Shovels for Hands and Trees for Feet

Hello all, and apologies for the fact that this is a long time coming. I am neither dead nor too injured, just tired and had a day off on a SUnday, which basically means they roll up the streets and internet doesn't work. Yeah. You think I'm joking.

It has not stopped raining here, I feel like a piece of soggy bread thats falling apart at the crust. Some heartless SOB from another camp stole my rain jacket from the laundry mat and as such I have been braving it in wool sweaters and many layers of thermals. They will mildew in treeplanter hell, where they must plant uphill all the time, never downhill, and must bag up 500 large spruce at a time. And there will be no DEET there, no DEET my friends. I curse them, everyday, every morning, every drop. And if you are out there dear treeplanter, watch your back. For if I catch you in my MEC jacket, I will double plant behind you and steal your flagging tape, and eat your block treats BEFORE I hit you with my shovel. No mercy. NO mercy.

On the lighter side, such rainyness has allowed for such heartening in-camp activities such as- mud wrestling (or digging out the truck in the mud) fire dancing (or running around the fire trying to steam your thermals dry) boot races (who has the most water in their boots) and the 5/15 sprint (commonly known as the five day fifteen hour a day shift). It's like the Treeplanter Olympics, awards vary from cheap whiskey to being on the shitter digging crew. Yay!

I am well - busy, tired, bug bitten - but well. In an effort to procure at least 1 day off between our spring and summer contract we've brought in some planters from a big company that had time off - they're a a little like tree planting mercenaries. Messy, smelly, tough and hardworking. OH.. wait.. we're all like that.. Ok, I think they just drink more? OH..wait.. Regardless, it does not appear that we'll get time off (surprise) but will be moving up to Mackenzie on the 6th, camp set up the 7th, plant the 8th, until the 20th. Sweet lordy. 25 days left, then cherry picking for a month, then home. When you break it up like that it isn't so bad. Like, not so bad like "You have non-terminal cancer".

I miss you all, and will try to get to a computer with photos next day off. I hope all is well - if you see anyone in a red MEC rain jacket.. *draws thumb across throat*

Silviculture

sil·vi·cul·ture - (sĭl'vĭ-kŭl'chur) n. The care and cultivation of forest trees; forestry. Alt - The culture surounding the care and cultivation of forests and trees, usually involving a lot of whiskey, trench foot, PB&J and hopelessness. Oh, and late night dance parties.

It seems like no matter which company you're with, no matter where you plant, no matter what town you're in, that there are just some..standard practices. Dance parties while filing up the gas, spandex tights are perfectly acceptable- and encouraged- to be worn under shorts, (I call this "silvi-couture"), you should eat as much as humanly possible at all times, whiskey cures everything, duck tape is a perfectly acceptable substitute for a) a sewing kit b) electrolysis c) bandaids, and debts are paid in six packs or bundles of trees. It's a pretty good trade for 72 mosquito bites that I have. I got a glass of month old red wine for a reward at the campfire last night. Pretty sweet.

My Office.

Ok, so perhaps it was not as bleak as all this - it actually was very pretty, with three mountain ranges on 3 different sides and a beautiful lake in the middle. However, the constant summer storms with huge rolls of thunder and lightnight, and the fact that I wield a very metal shovel was a tad disconcerting. No more so, however, than the little snake I found and picked up and put in my back picker, assuming it was a dear little garden snake, and was told later by our resident biologist that it was indeed a very poisonous snake. Which completely circumvented my entire plan to get over my ridiculous dislike of snakes. I've now been advised that generally everything red and black in the natural world is poisonous. Whoops.

And then it got better.

I quit. And then I realised, in the hail, the bugs, the mud, the 21 cent land, the devils club, the slash and the hell.. that quitting was actually worse than treeplanting. So I sat in the truck and cried like a child for about 20 minutes, then I put my bags back on and I kept planting. And now that I know that quitting feels worse than the bugs, the bags and trench foot..I guess I'm here to stay. I was officially not a treeplanter for about 20 minutes. And then somebody told me that the reason that I was crying, was that I realised that I actually WAS a treeplanter, and that's pretty much worse. Because now I know I'll be back next summer. With the bugs, the bags, and the trench foot.

(And thanks JL, but I found the Deep Woods off and a bug net, and I'm ok now. And by ok, I mean that it looks like I have chicken pox or maybe pestilence, but I'm proactive. And right now I'm wearing Carharts that haven't been washed in 2 shifts, cowboy boots and a bathing suit top for a bra. Mud could only add to the allure I'm sure.)

I Just Looked Up How To Break My Own Arm

Oh my god. The bugs.. the bugs are out. I look like I have some strange tropical lumpy disease, and they don't care about Deet. In fact, I'm pretty sure that they just see it as a drink with their meal. I seriously consider on a daily .. hourly.. basis, how exactly I could maim myself and make it look like enough of an accident that they might let me go home. I am so exhausted. I want to be a waitress. I will work at Safeway. Just as long as there are no bugs, bears, snakes, or trees. I hate trees.