The Frontier
It didn't die. It just stopped making the news.
There's a contractor in rural Montana right now loading a truck at 5 AM. His first job is 47 miles away. His second is 30 miles past that, in the opposite direction. The nearest lumber yard opens at seven, but it won't have what he needs - it never does - so he's carrying everything on the truck. If he forgets a box of screws, that's an hour and a half round trip.
This is not a metaphor. This is Tuesday.
When people talk about "the frontier," they usually mean history. Wagon trains. Manifest Destiny. Sepia-toned photographs of men with enormous mustaches standing next to things they built. But the frontier never actually ended. It just stopped being the main story. The geography hasn't changed. There are still places in this country where the nearest hardware store is an hour away, the nearest authorized tool service center is three hours away, and the guy doing the work is as dependent on his own skill and preparation as anyone who ever swung a hammer west of the Mississippi.
Timber Country
The timber belt runs from the Canadian border to the Sierras, and the people working it are doing a version of the same job that's been done here since the 1850s. The trees are second-growth now, not old-growth, and the chainsaws have fuel injection and electronic ignition. But the fundamentals haven't moved: you're in a forest, a long way from town, cutting trees that weigh more than your truck, and if something goes wrong there's no 911 response time that means anything.
A faller working for a small logging outfit in the Coast Range carries a minimum of $3,000 in tools and safety gear on any given day. His saw, his backup saw, his fuel, his wedges, his axe, his PPE. If the primary saw goes down - and they go down - the backup needs to be ready. There's no running to the dealer. The nearest Stihl shop might be in Eugene, and Eugene might be two hours away on logging roads.
Ranch Country
Ranching operations out here cover areas that would qualify as small counties in the eastern states. A working ranch might run 50,000 acres, and every mile of fence on that land is somebody's job to maintain.
The toolkit of a ranch hand hasn't changed as much as the catalogs suggest. Wire stretchers, post drivers, fencing pliers - tools that were designed for a specific job a century ago and still do that job because the job hasn't changed. The posts are steel now instead of cedar, mostly, and the wire comes in rolls from a factory instead of a local smith. But the act of setting fence across rough country is still a person, some tools, and a very long day.
Rural Electric
There are electricians in Appalachia serving territories that a city electrician would consider a natural disaster. One licensed electrician covering three counties. Service calls that start with a 45-minute drive just to reach the property, and then another 20 minutes on a private road to reach the house.
These are the electricians who still carry hand benders on the truck because the hydraulic bender is a luxury that takes up space they need for wire stock. The ones who've learned to carry two of everything electrical because a failed component means a two-hour round trip to the supply house - if the supply house has it.
Off the Grid
There are roughly 180,000 occupied homes in the United States with no grid connection. Not by failure. By choice, or by geography, or by economics that make running power lines to a property more expensive than the property itself.
An off-grid builder in northern Idaho is simultaneously a carpenter, a plumber, a solar installer, and a small-engine mechanic. The tool collection reflects that. It's not a curated workshop. It's whatever solves the next problem, maintained to a standard that has to be higher than average because replacement isn't a trip to the store. It's a week waiting for shipping.
The Common Thread
These are different people doing different work in different places. But they share something that separates them from every tradesperson within delivery range of a Home Depot: when something goes wrong, they're on their own.
That's not a complaint. Ask any of them. It's a fact they've built their entire working life around. The truck is packed differently. The tool selection is different. The maintenance schedule is different. The skill set is broader because specialization is a luxury you can only afford when backup is close.
This is who Frontier Tradesman is about. Not as subjects to study. As people whose work and reality deserve the same quality of attention that every industry closer to a city gets.
From Crosscut Saws to Chainsaws
How logging tools shaped a nation - and what vanished when they were replaced.
The TransitionThe End of Field-Repairable Tools
What happens when your drill dies 45 miles from the nearest service center.
HeritageBrace and Bit vs Battery Drill
What drilling used to mean - and what we traded for the trigger pull.