This reminds me of when I was 16 years old and worked in the forest with my father in Hungary. We often cut down pine trees, leaving them in logs that were 4 to 7 meters long. After trimming the branches, we positioned the tractor next to them and manually rolled the logs onto the trailer. We placed two pine rods on the trailer and used them to roll the logs up. Since the wheels were higher than the trailer bed, we often had to lift the logs by hand. My father would push the front of the log down, while I used a rod to lift and guide it over the wheel. Many times, we also had to reposition the logs on the trailer because the 4.7-meter trailer couldn't fully accommodate the often 7-meter-long logs. Sometimes, I would hug the overhanging log from the back, squat down, lift its end, and move it aside. At 16, I was young, healthy, and as strong as an ox from the full days of physical labor. Often, we would get up at 4:30 a.m., and I would greet the first rays of the rising sun standing on the tractor trailer while my father drove. In summer, we went home for lunch by noon, after which I would take off my shirt and pants and nap in my underwear in the grassy yard of our family home. At 2 p.m., my father would wake me, and we would head back to the forest to work until 7 or 8 in the evening. In winter, the days were shorter, so I wore black tights under my pants to keep my legs warm, double socks with fur-lined inserts, and insulated boots. Over my shirt, I had a sweater and a thick jacket with a fur collar. Underneath the gloves, we wore waterproof coated gloves because regular ones would get soaked in the snow within a minute, but plastic gloves alone made our hands cold. This way, the thick gloves got wet quickly but stayed warm, while the coated gloves underneath kept our hands dry. In winter, we would light fires in the forest using pine branches, and my father would cook bacon that he brought from home over the flames. Nothing ever tasted as good as eating fresh fried bacon with fresh bread, even with oily and dirty hands. When I started smoking at 18 and forgot to bring matches, my father taught me a trick: he pressed the cigarette against the tractor's red-hot exhaust pipe, drew on it, and it lit up instantly. Now, 25 years later, as an engineer, I still long to return to those Alpine forests where we worked with so many trees. I can still smell the divine scent of freshly cut pine in my mind.
This reminds me of when I was 16 years old and worked in the forest with my father in Hungary. We often cut down pine trees, leaving them in logs that were 4 to 7 meters long. After trimming the branches, we positioned the tractor next to them and manually rolled the logs onto the trailer. We placed two pine rods on the trailer and used them to roll the logs up. Since the wheels were higher than the trailer bed, we often had to lift the logs by hand. My father would push the front of the log down, while I used a rod to lift and guide it over the wheel. Many times, we also had to reposition the logs on the trailer because the 4.7-meter trailer couldn't fully accommodate the often 7-meter-long logs. Sometimes, I would hug the overhanging log from the back, squat down, lift its end, and move it aside.
At 16, I was young, healthy, and as strong as an ox from the full days of physical labor. Often, we would get up at 4:30 a.m., and I would greet the first rays of the rising sun standing on the tractor trailer while my father drove. In summer, we went home for lunch by noon, after which I would take off my shirt and pants and nap in my underwear in the grassy yard of our family home. At 2 p.m., my father would wake me, and we would head back to the forest to work until 7 or 8 in the evening. In winter, the days were shorter, so I wore black tights under my pants to keep my legs warm, double socks with fur-lined inserts, and insulated boots. Over my shirt, I had a sweater and a thick jacket with a fur collar. Underneath the gloves, we wore waterproof coated gloves because regular ones would get soaked in the snow within a minute, but plastic gloves alone made our hands cold. This way, the thick gloves got wet quickly but stayed warm, while the coated gloves underneath kept our hands dry.
In winter, we would light fires in the forest using pine branches, and my father would cook bacon that he brought from home over the flames. Nothing ever tasted as good as eating fresh fried bacon with fresh bread, even with oily and dirty hands. When I started smoking at 18 and forgot to bring matches, my father taught me a trick: he pressed the cigarette against the tractor's red-hot exhaust pipe, drew on it, and it lit up instantly.
Now, 25 years later, as an engineer, I still long to return to those Alpine forests where we worked with so many trees. I can still smell the divine scent of freshly cut pine in my mind.
This is a great life story that everyone should live.
You're lucky.
This is the best comment I've ever read.
Thanks a lot.
Such an interesting process! I had no idea how much planning goes into cutting down trees safely
Ya ..... standing on top of a log pile which is being fed to a running chipper.
Darwins theory in practice ......
Watching these in action is so satisfying-amazing machines!
Very good 👍
Luar biasa alat pengolah kayunya....🎉❤ Salam kenal semua dari Indonesia
Thank you. Hello too
Sayang banget kayu bagus2 lurus2 cuma dihancurkan...
This is low quality lumber
geat video
Ракурс само то что надо спасибо
aussi courageux l'un que l'autre
Thank you
❤❤❤❤❤