Magnificent Treachery

The storm of clanging blades on rocky mounds has abated, and alas the bittersweet migration to new land has occurred. After a night of boisterous partying with jello shots, porchclimbers (a pungent mixture of beer, liquor, lemonade, and random juice lying around), and various other methods of inebriation, we all gathered at the break of dawn, sullen-lidded and sleepy eyed, with our tents shoddily packed up for the drive to Blue River. We said all our goodbyes, signed cards, exchanged emails and hugs; all half alive as if the entire Tolco contract was merely a rough dream we awakened to with cold sweats.

After a peaceful drive through the valleys cushioned by rocky peaks, we arrived at our destination - the Summit River Lodgep; a bed and breakfast nestled between the Alberta Glacier and a slew of snowy peaks yearning to be explored. The accommodations are of the upmost opulence - a timber frame lodge complete with a fireplace, high-definition satellite tv, a carpet that massages are poor boot-battered feet, and a view too painting-perfect to believe it's reality. The hosts are two of the jolliest and kindest grandparents-in-training I've ever had the privilege of knowing. They both go out of there way to provide us with the most delicious treeplanting breakfasts, lunches, and dinners that our scrubby mouths have ever enjoyed in generous salivation. A few examples: homemade french toast, perfectly crisp bacon, freshly baked muffins, awesome scrambled eggs - and then for dinner, turkey (dark and white meat pre-seperated) with all the fixin's (and even more fixin's to fix the abundance of the other fixin's). So the life before and after planting is cozy and delicious. But lets's not be hasty - the planting is ROUGH.

The only saving grace, aside from the hospitality of camp, of the treacherous slopey and shnarby land, is the mesmerizing view that surrounds the block. The drive to work is long and scenic, with waterfalls seeping down lush green mountainsides, moose grazing below in a vast field of swamp, and jagged peaks that hide in puffy clouds. Once we arrive at our destination, we get out with seratonin still running strong in our tired bones, and the bugs have their breakfast feast of super ultra healthy planter blood. We bag up gargantuan loads of 108 trees - six to a bundle, with plugs thicker than your average biggie-sized chocolate bar. Our hips are immediately pleading for relief, but the task at hand remains. We spelunker our way down a jungle of wet brush, as if diving into a pond for a full-day swim. It's a fill plant, and we have been given bags of fertilizer to add to the painful weight we already bear. Speaking of bears, let me recount to you the scariest moment of my life:

On our first shift back, we were given a piece on a special mission that was steeper than a triple black diamond heli-ski run, with a rock face up near the treeline. The first section was creamy mounds as far as our eyes could see, and then once the fine milky sludge had recieved our trees, we had to face the steeper incline to the treeline. On my last bagup, I was clustering with two other planters (Katelyn and Cody). We had all moved into the last remaining piece of land, and I was first to the top. It had just rained making the climb to the top slightly more hazardous than it already was. I was instructed by my foreman Katie to plant all the way to the top, so being the aspiring hobbit (with mutant height), I scrambled my way up, holding on to thin branches with one hand, and my staff shovel planted in the ground as a fulcrum to lift myself up. I glanced back down at the road, and the view reminded me of Micromachines.. but a strange treeplanting edition with tiny dinky-car f-150's and checker vehicles. Anyway, I started to plant my whopper of a spruce, and then I hear a huffing and a rumble in the bushes.. directly in front of me. I drop my tree, paralyzed by the notion of such a loud strange noise coming from an unpopulated area of land, and I slowly look up. What do I see? A massive (I mean freaking massive!) brown bear looking me straight in the eye. My first instinct? Run as fast I can in the opposite direction. I shout down to the planters below me "THERE'S A BEAR! HOLY SHIT!" - I start to book it down the slope, bags and all, as the bear approaches nearer. My heart is literally pounding and I can feel the adrenaline scourge through my system. Katelyn and Cody begin to yell in reply, "JAMES! DON'T RUN! DON'T RUN!" - but still, I ran.. I ran so far aw-aay (word up Flock of Seaguls) - and then I slowed down, and looked back. Right where I had been only seconds ago stood a monstrous brown/black bear at the top of the slope. We all walked carefully down to the bottom, yelling "BEAR ON THE BLOCK" along the way. In the furthest piece, Dan (aka The Wind) and Mike Ross aka (Lazza Gun Soundsystem) caught wind of our cries - Mike retorted "Beer o'clock?". I found Katie, our crewboss, told her that I wasn't going up there any more, and then rested again the excursion, my knees shaking from fear.

The next week, back on the Blue River land, I encountered another bear, right after dropping a morning load in the treeline (if you get my smelly drift), and BAM! there's a black bear looking curiously in my direction about ten metres away. I think to myself "Oh god. Not again.", and then I remembered the "Bear Aware" video we all watched at the beginning of the year. So I hopped on the nearest stump, made myself look much taller than I already am, and held my staff up, while politely telling the bear "Woah bear, keep moving, go away bear!". 15 minutes later of the same message, the bear finally meandered off, and I ran up to alert Cody who I was partner planting with. At that point, the bear had gathered its cubs, and I had just gotten out in the nick of time. They moved off into the bush towards the river, so we continued planting, paranoid at every tiny crack of a twig, and making random loud noises to let the bear be aware of our presence. " Hey oh! Woah! Bgah!" - kinda went like that.

Anyway, the land is pretty bad, but it just got better. With all our numbers being under a thousand, we finally got our just desserts with a creamy block that was completely burnt, with a most spectacular view, which you will have the privilege of seeing shortly once I convince Cody to upload his pictures (their are some really EPIC ones).

So life goes on, two days remain here at the luxurious Blue River resort, and I think I might go for a hike up to a waterfall in a few hours. Once the contract is over, I'm heading northbound towards Burns Lake (just a few hours north of Prince George) to partake in the summer contract with a new company and crew for Summit Reforestation. It should be an interesting change with some interesting new people, so Cody, Dan, and I are very much looking forward to it. And it's the northern land that I can plant fast in, so it should be a profitable trip methinks.

I will report back soon with news of what life is like up North,

Until next time,
Shut up and plant.

- Jameso

Shivering June

Alas, after the constant barrage of rocks in our wake, we have been given cream; sweet dirty mounds smooth and supple as butter. Yet the new treat has come with a price. Cold, finger-numbing weather to hinder our sanity as we pound the endless sea of mounds. Bearing a bomber cap and a waxed cotton aussie jacket, I gaze into the stew of puffy grey clouds stirring the air. Waves of blue flagging tape aimlessly flail about like a flock of shiny birds, and the sticky mud collects on the spade with each spear toss into the mounds, what once was cream is now a thick icy sludge of mud and hail pellets. Thunder slams the earth and I hear the enthusiastic cries of planters off in the distance, sharing their grief for the stormy solace. And then, the horn is honked to round up the shivering rookies and vets, and we all crowd in the 'scurge (the Excursion) muddied from the hard day's work, happy to hear the sound of music and heated air conditioning.

Money has started to finally accumulate, and yet it is the least of my concerns. Guitars, campfires, and sleeping bags fill the void that planting all day digs in your mind. The night before the day off, wax tree boxes are stacked in a chimney formation on the fire, exploding into a wall of flame as the inebriated folk howl in awe and warmth. Just inside the cook shack, Cody, a man from PEI named Andy, Dennis, and a couple other folk whom I have forgotten their names, all jam frantically with four guitars and my dirty hands pummeling the djembe. Rocky, the Kenyan camp boy sings in rhythmic hymns "BAG UP BAG UP BAG UP - STRRRRETCH!", and the crowd goes buck-wild.

The morning settles in, I'm snug as lanky hotdog in a slightly damp bun, and I rub my eyes to wash away the remnants of dirt and strange dreams of myself meeting Steven Spielberg and announcing to him my utter dissapointment and distaste in his latest edition of the Indiana Jones saga. Nonetheless, I get up, not knowing the time (as my alarm clock has gone AWOL), and I hit up the Husky gas and convenience station for a muffin/coffee combo brekky. The sun shines, the hacky sacks start to fly, and life is comfortable once again.

Only two shifts remain in this southern BC planting adventure, and the long slog of a Greyhound trip seems only like yesterday. The summer contract seems to be non existent at this point, so I plan on venturing northbound and joining a different company and a different crew, with Summit Reforestation, to add to the epilogue of this grueling financial journey. Luckily, I know the crew boss - he is in my film program, so I should be able to settle in nicely.

A vacation may be in order in the next few weeks, to satiate my hunger for laziness, sand, and possibly surfing in either Penticton or Vancouver.. but I will have to pound another shift to make it happen. I finally broke the 2k mark again, and I'm attempting to manage a consistent $300 or more bones a day, so things are looking up. But the work is tiresome.. very very tiresome.

With all the free time in my head during the day, I've been sifting through songs saved through memory, imagining new songs, films, and scenarios at home. I await the third year of school, with a new home, new friends, and new experiences. In the meantime, all I gotta do is shut up and plant.

Until next time,
P'James