Most of the Gyo Logger’s during my dad’s days were a unique group of individuals who could make do with what was at hand and lived close to the edge. My dad could seemingly come up with a solution to any problem. I thought my dad was the smartest person alive, which I realize, runs counter to what most kids today think of their parents once they reach their teens. Give my dad a piece of haywire and a stick and he could fix just about anything. He was a genius at starting an engine regardless of what kind it was. If an engine wouldn’t start it was either a fuel or electrical problem. To check if an engine had a spark, just give it a crank with one hand while grabbing the spark plug with the other. No spark? Then, try a new plug and if that doesn’t work, check the points and it should run. It has a spark? Yes. Then remove plug, pour gas into spark plug hole, insert plug, and crank. She still won’t start; clean needle valve and it should run. Yes I still use most of the remedies to start a stubborn power saw or lawn mower, but I will never, take hold of a spark plug, I repeat never. I remember accidentally touching my arm on an exposed spark plug with the engine running and it felt like a mule kicked me in the arm.
I can remember coming home after school and quickly change clothes so I could go out and help dad and Roy working back of our house. Dad ran the steam donkey that had been converted to a gas machine and I helped Roy on the rigging. The guy on the rigging had to wrap the thirty-five foot chokers around the logs so the donkey-puncher could haul them into the water to be boomed up. After they were boomed into a Stewart raft the tug would come and tow them to a mill in town. It was always a high day when a boom was finished and sent to town, as that meant in a few weeks, the logs would be sold and dad would receive a check so Roy and the rest of us could be paid. It was always a hand to mouth existence for most Gyo loggers so payday was something to remember.
One of the neatest logging machines my dad eventually acquired, was an ancient crawler tractor for skidding logs, called a Caterpillar Sixty, to me it was so cool. Caterpillar last produced it in 1931 but there were still quite a few in existence back then.
I can still see it blowing smoke rings when it was first started. It would blow rings into the air, by the dozens and they would drift off endlessly.
To start the engine a steel bar called a Johnson bar, about five feet long was placed in one of several holes in the flywheel. The secret was to pull the bar with all of your might and spin the flywheel fast enough to start the engine. If the engine started the steel rod would disengage with out any mishap, but if the engine perchance back-fired, which it did from time to time, it would throw the bar against the large gas tank with such force that it would go flying and whoa to anyone standing in its way. I saw the bar go sailing past dad on enough occasions to conclude that it was not something I ever wanted to do.
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