Moving cordwood: don't underestimate the tortoise principle

Joe has been hauling the cordwood from the cutting site to the building site. Via rather small tote sleds, without the help of a snowmobile, horse, or even our Newfie. Why? Here is how our decision process went:

We want to begin the cordwood infilling as soon as possible in the spring. Cool, we thought; we'll order sand and lime and be ready to roll as soon as hard frosts have passed. We'll have to allow time to bring the wood over from the cutting site . . . which will mean driving the truck to the cutting areas where the wood is stacked . . . the access roads to which are not likely to be dry enough to drive over till June . . . aarrrgghhh, another flaw in the plan. Better to get the wood out now, while the ground is frozen and snow-covered.

Our first idea was to get the wood out with a borrowed snowmobile and tote sled. Sounded good, but not a viable option for the landowners, since our snowmobile tracks would very likely have had the effect of quickly incorporating their land into the ITS system and attracting every sled for miles around. We finally decided that we'd try the long slow route of hauling wood out with hand-pulled sleds, one small load at a time. When we made the decision, we figured that we might only get a third of the wood out before spring, but that would still give us a jump on building and Joe had some time this winter.

What we didn't expect was the progress that can be made with slow, steady effort. With a good pair of snowshoes, as well as some much-appreciated help from Isaac, Joe has already moved two-thirds of the cordwood from the cutting site to the building site five miles away---including setting up wood racks inside the Sunnywood frame---with a plastic sled, a homemade wooden sled, and an small pickup. This has been a lesson in the value of incremental but consistent expenditure of energy (and way cheaper than a membership at the gym). We have also learned that low-tech solutions can sometimes be very effective: having done this, Joe doesn't believe that using a snowmobile would have been any faster, or that much easier. It does help that the wood has already been drying for a year, so it is considerably lighter than the first time we handled it.
Loading sleds:


Working against gravity:


Working with gravity!:


To Sunnywood:


Inside to stay good and dry:

"You'll be able to heat this place with a candle"

We tarped (does this qualify us for bailout funds?) Sunnywood for the winter back in November, since the post and beam structure currently has no infilling. Here it is, complete with the nifty tarp door Joe built into the east side. So the silver tarp, on the high side, is facing magnetic south,* more or less: this is where most of the glazing will go. More than one person has said to us, upon hearing the details of our design, (particularly the 18-inch-thick cordwood walls), "You'll be able to heat the place with a candle!" Well, we have been inside the house when it was slightly above zero and extremely windy, but sunny. And even with only tarps for walls, it was comfortable enough inside to shed gloves, hats, and an outer layer or two, and eat lunch comfortably. (And also cheerfully bright!) So when I think about adding 18 inches of cordword, mortar, and sawdust insulation, I think maybe those people were right. It appears that our siting and orientation will prove very effective. I also think the earth berm that Nick-the-excavator decided to build behind the house, on the north side, was a wonderful idea. It helps block the north wind tumbling down the slope. There's this wonderful little microclimate around the house, in part because of the berm.

*Wrong: we actually corrected for the magnetic declination and so used "true south." Thanks to my good friend Steve for questioning me on this.