Ups and downs of logging on Kings Mountain

The process of felling a giant redwood, often 15 to 20 feet in circumference, required teamwork and often a full week of time. The "fellers” would make a cut into the base of the tree so that when the tree fell, it would go in the direction they wanted. Then they would go to the other side and, using a two-man saw, would slice deeper and deeper into the living tree until they heard a loud cracking noise, followed by a groan that accelerated into a roar and ended in a tremendous thud that shook the earth. Then silence. Men called "barkers” peeled off the thick skin of the tree that had protected it for centuries against disease and fire. Tanneries would make use of the bark. The "barkers” also trimmed off the branches and cut the log into smaller sections. For extra-big trees that couldn’t be cut with the early saws, holes were drilled into ends of the log and packed with dynamite. That method wasted a lot of wood, but the resulting pieces could then be processed.

Transporting the logs to the mills and on to the Bay was a two- or three-day trip for each load. One method was to load up wagons with the logs. Another method was to line up and chain together logs on the ground single-file behind teams of oxen, at least four teams of two oxen each and often as many as eight teams, depending on how large the logs were and how many were lined up behind the animals.

Sometimes the trails were too slippery and sometimes too dry and dusty. A man called a "grease-monkey” would walk beside the convoy with a bucket of grease, rendered from the carcasses of worn-out oxen that had been "retired.” There were small logs called "skids” that had been partially sunk horizontally on the trail to hold the soil in place. This man would literally "grease the skids” to facilitate the movement of the large logs over the rough patches. Another man on the team was the "bull-whacker” whose job was to keep the oxen going. He used a goad- stick or whatever it took. A good bull-whacker knew each of his oxen by name and urged them on with his voice. For lighter loads, bark and shingles for example, horses were sometimes used to pull wagons. While oxen were stronger, horses were faster. Mules were both strong and fast, but only when they decided to be.

By the 1880s, a steam engine called a "donkey” was introduced, changing the way timber was processed. With some 60 horsepower and a noise level that could split eardrums, the "donkey” gobbled up 1,600 board feet of wood daily to keep the fire going under the boilers. The "donkey” allowed more trees to be cut and processed, but the steam-heated boilers had a nasty habit of blowing up, causing injuries and fires.

It took at least a day to get to the crest of Kings Mountain, Summit Springs. If Searsville had been just a wide spot in the road, Summit Springs was barely a spot, but it was a most welcome spot for loggers. They needed R&R, rest and refreshments. There was the Summit Springs Hotel and, of course, there was Honora King’s Mountain Brow House. She was famous for her chicken dinners and pies.

Frank King’s saloon was also well-attended. The men stayed over for the night. The next day, the men hitched up the oxen and began the long, slow descent down Kings Mountain Road. Bells on the oxen warned folks coming up the hill to look out for themselves as the logs and the wagons were almost impossible to stop. After reaching Woodside Store at the bottom of the hill, the pulling was then on a more level ground. Woodside Store was on the "dry side,” so the men were really ready for more R&R by the time they reached Whiskey Hill (sometimes called Last Chance). The next leg of the journey was to the embarcadero and by nightfall the logs were off-loaded, and the men rested or recreated as they saw fit. The next day they drove the oxen back up the mountain to get another load of lumber.

There are today some 350 households in the Kings Mountain area, people living far from the "madding crowd.” They enjoy the cool, clean air, the beauty of second-growth forests, the quiet ambiance, the give-and-take of like-minded neighbors. Of course, they also deal with isolation, severe weather and power outages. Some 45 years ago, a group of folks began a little arts and crafts fair, to be held every Labor Day weekend.

Over the years, the fair has grown and developed into a high-end exhibit of fine arts and superb crafts, and the population swells, temporarily, with outside folks making their way up the road to Kings Mountain for a little R&R of their own.