on its not-so-soft spine. As I lay across its back, smelling dung, accosted by flies, the cow continued looking up into the tree. Finally realizing that something had happened, it turned back to look at me, still chewing its cud, blowing gawd-awful breath into my face, and emitting a soft "moo". A giggle escaped me until the damn cow bucked and tossed me onto a pile of small rocks which sunk into my side and back. Now deeply enthroed in a pique of violation, La Vaca let forth a stream of ex-plants that landed close enough to my head to splatter.
At this final insult, my "worried" co-workers fell into paroxysms of laughter while I lay bleeding and filthy in an open field.
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