I cut wood all day today. Definitely making gloves next chance I get. You’d think by now I couldn’t get blisters, but it turns out that swinging a pickaxe and swinging an axe are distinctly different movements that blister distinctly different parts of my hands.
Today’s one of those days where I’m grateful that the spring in my cave is ice cold, is what I’m saying.
I’m cooking down some wood into charcoal because I haven’t hit a vein of coal in ages and charcoal’s better for melting iron than straight wood, which is too inconsistent in its temperature.
I’ll admit that I originally started chopping wood so that I could make a bridge, but then it occurred to me that I’d have to haul the support logs all the way to the river, and Stupid would probably have objections. Not sure I can blame the horse for that. So instead, charcoal, and a plan to continue digging toward the mountain so that I don’t have to be worried about being caught outside near the river.
That’s today’s plan, anyway.