I had recently watched an interesting series on You Tube entitled "Craft in America" featuring the late George Nakashima's woodwork. I won't go into many details as far as the documentary goes, but one of George's concepts in the art that he produced was the necessity for functionality, while still remaining simple yet elegant in form.
I think of the tree when considering this simple elegance. A stationary object, but yet look at an ancient tree and follow it's complex branching structure. The eye moves along, twisting and turning and swooping, not still in the least bit. Many processes are occurring all at once, internally and externally, horizontally and vertically, but our eye may only catch a slight flutter of leaves from a passing breeze. As with any great piece of art, the tree is also composed from a voracious system of many organic parts. It's form is obvious and hidden at once, it's function is basic sustenance.
The arborist and furniture maker have much in common I think, although different crafts, both depend highly on those functions of the tree. How wood is made and how wood is broken down, divided up and preserved. The form of the tree can determine a piece of furniture's bend and bow, it can determine how the arborist walks a limb or bounces momentarily cutting a piece of deadwood free. Of course, a tree's form is directly related to the function of support. When a tree can't support itself: it sheds, it shuts down, it compartmentalizes.
In return for the tree's inability to move as most understand movement, it has many dimensions to it's form, and somehow is able to move it's sculptors and caretakers along many lifetimes of craft. For the craftsman, there are many lifetimes in one ancient tree. The tree has not moved and yet many have moved along underneath it. There is a wisdom in that continuity that a tree internalizes, and I think that wisdom is uncovered by the woodworker. A lasting piece of art created from a lasting piece of nature.
So form and function should always be simple and beautiful. Easier said than done I guess. Just look to the tree. Place your hand on the rough bark of a Chestnut Oak or the smooth bark of a Beech and look upward into the great crown. An old adage is "heavy is the the head that lies the crown" but yet the tree makes it look effortless. That's real majesty. The balance, the strength and the tidiness of the branches should all be inspiring. The foundation and strength in which its rooted should be a reminder of what's important. The energy is transferred directly from that foundation outward, and the tree, by working for itself, works for all those around it. Like the limb walker and the sander of fine grain.
Thursday, November 3, 2016
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Rope.
Rope as a tool is direly underrated. Not literally, of course. And even moreso, the length of the rope in particular. Because of the vast array of tree architectures in terms of size and species, it is important to understand how a piece of rope can be applied to the crown of the tree in order to move through it. Too much rope and you're fighting a slack tending war and a sloppy tail. Too little rope and more moves are necessary to get out of the tree. Balance in rope length and application to a tree's specific character can lead to more efficient movement in the crown.
No matter the specific type of rope you run (double braid, 16-strand, kern mantle, etc.), think of the obvious height of the tree. Then consider the specifications of the work order. How many different areas will you need to establish a work position in so that the specs are satisfied? Have a vision for your movement from one task to the next, if you plan on leaving a redirect built from gear or natural crouching to an area for more work before descending, these things will determine how much rope is required to cover that space.
Consider the angles. Large, lateral redirects in the climbing system will eat up a bunch of feet, so give this kind of thing consideration when pulling a specific rope bag off the truck. Wide crowns, even though they may not be tall, can still require a lot of rope in order to achieve a comfortable working position that the tree's structure can handle.
The combination of different ropes making up a larger climbing system and retrieval scheme can certainly be an artful thing. Sectioning rope off either as a designated climbing line or designated retrieval line can simplify advancing a climbing system or creating an advantage for easier retrieval of the system once the climb is complete. Depending on what type of system is in use will determine how ropes are sectioned off and introduced into a plan.
As a contracting arborist it is important to be highly adaptable to wide array of situations in the field. Several different lengths of rope can make for an effective way at approaching different crowns. Experimenting with different systems can lead to more efficient work, and dialing in on just the right amount of rope for the job is definitely the sustainable choice when it comes to managing gear aloft. More planning to save on time and energy will go along way.
No matter the specific type of rope you run (double braid, 16-strand, kern mantle, etc.), think of the obvious height of the tree. Then consider the specifications of the work order. How many different areas will you need to establish a work position in so that the specs are satisfied? Have a vision for your movement from one task to the next, if you plan on leaving a redirect built from gear or natural crouching to an area for more work before descending, these things will determine how much rope is required to cover that space.
Consider the angles. Large, lateral redirects in the climbing system will eat up a bunch of feet, so give this kind of thing consideration when pulling a specific rope bag off the truck. Wide crowns, even though they may not be tall, can still require a lot of rope in order to achieve a comfortable working position that the tree's structure can handle.
The combination of different ropes making up a larger climbing system and retrieval scheme can certainly be an artful thing. Sectioning rope off either as a designated climbing line or designated retrieval line can simplify advancing a climbing system or creating an advantage for easier retrieval of the system once the climb is complete. Depending on what type of system is in use will determine how ropes are sectioned off and introduced into a plan.
As a contracting arborist it is important to be highly adaptable to wide array of situations in the field. Several different lengths of rope can make for an effective way at approaching different crowns. Experimenting with different systems can lead to more efficient work, and dialing in on just the right amount of rope for the job is definitely the sustainable choice when it comes to managing gear aloft. More planning to save on time and energy will go along way.
Monday, September 19, 2016
Competition.
"Compete (verb): strive to gain or win something by defeating or establishing superiority over others who are trying to do the same."
I copied and pasted this definition directly from a Google search of the definition for the word 'compete'.
As contracting arborists, we spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about 'the competition'. Whether it's our contracting competitors in a local market, our colleagues at chapter and international events, our co-workers, or just our own internal egos; competing is as embedded in the threads of arboriculture as is a sharp saw. Establishing superiority echoes in my mind especially when I read that definition, because this is everyone's dark little secret when it comes to competing. We celebrate community, we celebrate the industry and safety and sharing knowledge all the wonderful things that competing draws out, but the superiority thing gets consuming and ugly. The truth is though, rank is necessary for a number of reasons, not at all ugly in hindsight.
This year alone I've made it to four major events so far: The Charlotte, The New England TCC, Penn-Del TCC and JAMBO; and in a few weeks I'll be traveling to The Kentucky TCC. So five. I've spent well over two thousand dollars in travel expenses, and I've driven well over three thousand miles. I could sit here and talk about how happy and wonderful it is and all the great people I've met and the beautiful state parks I've stayed at and the beautiful parks we've climbed in and all the great people I've stayed in touch with, but I want to be honest and not sound cliche. I want the superiority, I want to be better than the other climbers, just like every other competitive climber out there.
When we compete, you go under the microscope. As climbers, there's no more hiding ugly technique or unsafe acts. For the most part, tree climbing competitions have proven to be MUCH safer than the working environment, because of that microscope. We have other experienced climbers and arborists judging, many familiar events and tasks that do emulate what we do for the most part, and at the end of the day, no matter how many pats on the back you got or pow wows you've been in, the numbers are what they are, and you're left to stand alone amongst your peers, in the order in which you've finished. Some people will never make it out of the bottom, some people will grip the title for years, and some will nauseatingly close.
This chase is extremely addictive in nature. It has a lot to do with ego, but I think at the core it's much more a trait of the perfectionist and the artist. As arborists we're tradesmen and women, and even more so we are crafts people, artisans if you will. If we can look at tree climbing as an art, I think it's easier to understand the competition as a blank canvas. With each new event is a new opportunity to create, even if it is fleeting, a masterpiece. Tree climbing is as much about imagination and creativity as it is about effectiveness and economy. It's a movement without fault, and there are a million moving pieces. When you watch the best climbers either at a chapter level or international level, it is something to envy. And there is no doubt the great ones are superior, dominant climbers that anyone could aspire to emulate.
Sounds a lot like a successful business to me.
There is no doubt that competition brings out the best in us. We become better, more effective arborists due to the fact of constantly trying to establish a rank better than the current. We are RE-motivated. We push ourselves on minute levels in order to gain all the points we can. Every single second matters, every single move counts, every single mistake adds up, and at the end of the day we're left to deal with that performance, like it or not.
Getting better means changing things. It's eating better, it's thinking better, it's climbing better, it's living better, it's a better rank, it's a higher place. So how can we not get better by chasing this goal of superiority?
Consuming as it is on the mind and on the body (and in some cases the wallet), it's such a perfect allegory for life. I think maybe we take ourselves a little too seriously sometimes when it comes down to me vs. you. But how can't we? After all, usually, even on a chapter level you have some of the best arborists in the area competing against each other. Each one of them is capable of many of the same tasks in the work place, where really it's mere seconds that separate them from 1st and 21st place. A half of a point may determine the best from second best. But if you think of it on the level of total accumulation, every day we work so extremely hard for those seconds and half-a-points, and when we obsess over it, those seconds turn into minutes that turn into hours that turn into days and weeks and years. So no matter if your 1st or 21st, I think it's important to keep striving forward, to keep getting points and seconds everywhere, because it's the masterpiece of our industry. Seconds and half points make good arborists great.
They say that competition is great for the consumer. I say it's great for everyone. Go win something today.
I copied and pasted this definition directly from a Google search of the definition for the word 'compete'.
As contracting arborists, we spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about 'the competition'. Whether it's our contracting competitors in a local market, our colleagues at chapter and international events, our co-workers, or just our own internal egos; competing is as embedded in the threads of arboriculture as is a sharp saw. Establishing superiority echoes in my mind especially when I read that definition, because this is everyone's dark little secret when it comes to competing. We celebrate community, we celebrate the industry and safety and sharing knowledge all the wonderful things that competing draws out, but the superiority thing gets consuming and ugly. The truth is though, rank is necessary for a number of reasons, not at all ugly in hindsight.
This year alone I've made it to four major events so far: The Charlotte, The New England TCC, Penn-Del TCC and JAMBO; and in a few weeks I'll be traveling to The Kentucky TCC. So five. I've spent well over two thousand dollars in travel expenses, and I've driven well over three thousand miles. I could sit here and talk about how happy and wonderful it is and all the great people I've met and the beautiful state parks I've stayed at and the beautiful parks we've climbed in and all the great people I've stayed in touch with, but I want to be honest and not sound cliche. I want the superiority, I want to be better than the other climbers, just like every other competitive climber out there.
When we compete, you go under the microscope. As climbers, there's no more hiding ugly technique or unsafe acts. For the most part, tree climbing competitions have proven to be MUCH safer than the working environment, because of that microscope. We have other experienced climbers and arborists judging, many familiar events and tasks that do emulate what we do for the most part, and at the end of the day, no matter how many pats on the back you got or pow wows you've been in, the numbers are what they are, and you're left to stand alone amongst your peers, in the order in which you've finished. Some people will never make it out of the bottom, some people will grip the title for years, and some will nauseatingly close.
This chase is extremely addictive in nature. It has a lot to do with ego, but I think at the core it's much more a trait of the perfectionist and the artist. As arborists we're tradesmen and women, and even more so we are crafts people, artisans if you will. If we can look at tree climbing as an art, I think it's easier to understand the competition as a blank canvas. With each new event is a new opportunity to create, even if it is fleeting, a masterpiece. Tree climbing is as much about imagination and creativity as it is about effectiveness and economy. It's a movement without fault, and there are a million moving pieces. When you watch the best climbers either at a chapter level or international level, it is something to envy. And there is no doubt the great ones are superior, dominant climbers that anyone could aspire to emulate.
Sounds a lot like a successful business to me.
There is no doubt that competition brings out the best in us. We become better, more effective arborists due to the fact of constantly trying to establish a rank better than the current. We are RE-motivated. We push ourselves on minute levels in order to gain all the points we can. Every single second matters, every single move counts, every single mistake adds up, and at the end of the day we're left to deal with that performance, like it or not.
Getting better means changing things. It's eating better, it's thinking better, it's climbing better, it's living better, it's a better rank, it's a higher place. So how can we not get better by chasing this goal of superiority?
Consuming as it is on the mind and on the body (and in some cases the wallet), it's such a perfect allegory for life. I think maybe we take ourselves a little too seriously sometimes when it comes down to me vs. you. But how can't we? After all, usually, even on a chapter level you have some of the best arborists in the area competing against each other. Each one of them is capable of many of the same tasks in the work place, where really it's mere seconds that separate them from 1st and 21st place. A half of a point may determine the best from second best. But if you think of it on the level of total accumulation, every day we work so extremely hard for those seconds and half-a-points, and when we obsess over it, those seconds turn into minutes that turn into hours that turn into days and weeks and years. So no matter if your 1st or 21st, I think it's important to keep striving forward, to keep getting points and seconds everywhere, because it's the masterpiece of our industry. Seconds and half points make good arborists great.
They say that competition is great for the consumer. I say it's great for everyone. Go win something today.
Friday, May 6, 2016
Pruning Percentages, Removing Live Crown and Trying to Bust the Myth.
Recently I've been obsessing over my own pruning practices. I want to be sure that I'm offering the most healthy service I can for the trees I prune. Also, I want to be as accurate as I can as well when informing a client what I'm doing when pruning and working in their trees.
I'm going to share an email I wrote to Ed Gilman, professor at The University of Florida, and a very researched voice in the arboriculture community.
This is me reaching out:
"Ed,
I'm going to share an email I wrote to Ed Gilman, professor at The University of Florida, and a very researched voice in the arboriculture community.
This is me reaching out:
"Ed,
My name is T.C. Mazar. I am a contract climber working in Pennsylvania (ISA Arborist/Climber Specialist). I'd like to say I've had the pleasure of listening to you lecture at our symposium before, and I think your work on pruning is really fantastic. I admire your research and philosophy. Also, I hope this email finds you well.
I've been doing some deep thinking lately into my own pruning practices, meditating recently on "percentages"; specifically when it comes to removing a portion of live crown. As arborists we're quick to give a presecription of removing a certain live portion of the crown during pruning practices, say 30% or 20%. A third, a quarter and so on and so forth.
As of late though, I've been wondering how to truly quantify these percentages, how can we look at a crown prior to pruning, and then look at our finished product and give even a remotely accurate estimate of what we removed. My 20% would be someone else's 30%, for example.
I made this point in a Facebook discussion in one of the climber forums that I follow, and a shitstorm seemed to ensue. I do understand that these percentages are rough estimates, guidelines if you will for homeowners and contractors alike to meet expectations. But how relevant are these percentages in the fact that they can be interpreted so differently? I know that you use these percentages in your literature, and in your research to convery certain points on pruning.
My point is that the crown of a tree is so complex, so very busy in the live biology that's taking place, I feel we can never look at a crown and see it in it's own entirety to really understand accurately what we're removing. We just know that it's somehow right...right?
It always comes back to this: "well I know exactly what the tree should look like when it's pruned properly". Like a magician who never reveals the secret behind his magic.
My concern is that I'm sounding more intelligent than I really am, giving the homeowner the impression that I'm able to somehow accurately quantify their tree's live crown and than be able to accurately remove a portion of that crown.
I'm big on recording specific sizes of collar cuts for my own personal journals, objectives and rough estimates on tree size. The percentages though, I've been having a really hard time of as late, because I hear so many of my colleagues saying 30% and 40%, but what is that really? It seems like its just conceptual, and it never really pans out in the real world.
Can you shed some light on this? Can you, in a short breath or so, give some meaning to these percentages? I would love to be able to share this with the community. I know you are busy, and so anything at all to put my mind at rest would be greatly appreciated!
Best,
T.C. Mazar"
This is Ed's response:
"Fantastic questions. I have found in the several hundred pruning workshops I have done all over the us and overseas that as you say people's perception of what was removed varies widely. I don't think it is a good way to express what is to be done. We have gone recently to expressing the diameter of cuts, number of cuts, type of cuts ( reduction, branch removal), location in crown ( typically the largest diameter primary branches). This is the approach presented in the current draft of ANSI a300 which will be out for another public comment period this fall. Also, you will notice that the 25 percent guideline has been removed from the draft document.
That's for all those thoughts!
Ed Gilman, professor"
Ed Gilman, professor"
It puts my mind at rest to know that these percentages are misleading, and they are inaccurate to certain degree in the sense of how much they vary from individual to individual. This, of course, can be interpreted however you see fit. For me though, the percentage myth has been busted.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Dogs and Trees.
I am a new dog owner. Her name is Indy, she's an Australian Cattle Dog and it's been a real treat attempting to train her for the job site. My intentions is that she'll be a great worksite dog, sleeping in the truck, guarding the saws and hopefully fetching blocks and taglines in no time.
As with any new endeavor, I'm doing my fair share of research and came across a great book by The Monks of Skete entitled: How To Be Your Dog's Best Friend. You see, these monks are world renowned breeders of German Shepherds, and highly sought out dog trainers as well. Their approach to dog training is rather holistic and focuses very much on the relationship that exists between dog and owner. Of course, as I read I find myself reflecting on being a tree climber, and the specific relationship that I share with the trees I climb and care for.
The book reads, "obedience training can be allied with spiritual discipline both to train your dog and to train yourself. The difficulty with many approaches to training is that they focus entirely on the dog and not on the trainer. In such a context of unreflective behavior, all that really matters is the particular technique and the end result it achieves. The trouble is, such overkill has a profound effect on the relationship. "Whatever works" is an excuse used to justify training techniques that, when looked at closely, not only lack sensitivity but are ethically questionable" (page 97).
This passage from the book struck such a cord with me that it inspired this entry. I immediately related this to the work I do as a production arborist. After all, maintenance pruning is just that, the training of a tree to fit in harmoniously with it's environment, the people and structures around it, in a healthy manner. Isn't that so often times the case, that we get so caught up in the end result, finishing the job and moving quickly on to the next task, that sometimes a "whatever works" attitude takes hold. Sure, maybe there's some of you out there that are so spiritually in tune with your trees that this may not apply, but I think for the majority of us, there is a bit of that unreflective behavior that trickles out. All that matters is that the cut is right and clean and that the end result works. The problem is, there's no real relationship with that tree, just the specs or the work order, and on to the next one.
Well, this can be problematic with trees and dogs alike. The arborist has a duty to reflect on what they do as professionals, especially when people are going to pay good money for your service. I think that this special relationship between arborist and tree (or dog and trainer), is what separates the good from the great. A great arborist no doubt will have a spiritual connection with the trees they work in. They won't necessarily do what's easy for them as a climber or rigger, but rather what's best for the tree. Maybe this means going an extra 15 or 20 feet further to place a healthier cut, installing an extra cable, or cleaning up a pole pruning cut that's just too nasty to leave, even though no one will ever see it. And sure, they'll be people who argue "you can't make money that way," to which I respond, "you can't make money any other way". This is what is so important in the care of trees, is that we reflect on everything that we do; with the tree, and not just ourselves, in mind. Let's be honest about who things are really working out for.
Another great point that The Monks talk about in the book as far as dog training goes is the ability to leave non-related training issues aside. For example, if you're having a bad day, issues at work, issues at home or other ailments from a different sphere of life, try to clear that from the training atmosphere as to not put that weight onto the dog. The session will go better when there is a clear focus on the relationship between dog and trainer, minus any outside influences that can cloud the air.
This rings true as an arborist as well. Things will not always be working out in different spheres of life, and it becomes so easy for those emotions to leak into other endeavors, especially work. Try to treat climbing and arboriculture as a meditation, where you take a deep breath and let go of those distractions so that you can focus all of your energy on the tree. In other words, don't justify bad pruning cuts or dangerous rigging situations on the fact that you are in a bad mood. Leave that juju out of the crown. It can be such a healthy thing, for both the climber and the tree, when this type of unobtrusive relationship transpires.
As I write this Indy is sleeping and I am not in the trees. But I am trying to get in touch with my spiritual side, and reflect a bit on my work as an arborist and a dog owner. Maybe a lot of you don't have dogs, but I'm sure many of you have cared for hundreds, if not thousands, of trees out there. And even if you've lost a few contracts along the way, each and every tree that you've cared for is a reflection of you as an arborist. Once in a while you better stop to think about if that's the right man or woman in the mirror. Because just as a dog is man's best friend, the arborist should also be a tree's best friend.
As with any new endeavor, I'm doing my fair share of research and came across a great book by The Monks of Skete entitled: How To Be Your Dog's Best Friend. You see, these monks are world renowned breeders of German Shepherds, and highly sought out dog trainers as well. Their approach to dog training is rather holistic and focuses very much on the relationship that exists between dog and owner. Of course, as I read I find myself reflecting on being a tree climber, and the specific relationship that I share with the trees I climb and care for.
The book reads, "obedience training can be allied with spiritual discipline both to train your dog and to train yourself. The difficulty with many approaches to training is that they focus entirely on the dog and not on the trainer. In such a context of unreflective behavior, all that really matters is the particular technique and the end result it achieves. The trouble is, such overkill has a profound effect on the relationship. "Whatever works" is an excuse used to justify training techniques that, when looked at closely, not only lack sensitivity but are ethically questionable" (page 97).
This passage from the book struck such a cord with me that it inspired this entry. I immediately related this to the work I do as a production arborist. After all, maintenance pruning is just that, the training of a tree to fit in harmoniously with it's environment, the people and structures around it, in a healthy manner. Isn't that so often times the case, that we get so caught up in the end result, finishing the job and moving quickly on to the next task, that sometimes a "whatever works" attitude takes hold. Sure, maybe there's some of you out there that are so spiritually in tune with your trees that this may not apply, but I think for the majority of us, there is a bit of that unreflective behavior that trickles out. All that matters is that the cut is right and clean and that the end result works. The problem is, there's no real relationship with that tree, just the specs or the work order, and on to the next one.
Well, this can be problematic with trees and dogs alike. The arborist has a duty to reflect on what they do as professionals, especially when people are going to pay good money for your service. I think that this special relationship between arborist and tree (or dog and trainer), is what separates the good from the great. A great arborist no doubt will have a spiritual connection with the trees they work in. They won't necessarily do what's easy for them as a climber or rigger, but rather what's best for the tree. Maybe this means going an extra 15 or 20 feet further to place a healthier cut, installing an extra cable, or cleaning up a pole pruning cut that's just too nasty to leave, even though no one will ever see it. And sure, they'll be people who argue "you can't make money that way," to which I respond, "you can't make money any other way". This is what is so important in the care of trees, is that we reflect on everything that we do; with the tree, and not just ourselves, in mind. Let's be honest about who things are really working out for.
Another great point that The Monks talk about in the book as far as dog training goes is the ability to leave non-related training issues aside. For example, if you're having a bad day, issues at work, issues at home or other ailments from a different sphere of life, try to clear that from the training atmosphere as to not put that weight onto the dog. The session will go better when there is a clear focus on the relationship between dog and trainer, minus any outside influences that can cloud the air.
This rings true as an arborist as well. Things will not always be working out in different spheres of life, and it becomes so easy for those emotions to leak into other endeavors, especially work. Try to treat climbing and arboriculture as a meditation, where you take a deep breath and let go of those distractions so that you can focus all of your energy on the tree. In other words, don't justify bad pruning cuts or dangerous rigging situations on the fact that you are in a bad mood. Leave that juju out of the crown. It can be such a healthy thing, for both the climber and the tree, when this type of unobtrusive relationship transpires.
As I write this Indy is sleeping and I am not in the trees. But I am trying to get in touch with my spiritual side, and reflect a bit on my work as an arborist and a dog owner. Maybe a lot of you don't have dogs, but I'm sure many of you have cared for hundreds, if not thousands, of trees out there. And even if you've lost a few contracts along the way, each and every tree that you've cared for is a reflection of you as an arborist. Once in a while you better stop to think about if that's the right man or woman in the mirror. Because just as a dog is man's best friend, the arborist should also be a tree's best friend.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
On Work Position.
I often hear climbers champion Single Rope Technique, claiming that they couldn't imagine working a tree any other way. I agree with this, because I mostly climb utilizing SRT for most of my work positioning.
When I started climbing I learned on a traditional dynamic system. For me, the biggest problems with this technique were: ascending, managing friction and retrieving my friction management device. Naturally, SRT answers the problematic questions that DRT posed for me.
I think that SRT also owes itself to the production climber because of some of the steps that it eliminates when setting up a tree. When basal-anchoring, there's no need for limb isolation, just a suitable suspension point to carry the load. I can set two primary lines basal anchored in the time it would take to isolate one limb in a DRT configuration (not to mention the pain of sending up a ring and ring). In the same respect, there's no secondary gear retrieval (ie. a friction management device), only rope to pull when the climb is complete. The 1:1 movement along the system as compared with that of 2:1 in DRT is also a favorable case in point. Of course, these are the obvious characteristics when we're comparing these two climbing systems. I don't want to beat a dead horse.
I don't want to get into the load forces that each system presents either, as that could be a whole discussion in itself that I'll save for another time. Let's assume for this article that the suspension point is strong and can either carry a basal anchored system which would exert twice the load when compared to that of a canopy anchored system.
What I do want to get into is what I call exposure. I'm going to define it, and then I'm going to talk about why an SRT system lends itself to mitigating exposure for the climber in a very effective way. Let's imagine a broad tree with no one central anchor to access the entire crown. Decurrent in character if you will. As a climber crosses over the center of the crown while anchored on the opposite side, rope angle begins to flatten. The potential for a dangerous swing increases. This is exposure, and it has everything to do with rope angle, and the distance to your anchor, and not beng lanyarded to the tree. In order to mitigate this exposure, the climber must change their rope angle. This is for me, the biggest benefit of an SRT system verses a DRT system.
When the climber redirects the climb line in an SRT system, the rope is static, so there's no friction other than that on the climbing device. When redirecting a DRT system, more friction must be managed. This is the deal breaker for me, the re-direct. It has the most DIRECT effect on achieving a comfortable, non-exposed work position.
Remember the broad tree with no central anchor I mentioned a paragraph ago? Well, your on the far side of the tree, far away from your anchor, your climbing higher and higher and the rope angle is getting dangerous. Instead of taking a selfie, you decide that maybe you should mitigate your exposure. For the SRT climber, you can install a simple false-crotch redirect, or drop your climbing system through a natural crotch redirect. Done. The DRT climber runs into a problem, they either can install a fancy redirect with pulleys and other gear that makes an attempt to manage the friction introduced, or they can retrieve their original anchor and reset all together. Meanwhile, the SRT climber has already updated Instagram and called for rigging.
When I study all the hype around the discussion of SRT verses DRT; it always comes down to this one simple concept of being able to easily change my rope angle in an SRT system. My biggest fear in canopy access is exposure. In big crowns I think it's a very real danger. Changing my rope angle diminishes the anxiety that bad rope angle creates. This leads to a safer and more comfortable climb all the time. And that's really why SRT is awesome.
When I started climbing I learned on a traditional dynamic system. For me, the biggest problems with this technique were: ascending, managing friction and retrieving my friction management device. Naturally, SRT answers the problematic questions that DRT posed for me.
I think that SRT also owes itself to the production climber because of some of the steps that it eliminates when setting up a tree. When basal-anchoring, there's no need for limb isolation, just a suitable suspension point to carry the load. I can set two primary lines basal anchored in the time it would take to isolate one limb in a DRT configuration (not to mention the pain of sending up a ring and ring). In the same respect, there's no secondary gear retrieval (ie. a friction management device), only rope to pull when the climb is complete. The 1:1 movement along the system as compared with that of 2:1 in DRT is also a favorable case in point. Of course, these are the obvious characteristics when we're comparing these two climbing systems. I don't want to beat a dead horse.
I don't want to get into the load forces that each system presents either, as that could be a whole discussion in itself that I'll save for another time. Let's assume for this article that the suspension point is strong and can either carry a basal anchored system which would exert twice the load when compared to that of a canopy anchored system.
What I do want to get into is what I call exposure. I'm going to define it, and then I'm going to talk about why an SRT system lends itself to mitigating exposure for the climber in a very effective way. Let's imagine a broad tree with no one central anchor to access the entire crown. Decurrent in character if you will. As a climber crosses over the center of the crown while anchored on the opposite side, rope angle begins to flatten. The potential for a dangerous swing increases. This is exposure, and it has everything to do with rope angle, and the distance to your anchor, and not beng lanyarded to the tree. In order to mitigate this exposure, the climber must change their rope angle. This is for me, the biggest benefit of an SRT system verses a DRT system.
When the climber redirects the climb line in an SRT system, the rope is static, so there's no friction other than that on the climbing device. When redirecting a DRT system, more friction must be managed. This is the deal breaker for me, the re-direct. It has the most DIRECT effect on achieving a comfortable, non-exposed work position.
Remember the broad tree with no central anchor I mentioned a paragraph ago? Well, your on the far side of the tree, far away from your anchor, your climbing higher and higher and the rope angle is getting dangerous. Instead of taking a selfie, you decide that maybe you should mitigate your exposure. For the SRT climber, you can install a simple false-crotch redirect, or drop your climbing system through a natural crotch redirect. Done. The DRT climber runs into a problem, they either can install a fancy redirect with pulleys and other gear that makes an attempt to manage the friction introduced, or they can retrieve their original anchor and reset all together. Meanwhile, the SRT climber has already updated Instagram and called for rigging.
When I study all the hype around the discussion of SRT verses DRT; it always comes down to this one simple concept of being able to easily change my rope angle in an SRT system. My biggest fear in canopy access is exposure. In big crowns I think it's a very real danger. Changing my rope angle diminishes the anxiety that bad rope angle creates. This leads to a safer and more comfortable climb all the time. And that's really why SRT is awesome.
Monday, January 11, 2016
The Work Plan.
Everything starts here. The objective, tree inspection, the specs, site hazards, traffic control, additions to the contract and the list can go on and on. The work plan can be more important than setting a throw line. Coming up with a solid plan in tree work not only keeps people and property safe, but it also leads to a greater amount of production because of the focus it renders on a work site.
I'll start with tree inspection, because honestly I feel it's one thing that I sometimes take for granted. Quickly scanning for large defects or decay just won't cut it. Don't be afraid to rap on an old trunk with a rubber mallet to sound for internal compartments. Take a few minutes, step back and scan the crown for buzzing insects or other animals that can be troublesome. A 360 degree walk around the tree may reveal a defect or hazard that you hadn't seen from a particular angle. This can also open up other options and angles for throwing or shooting lines into the crown for access. I know I get caught up rather easily in the fast paced world of production, but if there is ever a time to slow things down, it's during the planning and prepping stages.
I think we've all heard the old adage, "plan the work and work the plan." For me this carries a lot of weight as a production climber. Understanding what the goals of the contract are is vital in sound execution. Wondering what to do next can slow work down and cause confusion. I like to think about my next move, but I don't try to dwell on it because this can cause stress and anxiety. Don't become overwhelmed with the amount or scope of work, just focus on the work step by step. Things change, especially when you're aloft and realize that certain angles look different, certain rigging schemes may change because of the new view on the project. The ability to adapt, and the ability to communicate those changes to your ground support will no doubt add to a smooth operation and execution of the contract.
Personally, I like to carry many different items of gear for many different types of trees. Especially different hanks of rope. One thing that slows me down quite often is line management, and although I'm not going to get into that on this blog post, I will say that in the planning stages of the climb, I like to study the architecture of the tree in order to pick a rope length that will minimize my time spent managing my lines. Everything from a 15' ornamental to a 150' hardwood will require special tools in order to make the work enjoyable and efficient. This balance really pays off, and there's a real satisfaction in deploying the right tools in the right situations.
Finally, have a rescue plan in place. It doesn't have to be elaborate, but it should be full proof. I think one of best rescue plans is having multiple climbers on a sight. Persons that can access an injured climber and get them out of the crown on whatever system they normally climb on is critical. This means letting crew members know any specifics of your system, and any time you change those configurations during the climb. And be sure to practice. Thinking you know and knowing you know could mean the difference between someone making it home to their family or not.
Don't overlook the importance of the planning stages of work. If you've seen one tree, you haven't seen them all. Don't let reptition or experience cloud the pre-work inspection and planning. Fill up your coffee mug, walk the site with your crew, enjoy the morning and make the site as safe and as fun as possible.
I'll start with tree inspection, because honestly I feel it's one thing that I sometimes take for granted. Quickly scanning for large defects or decay just won't cut it. Don't be afraid to rap on an old trunk with a rubber mallet to sound for internal compartments. Take a few minutes, step back and scan the crown for buzzing insects or other animals that can be troublesome. A 360 degree walk around the tree may reveal a defect or hazard that you hadn't seen from a particular angle. This can also open up other options and angles for throwing or shooting lines into the crown for access. I know I get caught up rather easily in the fast paced world of production, but if there is ever a time to slow things down, it's during the planning and prepping stages.
I think we've all heard the old adage, "plan the work and work the plan." For me this carries a lot of weight as a production climber. Understanding what the goals of the contract are is vital in sound execution. Wondering what to do next can slow work down and cause confusion. I like to think about my next move, but I don't try to dwell on it because this can cause stress and anxiety. Don't become overwhelmed with the amount or scope of work, just focus on the work step by step. Things change, especially when you're aloft and realize that certain angles look different, certain rigging schemes may change because of the new view on the project. The ability to adapt, and the ability to communicate those changes to your ground support will no doubt add to a smooth operation and execution of the contract.
Personally, I like to carry many different items of gear for many different types of trees. Especially different hanks of rope. One thing that slows me down quite often is line management, and although I'm not going to get into that on this blog post, I will say that in the planning stages of the climb, I like to study the architecture of the tree in order to pick a rope length that will minimize my time spent managing my lines. Everything from a 15' ornamental to a 150' hardwood will require special tools in order to make the work enjoyable and efficient. This balance really pays off, and there's a real satisfaction in deploying the right tools in the right situations.
Finally, have a rescue plan in place. It doesn't have to be elaborate, but it should be full proof. I think one of best rescue plans is having multiple climbers on a sight. Persons that can access an injured climber and get them out of the crown on whatever system they normally climb on is critical. This means letting crew members know any specifics of your system, and any time you change those configurations during the climb. And be sure to practice. Thinking you know and knowing you know could mean the difference between someone making it home to their family or not.
Don't overlook the importance of the planning stages of work. If you've seen one tree, you haven't seen them all. Don't let reptition or experience cloud the pre-work inspection and planning. Fill up your coffee mug, walk the site with your crew, enjoy the morning and make the site as safe and as fun as possible.
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