When I say “the United States Navy,” what do you think of?
Boats?
Little outfits?
The military-industrial complex?
What about a 53,000 acre forest in Indiana?
Well, start thinking about it, because it exists, and it’s here, at the world’s
third largest naval installation: Naval Support Activity Crane.
It’s there so that the barnacle boys can do repairs on exactly one boat, conveniently
located here, in nearby Boston.
And if you’re wondering on what planet the Navy managing a whole forest to repair exactly
one boat is the best solution to anything, all aboard!
We’re setting sail on a pithy but effective explanation.
The exactly one boat in question is this one: the USS Constitution, currently afloat here.
She was launched into Boston Harbor at 12:15pm on October 21st, 1797, making her both the
oldest still-floating, still-commissioned naval ship in the world… and a Libra.
She’s also a strong-willed, work-oriented Capricorn Rising, making her a huge asset
to the young US Navy—winning a decisive battle against the HMS Guerriere during the
War of 1812.
The story goes that the Constitution’s 22-inch-wide hull was so strong that the British cannonballs
just bounced off the sides, prompting someone very clever to yell “Huzzah, her sides are
made of iron!”
Which landed her the nickname “Old Ironsides,” even though huzzah, her sides are not made
of iron, they’re made of white oak.
And Old Ironsides is really old—225 years, though she doesn’t look it.
That’s because she gets frequent repairs and replacement parts, including new white
oak planks for her sides.
But during a restoration in 1973, they got worried, because there wasn’t much white
oak left.
And you can’t just sub some other wood because white oak is, on a cellular level, better
than just about any other at making boaty floaty.
To understand why, we’re going to tree school.
No, not preschool, tree school.
Thank you.
Welcome to tree school, this is a tree.
In the trunk of this tree, there are two types of wood: sapwood and heartwood.
If a tree’s alive, the sapwood is alive.
It sends water and nutrients up and down through little hollow tubes like this one, which is
called a “xylem:” a five-letter word worth a near-miraculous seventeen points in Scrabble.
Each year, a fresh new ring grows on the outer edge of the sapwood, and the innermost sapwood
ring retires into the heartwood to die.
Put another way, the heartwood is a tree’s Florida.
In many trees, including red oak, when a ring turns into heartwood it gets pretty susceptible
to fungus or bacteria or whatever wants to crawl up through the xylems and wreak havoc.
But it’s a different story in white oak.
When a ring of white oak sapwood turns into heartwood, it develops things called tyloses,
basically teeny-weeny corks that plug up the xylems.
Whether the tree is standing or the wood’s in boat mode, these tyloses provide rot resistance—stopping
nefarious things from crawling through the xylem to infect the wood—and also watertightness,
as they stop water from leaking through these naturally-occurring pores.
So obviously, this wood is good for boat stuff.
It’s also used for wine barrels, bourbon barrels, railroad ties… basically anywhere
you don’t want your wood to rot and/or for liquids to pass through.
But it also grows extremely slowly versus red oaks and other comparable woods: you can
harvest a red oak when it’s about 80 to 100 years old, but white oaks tend to go until
150 to 200.
So by the time they were doing that USS Constitution Restoration in ‘73, the country’s old
growth white oak supply was pretty low, and not coming back quickly.
That’s the “exactly one boat” half of things, but how did the US Navy come to maintain
an entire forest in the first place—let alone to repair exactly one boat?
And why is it in Indiana?
After all, the only waterborne threat to Indiana is wayward Chicagoans whose architecture cruise
took a wrong turn, and you don’t need the Navy to deal with them.
Well, as it turns out, the Navy bought this land to store munitions during World War II
on the assumption that if anyone dropped a bomb on the US, it would probably not be in
the middle of Indiana, an F-tier state that isn’t even worth the bomb it would take
to destroy it.
But the land didn’t take well to being built on, and after a lot of erosion, the Navy hired
a forester to reforest and take care of it in the fifties.
Over time, one forester in Crane became a whole forestry and natural resources program
that had the Navy managing trees et cetera in several timber forests.
And of these, Crane became the most profitable and sustainable, so you can put that up on
the list of “worthwhile things about Indiana.”
So back to the USS Constitution.
Seeing the lack of old growth white oak supply during the 1973 restoration, Navy Captain
Vernon P. Klemm—whose name was my favorite in this story until I realized these pictures
were taken by a guy named Bill Couch—suggested that the Navy should start growing their own
white oak to supply future Constitution repairs.
And in 1976, they designated 150 trees across their very successful forest in Crane to be
grown, maintained, and harvested to repair the USS Constitution.
So now, when it’s replace-the-planks-o’clock at Charlestown Navy Yard, three civilian foresters
at Naval Support Activity Crane handpick which trees get harvested.
In 2012, ahead of a restoration that would go from 2015 to 2017, those three examined
seventy of the 150 trees and selected 35 that were ready for plankage.
They cut them down between February 20th and 21st of 2014, because during other parts of
the year, the endangered Indiana Bat lives in Crane’s white oaks and you can’t bother
it.
They stored and dried out the wood in Crane before shipping it out to Boston to get boaty,
and continued looking after the rest of the forest ecosystem after to make sure they’ll
have healthy white oaks ready next time they’re needed.
And that’s how the Navy manages an entire forest to repair exactly one boat.
It’s not the most conventional use of military funds, sure…
I mean, “forestry to extend the life of a mostly-ceremonial boat” isn’t the number
one thing I assumed the US military did.
But of the things the US military does, it’s actually one of the most palatable.
So float on, Old Ironsides!
Huzzah!
You know what else is palatable?
Home-brewed coffee, thanks to this video’s sponsor: Trade Coffee.
Before I met Trade, my home coffees were anything but palatable.
At worst, they were bitter and watery.
At best, they were boring… which is why for the longest time, I would shell out at
least seven dollars a day to get my morning caffeine fix from a coffee shop.
But those days are gone, because Trade sends me always-delicious, never-boring bags of
coffee to brew at home from some of the best indie roasters in the country.
But they’re not just a delivery service, they’re also curators—pulling together
a diverse array of roasts and algorithmically matching you with your perfect one.
Or you can just do what I do and order whatever has a fun name, like Funky Chicken from Floyd,
Virginia.
Did it taste funky or like chicken?
No!
Did it taste fresh and sweet with just a slight acidic bite?
You bet.
You can actually try it for yourself, because right now, Trade is offering HAI viewers a
free bag of coffee with any subscription if you sign up at drinktrade.com/HAI.
So what are you waiting for?
Upgrade your morning routine with better coffee—you’ll be supporting HAI when you do, so thanks in
advance.