In the dark, while the sun is still hours to the east, trucks carrying WB Contracting crews rumble up a forest road to a rutted clearing. The headlights catch glints of metal, then reveal a row of machines in the shadows.
The men run their checks: Top off diesel tanks. Lubricate moving parts. Clear errant branches and chunks of bark from the previous day. Calibrate measuring equipment. All systems go.
This is the land of loggers. The men, and occasionally, women, of the White Mountains cut down trees, stack them, grind them, ship them off to sawmills.
