Wood Splitting Lesson

Fernando, the chef, was building a bank of coals to grille our evening meal.  Walking over to the wood pile, he selected a quarter-round of split log then placed it under his foot, aligning the axe directly towards his toe as he raised it over his head.  I thought: “This dude doesn’t know how to use an axe. He’s going to split his foot in two!”  The axe came down and split the wood perfectly while stopping four inches from his foot.  I walked over and I asked Fernando if his boots had steel toes. “Yes”, he said in Spanish, “for extra protection.” then laughed and walked off with his hands full of wood. It was everything I could do not to invite him back for a proper demonstration of how to safely chop wood when Monte, our guide born and raised on a farm in Wyoming, walked around the corner to find me staring at the wood pile with a slack jaw.  

I told Monte what I just witnessed, and he laughed heartily. “I remember the first time I saw a Chilean chop wood.” he said, then launched into a story describing exactly what I just saw and what went through my mind. “This wood doesn’t split like the wood we’re accustomed to splitting in North America.” Monte explained: “It’s grain is very different. It tends to deflect and chip at best and at worst stick the axe hard unless you give the axe a little twist with your wrist at just the right moment.”   

Monte then picked up the axe & a piece of wood to demonstrate the proper Chilean method of wood splitting.  Bracing the target wood under his foot, Monte choked his hands up on the axe handle while bending forward so that his stroke was certain to fall short of his foot.  Swinging down, he then gave the axe a ‘snap’ at the exact moment its head buried into the wood. It parted cleanly.   

Being two glasses of wine into the evening, I was not about to pick-up the axe to begin learning the practical aspects of this new method of woodsmanship. 

The next morning I did pick up the axe and attempt to split a seemingly innocuous, clear-grain piece of dry wood using the brute-force splitting method known all my life.  On one full-round log the axe buried itself and stuck, hard.  I then split kindling from quarter-rounds the way I was taught, using a safety stick to steady the wood on the block as I chopped with the axe, and, lo-and-behold, the kindling split cleanly.  Conclusion: WTF. I don’t need to put my toes in front of a sharp axe to chop wood. I get the same results I get at home; sometimes the wood splits, sometimes it doesn’t. 

About a half hour later I was watching Fernando grill meat behind the kitchen. The Andes towered above us.  The sun was setting. Several species of bird were in flight. Bird song was in the air along with the roar of the river. Fernando looked at me and said, with Spanish-accented conviction, a statement: “You are free.” As I was taking in this profundity he turned back to the grill and said ”So am I.”