09-10-2025, 01:47 PM
The Rise and Decline of Tower Yarders
Tower yarders were once the backbone of steep-slope logging operations across the Pacific Northwest and coastal British Columbia. These machines, often mounted on tracked or wheeled platforms, used steel towers and cable systems to haul logs from inaccessible terrain to roadside landings. Brands like Madill, Berger, Skagit, and Washington Iron Works dominated the market from the 1950s through the 1980s, with Madill alone producing hundreds of yarders from its Nanaimo, BC facility.
The yarders ranged from 70-foot towers to massive 90-foot rigs, each requiring a skilled crew to operate. A typical setup included chokermen, rigging slingers, hook tenders, chasers, and tower operators. These machines were engineered for brute strength, often powered by Detroit Diesel or Cummins engines, and relied on mechanical clutches, drums, and talkie tooters—horn-based signaling systems—to coordinate turns.
By the early 2000s, however, the economics of logging had shifted. Smaller cutblocks, environmental regulations, and the rise of mechanized harvesting methods like grapple yarding and hoe chucking rendered many tower yarders obsolete. Crews shrank, and the cost of maintaining aging iron became unjustifiable. Today, dozens of these machines sit rusting in overgrown yards, their cables slack and towers silent.
Why Were These Machines Abandoned
Several factors contributed to the abandonment of tower yarders:
In some cases, yarders were parked with the intention of refurbishment but never touched again. Others were simply left where they last worked, too costly to move or dismantle. Their presence now serves as a visual archive of a bygone era.
Cultural Memory and Logging Lore
The legacy of tower yarders lives on in the stories of those who worked them. Operators recall the adrenaline of setting chokers under pressure, the camaraderie of large crews, and the unique language of the woods. One game, known as “Run or Die,” involved racing to set chokers before the turn was pulled—an unofficial competition that tested speed, judgment, and nerve.
Talkie tooters, the horn-based signaling devices, were central to communication. Each blast conveyed a specific command: go ahead, stop, slack, tighten. The death of Finley Hays, a legendary figure in logging signal systems, symbolized the end of an era where auditory cues ruled the forest.
Veterans speak fondly of characters like Pete Jackson and Floyd Wilson, who ran crews with precision and grit. Jackson Bros Logging operated multiple sides with towering Madill rigs, and their crews were known for both productivity and mischief. Stories of rigging rats, haywire chokermen, and tower operators who could read the terrain like a map are still shared in logging towns.
Preserving the Machines and Their History
Efforts to preserve yarders are sporadic but growing. Some machines have been restored for museum display, while others are documented through photography and oral history. The rusted hulks, often photographed in dramatic coastal light, evoke both nostalgia and awe.
Recommendations for preservation:
Conclusion
Abandoned log yarders are more than industrial relics—they are monuments to a labor-intensive, high-risk profession that shaped the economies and cultures of forested regions. Their silence today contrasts with the roar they once produced, echoing through valleys and over ridgelines. As technology advances and forestry evolves, remembering the machines and the people who ran them is essential. These towers may be rusted, but their stories still stand tall.
Tower yarders were once the backbone of steep-slope logging operations across the Pacific Northwest and coastal British Columbia. These machines, often mounted on tracked or wheeled platforms, used steel towers and cable systems to haul logs from inaccessible terrain to roadside landings. Brands like Madill, Berger, Skagit, and Washington Iron Works dominated the market from the 1950s through the 1980s, with Madill alone producing hundreds of yarders from its Nanaimo, BC facility.
The yarders ranged from 70-foot towers to massive 90-foot rigs, each requiring a skilled crew to operate. A typical setup included chokermen, rigging slingers, hook tenders, chasers, and tower operators. These machines were engineered for brute strength, often powered by Detroit Diesel or Cummins engines, and relied on mechanical clutches, drums, and talkie tooters—horn-based signaling systems—to coordinate turns.
By the early 2000s, however, the economics of logging had shifted. Smaller cutblocks, environmental regulations, and the rise of mechanized harvesting methods like grapple yarding and hoe chucking rendered many tower yarders obsolete. Crews shrank, and the cost of maintaining aging iron became unjustifiable. Today, dozens of these machines sit rusting in overgrown yards, their cables slack and towers silent.
Why Were These Machines Abandoned
Several factors contributed to the abandonment of tower yarders:
- Declining timber volumes and smaller harvest units
- Transition to mechanized systems requiring fewer personnel
- High maintenance costs and limited parts availability
- Loss of institutional knowledge as older operators retired
- Regulatory pressure to reduce environmental impact and noise
In some cases, yarders were parked with the intention of refurbishment but never touched again. Others were simply left where they last worked, too costly to move or dismantle. Their presence now serves as a visual archive of a bygone era.
Cultural Memory and Logging Lore
The legacy of tower yarders lives on in the stories of those who worked them. Operators recall the adrenaline of setting chokers under pressure, the camaraderie of large crews, and the unique language of the woods. One game, known as “Run or Die,” involved racing to set chokers before the turn was pulled—an unofficial competition that tested speed, judgment, and nerve.
Talkie tooters, the horn-based signaling devices, were central to communication. Each blast conveyed a specific command: go ahead, stop, slack, tighten. The death of Finley Hays, a legendary figure in logging signal systems, symbolized the end of an era where auditory cues ruled the forest.
Veterans speak fondly of characters like Pete Jackson and Floyd Wilson, who ran crews with precision and grit. Jackson Bros Logging operated multiple sides with towering Madill rigs, and their crews were known for both productivity and mischief. Stories of rigging rats, haywire chokermen, and tower operators who could read the terrain like a map are still shared in logging towns.
Preserving the Machines and Their History
Efforts to preserve yarders are sporadic but growing. Some machines have been restored for museum display, while others are documented through photography and oral history. The rusted hulks, often photographed in dramatic coastal light, evoke both nostalgia and awe.
Recommendations for preservation:
- Catalog serial numbers and manufacturer data before deterioration
- Record oral histories from retired operators and mechanics
- Partner with forestry museums and historical societies
- Salvage key components for educational display
- Create digital archives with 3D scans and interactive diagrams
Conclusion
Abandoned log yarders are more than industrial relics—they are monuments to a labor-intensive, high-risk profession that shaped the economies and cultures of forested regions. Their silence today contrasts with the roar they once produced, echoing through valleys and over ridgelines. As technology advances and forestry evolves, remembering the machines and the people who ran them is essential. These towers may be rusted, but their stories still stand tall.
