A Wonderful Nightmare
I'm awakened by the sound of my father chopping wood off in the distance, my pillow damp from a steady stream of drool, and my eyes wince at the sight of the twinkling rays of the morning sun. I observe my surroundings: a bookshelf, a sleeping puppy on the floor beside me, a series of drawers, and a computer. I await for the synapses to settle in, and at last I realise that I have made it home. My fingers graze along the edge of the bed in an effort to cement the truth in this dreamlike reality. Approximately twenty-four hours ago, I awoke in an entirely different setting; one complete with dirty clothes, swarms of parasites knocking at my zippered up door, and the muffled sounds of eating and conversation in the mess tent.
When I look back at what I put myself through for the last three weeks, I regard it mereley as a long stretched out dream - a dream that could only be induced through a long period of hibernation. However, as my epidermis tingles slightly in the area behind my ears, I automatically proceed to scratch at a set of lumps - souvenirs from an all-too-lucid pleasant nightmare. I hop in the shower, and I scrub every last molecule of dirt from the bush off of me, in a hygenic effort to renew myself in this habitat of cleanliness. The sheer amount of comfort that is available to me makes me shudder with disbelief - everything seems just a little too perfect. The bush will do this to you, and for some strange unexplainable reason, I slightly yearn for the minute punishments that I have already grown so accustomed to. At last, there is much to do, yet I cannot decide exactly what I would like to do, for there isn't really anybody around to tell me what to do. I suppose I could play the piano, watch television, or just straight up relax. Those don't seem like bad ideas.
Having moved into a new camp, 8 hours from town, approximately 12 days ago, I haven't really had the oppurtunity to share my experiences with you online, due to the lack of transportation to and from town. However, to satiate your curiously hungry minds, I'll give you a slightly articulate low down.
When we set out on the road for our new camp in our dirty excursion crammed full of gear, we didn't exactly expect anything to go wrong along the way - due to our travel experiences from the past. Yet, when we heard a loud scraping noise four hours in on the drive up, on some strangely barren logging road, we knew that there would be a slight delay in our arrival. It turns out, one of the shocks on the right/rear suspension broke loose, and it was dangling from the bottom of the truck, scraping along the road. We pulled over, inspected the situation, and unloaded everything in search of a jack. To our less than fortunate dismay, the jack was missing, and as such, we had to think on our toes for a new solution. Dan suggested we attempt to repair the shock by screwing in the missing bolts, yet little did he know that they flew off somewhere miles back along the side of the road. Another one of us suggested that we drove back slowly and far enough to be in radio contact with Dustin, and call for help. This however was too risky of an option, so we formulated a safer plan. We had a roll of duct tape and some bungees at our disposal, so we went to town (macgyver style) on the shock - taped it up, bungeed it nice and tight, and we were on our way. Rather than risking the extra four hours of the drive, we (being Dan, Cody, Katelyn, Mark and I - the remaining five-pack crew) decided to camp out at a familiar spot from last years adventure.
When we arrived at the campsite from last year, I could clearly remember the exact location of my tent, and in fact, I even found one of the pegs, still deep in the ground. Cody and Katelyn gathered some logs and rocks and made a nice little fire, while Dan, Mark, and I set up some lines and lures, and went fishing. In total we caught around ten differently sized trout - a couple of them being pretty big and meaty, and we gutted them, filleted them, and cooked them on a large rock set inside the fire. It was a truly wonderful self-sufficient camping experience, and it will remain in my mind as a fond memory.
As we finally made our way over to the actual bush camp, we weren't expecting so many little tiny flying companions. The bugs there were ruthless and abundant in the plentifuls. Some nights it would sound like it was raining heavily in my tent, yet when I zipped open the tent door and looked up, I could locate the source of the sound - thousands upon thousands of tiny little black flies incessantly pecking at the rainfly, and I do not exaggerate. Every time I had to leave my tent, I would throw on my bug jacket (the forcefield), and run quickly to my desired location, zipping up my tent in a flash. Eating breakfast and dinner was an ordeal, as the mosquitoes were so bad in the mess tent, that we spent more time swatting in frustration than actually eating our food. In less than ten days, my entire body has been peppered with lumps and bites.
But enough about the bugs, lets get into the work aspect. The land in the Abitibi contract was generally pretty good. Hilly 13 cent cream for the most part, and coming from the hell that was the mounds, this land seemed like a walk in the park. Mark and I began hitting 2500 a day with ease, and the $300 earning at the end of the day made the life a little more bearable. I even hit a new personal best - 2820 trees - which was a strenuosly difficult day, but quite the personal accomplishment.
The two shifts flew by rather quickly, and before we knew it, it was time for us to pack up camp and head home. We partied hard at the end, drank many a beer, and I had a great time. I was more than happy to pack up my smelly buggy tent, and get going on the road.
To sum up this long eventful journey: I feel I've grown much stronger as a person, both mentally and physically, and the lack of civilization has made me appreciate the Earth in all its natural splendor and beauty. I will miss the mountains, the epic unpredictable clouds, and the cool soothing breezes that sweep through the valleys. Only five of us stuck it out in the end, and they have become like family to me - and I will miss all of you guys, especially those of you who are far away and difficult to get in touch with.
Next year will be the true test of my planting abilities, as I grow more weathered and defined as a less than quasi-veteran. Until then, I wish you all a safe, happy, and prosperous year, and it has been a pleasure reporting my adventures to you (whomever you may be).
over and out,
- James
When I look back at what I put myself through for the last three weeks, I regard it mereley as a long stretched out dream - a dream that could only be induced through a long period of hibernation. However, as my epidermis tingles slightly in the area behind my ears, I automatically proceed to scratch at a set of lumps - souvenirs from an all-too-lucid pleasant nightmare. I hop in the shower, and I scrub every last molecule of dirt from the bush off of me, in a hygenic effort to renew myself in this habitat of cleanliness. The sheer amount of comfort that is available to me makes me shudder with disbelief - everything seems just a little too perfect. The bush will do this to you, and for some strange unexplainable reason, I slightly yearn for the minute punishments that I have already grown so accustomed to. At last, there is much to do, yet I cannot decide exactly what I would like to do, for there isn't really anybody around to tell me what to do. I suppose I could play the piano, watch television, or just straight up relax. Those don't seem like bad ideas.
Having moved into a new camp, 8 hours from town, approximately 12 days ago, I haven't really had the oppurtunity to share my experiences with you online, due to the lack of transportation to and from town. However, to satiate your curiously hungry minds, I'll give you a slightly articulate low down.
When we set out on the road for our new camp in our dirty excursion crammed full of gear, we didn't exactly expect anything to go wrong along the way - due to our travel experiences from the past. Yet, when we heard a loud scraping noise four hours in on the drive up, on some strangely barren logging road, we knew that there would be a slight delay in our arrival. It turns out, one of the shocks on the right/rear suspension broke loose, and it was dangling from the bottom of the truck, scraping along the road. We pulled over, inspected the situation, and unloaded everything in search of a jack. To our less than fortunate dismay, the jack was missing, and as such, we had to think on our toes for a new solution. Dan suggested we attempt to repair the shock by screwing in the missing bolts, yet little did he know that they flew off somewhere miles back along the side of the road. Another one of us suggested that we drove back slowly and far enough to be in radio contact with Dustin, and call for help. This however was too risky of an option, so we formulated a safer plan. We had a roll of duct tape and some bungees at our disposal, so we went to town (macgyver style) on the shock - taped it up, bungeed it nice and tight, and we were on our way. Rather than risking the extra four hours of the drive, we (being Dan, Cody, Katelyn, Mark and I - the remaining five-pack crew) decided to camp out at a familiar spot from last years adventure.
When we arrived at the campsite from last year, I could clearly remember the exact location of my tent, and in fact, I even found one of the pegs, still deep in the ground. Cody and Katelyn gathered some logs and rocks and made a nice little fire, while Dan, Mark, and I set up some lines and lures, and went fishing. In total we caught around ten differently sized trout - a couple of them being pretty big and meaty, and we gutted them, filleted them, and cooked them on a large rock set inside the fire. It was a truly wonderful self-sufficient camping experience, and it will remain in my mind as a fond memory.
As we finally made our way over to the actual bush camp, we weren't expecting so many little tiny flying companions. The bugs there were ruthless and abundant in the plentifuls. Some nights it would sound like it was raining heavily in my tent, yet when I zipped open the tent door and looked up, I could locate the source of the sound - thousands upon thousands of tiny little black flies incessantly pecking at the rainfly, and I do not exaggerate. Every time I had to leave my tent, I would throw on my bug jacket (the forcefield), and run quickly to my desired location, zipping up my tent in a flash. Eating breakfast and dinner was an ordeal, as the mosquitoes were so bad in the mess tent, that we spent more time swatting in frustration than actually eating our food. In less than ten days, my entire body has been peppered with lumps and bites.
But enough about the bugs, lets get into the work aspect. The land in the Abitibi contract was generally pretty good. Hilly 13 cent cream for the most part, and coming from the hell that was the mounds, this land seemed like a walk in the park. Mark and I began hitting 2500 a day with ease, and the $300 earning at the end of the day made the life a little more bearable. I even hit a new personal best - 2820 trees - which was a strenuosly difficult day, but quite the personal accomplishment.
The two shifts flew by rather quickly, and before we knew it, it was time for us to pack up camp and head home. We partied hard at the end, drank many a beer, and I had a great time. I was more than happy to pack up my smelly buggy tent, and get going on the road.
To sum up this long eventful journey: I feel I've grown much stronger as a person, both mentally and physically, and the lack of civilization has made me appreciate the Earth in all its natural splendor and beauty. I will miss the mountains, the epic unpredictable clouds, and the cool soothing breezes that sweep through the valleys. Only five of us stuck it out in the end, and they have become like family to me - and I will miss all of you guys, especially those of you who are far away and difficult to get in touch with.
Next year will be the true test of my planting abilities, as I grow more weathered and defined as a less than quasi-veteran. Until then, I wish you all a safe, happy, and prosperous year, and it has been a pleasure reporting my adventures to you (whomever you may be).
over and out,
- James
posted by J-kash at 9:47 AM
1 Comments:
James-o,
"Acts of creation are ordinarily reserved for gods and poets, but humbler folk may circumvent this restriction if they know how. To plant a pine, for example, one need neither be god nor poet; one need only own a shovel. By virtue of this curious loophole in the rules, any clodhopper may say: Let there be a tree - and there will be one. If his back be strong and his shovel sharp, there may eventually be ten thousand. And in the seventh year he may lean upon his shovel, and look upon his trees, and find them good."
-Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac
So proud of you bro. Seriously. Congrats on surviving the treeplanting season, and enjoy soaking up the luxuries of home sweet home.
xoxo
your sis
Post a Comment
<< Home