My previous post was about the little town of Jordan River and how it's beginnings were attributed to the logging industry. Aside from playing on the seashore, we also went for a walk through the defunct log sort across the road from the beach.
This is what's called a dry land log sort. After the logging trucks are loaded up in the clearcut forests, the logs are brought down to a vast open area to be sorted, graded and sent off to where ever they are needed. Some go to lumber mills but a lot are exported as raw logs to other countries.
As we walked around the old machinery I was enthralled by the rusted bits and pieces.
I love the color of old metal.
There's something soothing about it.
smooth and rough at the same time.
There's strength in these leftover workers.
I wonder at their function and their history.
What was it for?
Who's hands touched it?
How long will it sit here gathering layers of reds and browns?
What tragic tales have been the result of this heavy metal?
These hard working relics of an industry slowly dying...