At 93, Rhinelander Logger Larry Rappley Still Swinging an Axe

Most folks hang up their work boots by 65. Larry Rappley’s still lacing his at 93.

The Rhinelander resident fires up his log splitter before most people finish their first cup of coffee. He drives his tractor down forest trails, stacks cordwood along the roadside, and collects donations in old peanut butter jars — all while legally blind and working through the aches that come with nearly a century of living.

“All my life I’ve been working in the woods,” Rappley says. “I love logging and stuff like that.”

Ugly Sticks and Pretty Fires

Pull up along Rappley’s roadside stand east of Rhinelander and you’ll spot his hand-painted sign: “Ugly Sticks make pretty fires.”

It’s not just clever marketing. The veteran logger sees beauty in what others overlook — the twisted branches, the gnarly trunks, the wood most people leave to rot. He hauls it out, splits it down, and stacks it for anyone who needs warmth.

Those peanut butter jars sitting beside the firewood? They’ve collected over $1,000 in donations, every penny going to Northwoods Veterans Homestead, a nonprofit helping homeless veterans find their footing.

“I’m more interested in taking and cleaning the wood up rather than see it go to waste.” — Larry Rappley

As a veteran himself, Rappley knows what it means to serve and to struggle. Supporting fellow vets isn’t charity work to him — it’s what neighbors do.

A Lifetime in the Northwoods Timber

Rappley’s connection to these forests runs deeper than most trails. He’s part of the generation that kept Rhinelander’s logging heritage alive after the white pine boom faded.

While the big mills scaled back and automation changed the industry, guys like Rappley kept working the land the old way — tractor, chainsaw, and sweat. The Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest stretches 1.5 million acres nearby, and Rappley’s spent decades knowing its rhythms.

His granddaughter Shauna Johnson watches him work with a mix of admiration and wonder.

“My grandpa’s always been that perfect example,” she says. “The way he takes care of the land, the way he takes care of his family, the way that he helps other people. He’s selfless.”

What Keeps Him Going

Here’s what a typical day looks like for Rappley:

• Wake before sunrise and check the weather
• Drive the tractor to fallen timber or brush piles
• Run the log splitter until he’s got another cord ready
• Haul wood to the roadside stand
• Collect donations and restock as needed

The work hasn’t gotten easier. Joints complain, vision fails, and there are days the body says quit.

But Rappley’s made from different timber. “You get some aches and pains but you recoup,” he says.

It’s that Northwoods grit — the same spirit that got veterans through wars and winters, that built communities from forest clearings, that keeps folks showing up long after others would’ve stopped.

More Than Firewood

Johnson says she can only hope to “fill about a fraction of my grandpa’s boots with my little feet.”

That sentiment captures something important about Rappley’s story. He’s not just splitting wood — he’s modeling resilience for younger generations in a region where the old ways still matter.

In Oneida County, where 22% of residents are over 65 and the median age pushes 48, elders like Rappley aren’t relics. They’re teachers, showing what it means to stay useful, connected, and generous well into your golden years.

About 30% of Northwoods homes still rely on wood heat, making his firewood stand more than nostalgic. It’s practical support for neighbors trying to keep heating bills manageable through brutal Wisconsin winters.

The Legacy in the Trees

Rappley will hit 94 soon, but don’t expect him to slow down much.

The tractor still runs. The splitter still works. And there’s always more wood that needs cleaning up, more veterans who could use a hand, more reasons to keep showing up.

His story reminds us that age is just a number when you’ve got purpose and a community worth serving. Whether you’re 30 or 93, the Northwoods has a way of keeping you honest, humble, and connected to what matters.

Next time you drive past a roadside firewood stand with a hand-painted sign, think about who might be behind it. Could be someone like Larry Rappley — a neighbor who’s been working these woods longer than most of us have been alive, still finding ways to give back.