Thursday, January 31, 2008

Rescuing the unwanted trees of Santa Barbara

BY ERIC LINDBERG
DAILY SOUND STAFF WRITER

Every day in Santa Barbara, trees are falling.
The reasons are varied. Some of the trees are diseased. Others are lifting the foundations of homes. The wind knocks down a few. Many are just getting old.
Eight months ago, they would have been tossed in a chipper or tossed in a landfill, churned into mulch or left to rot. But Rob Bjorklund has other plans.

“I have nothing to do with growing the trees or cutting them down,” he says. “I just intercept them.”
Bjorklund, 51, is the driving force behind Local Wood, a custom milling company based in Santa Barbara that takes fallen trees that would otherwise be discarded and turns them into stunningly beautiful wood floors, furniture, ceiling beams and other wood products.
About once or twice a week, a local tree trimming service will call him with a hot tip on a tree coming down. They are happy to get rid of the hassle of chipping up a tree or forking over cash to dump it in a landfill.
“And they really enjoy seeing these logs get saved,” Bjorklund says. “…They know this beautiful chunk of wood is going to be made into something meaningful.”
Since starting up his company, he has been buried in logs. He estimates about 20 trees come down every day in Santa Barbara’s urban forest, more than he can possibly handle.
With only two employees, milling and finishing a wood floor is a time-consuming process that is reflected in the price tag of the finished product. It’s expensive, Bjorklund says, because it’s unique.
“I like to consider it vintage. This is part of Santa Barbara vintage history.”
Bjorklund is a wood connoisseur. He glows at the mention of blue gum and red river eucalyptus. He refers to little knots and imperfections in his flooring as “wood love.”
“They don’t have that in the commercial mills. It’s character.”
Many of the trees he rescues are more than 100 years old. He holds up a plank of ash from a 50-year-old tree that fell on Alan Road, part of a mix of seven species that will floor the entryway of the Environmental Defense Center on Garden Street.
Each log Bjorklund receives is marked and its history recorded. He says he wants to create a pedigree, a story behind every plank of flooring he creates so the owner knows exactly where each tree came from and how it fell.
“You see all this character and history running through them,” he says, rubbing his hand over a piece of black acacia. “You can just feel it.”
The process of turning unwanted wood into richly colored flooring or furniture starts when trees arrive at his ranch on Old San Marcos Road. Smaller logs can be brought to the sawmill. For larger pieces, the sawmill has to be brought to the logs.
Designed in Australia for cutting massive eucalyptus, Bjorklund’s milling machine can be moved into place over enormous trunks. He quarter-cuts large beams from each log, seals the ends with wax to prevent cracking, and stacks them in massive racks to air-dry for about five weeks.
“We go old-school,” he says.
Once moisture content has dropped to about 15 percent, they go into the solar kiln. A large chamber traps hot air, which is circulated by fans through the stacked wood, slowly pulling its moisture level down to 6 percent. After a wood-burning oven raises the kiln’s temperature high enough to sterilize the wood, killing off any bugs or insects that may be living inside, it is planed and stored in a humidity-controlled chamber until needed.
“My goal is to save all of the high-quality saw logs coming from the local urban forest,” Bjorklund says.
His Web site, www.localwood.net, offers an extensive look at the milling process and his environmentally friendly operation.
A fourth-generation Santa Barbaran, Bjorklund works on land owned by his grandfather. Growing up in the area, he attended San Marcos High School and joined the military shortly after graduating. Fifteen years ago, he joined a Swedish company to help unveil its product, a small sawmill designed for woodworkers, in the United States.
After 10 years, he struck out on his own, deciding to give his milling company idea a shot. Now married with two daughters, 5 and 7, he lives in Santa Barbara and doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.
“I don’t really want to travel too much,” he says. “I feel Santa Barbara can be the flagship on leading the country in utilizing the urban forest. … This is where I want to be, this is what I want to do.”
Although he officially launched Local Wood eight months ago, much of his time has been spent building up an inventory of wood. The entryway at the EDC is his first project, a gratis installation to use almost as a sampler for future customers.
“He came to us and said, I can’t do your whole building for free, I can’t even do your conference room for free, but I can do this entryway because you guys do really good work,” EDC executive director David Landecker says. “We’re hoping it’s a win-win situation.”
In a town that cherishes its environmental disposition, Bjorklund says he is confident people will be interested in his work.
“I feel it in my gut,” he says. “Yes, it’s a need.”
As long as trees keep falling and people come calling, Bjorklund plans to keep Santa Barbara’s arboreal legacy alive.
“It really is a sinful thing, to grind up and toss away such a beautiful piece of history.”

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