A Trip to the Neighborhood Sawmill

Yesterday, we went to a local sawmill.  Those are words that I didn't foresee ever saying.  In South Florida, we didn't have things that are common in other places, like junkyards and scrap heaps, much less a sawmill.

But now we live in the mountains, not far from Asheville, but also not far from much more rural places.  We live in a house that has a different kind of siding that exists in much of the rest of the nation.  Our current house has rough sawn boards, but they are painted.  It's a mountain look, a church camp look.  We need a few more of them to preserve the look of the house as we remove a door that doesn't make sense in the remodel.

We asked a local lumberyard if they carry these boards, and we overheard one sales rep assuring the front desk woman that no house in the area used those boards.  They took our name and number, but no surprise, we haven't heard from them.  The Lowe's that is a few miles down the road from our house told us that it would likely cost $1000.00, so I suggested we just create a mural or mosaic for that wall.

But then we got an ad (I think?) over some social media site for Sunrise Sawmill, so we called them, expecting more bad news.  Much to our surprise, they had what we needed, although it doesn't stay in stock long, and it was very affordable:  $50.00 for what we needed.

In these days of shortages and supply chain issues, we try to buy what we will need when we see it, because we can't be sure we'll get it again.  So yesterday, we headed over to the sawmill.

It's a very different place, and yet just a street or two away from regular suburban housing and restaurants and schools.  As we drove there, seeing several apartment complexes under construction next to the industrial sites, I said, "I can't decide if the city of Asheville has a unique approach to zoning or no approach to zoning."

Part of me half expected to see running water and big wheels, but it's not that kind of mill.  Instead, it's stacks of logs that will be transformed into the stacks of boards that dotted the grounds.

We only needed 5 boards, but the first person who helped us treated us like we were million dollar customers.  We made some cuts, loaded the boards, and then we had to figure out the ratcheting straps we brought with us.  Happily, the woman in charge of the office uses them to lash her paddleboard to her car, so she helped us.

the first board on the roof of the Nissan Rogue

Soon we were on our way with boards lashed to the roof of our Nissan Rogue SUV, the first time we've ever used it that way.   Happily, the winds were low yesterday, and we were on back roads, not highways.  The lashing held, and soon enough, we were back home, unloading boards and commenting on their beauty and quality.

When I thought about moving to the mountains and exploring, a trip to the sawmill was not on the agenda.  But I'm glad to discover that such places still exist.