After finishing my last blog post, I give my laptop to Molly for her to read it (she’s probably the most avid reader of anyone). While she is reading it, I walk back to my tent to read, or really to do anything to distract myself from the knowledge that someone is reading my writing. After an hour or so, I hear someone walking toward my tent.
“Anneke?” Molly’s voice calls out, “are you in there?” I open the door of the tent and stick my head out. “Sorry,” she says, “were you sleeping? Did I wake you up?” When I shake my head, she kneels down and gives me a huge hug.
“I just read your blog,” she says, holding me tight, “If I’d known how you were responding to everything that one day on the block, I’d never have kept going on at you. I just wasn’t sure if you were getting it, you know? Sometimes you can’t tell whether a planter is really taking it in if they don’t respond. If I’d known you’d got it right away, I wouldn’t have kept pressing it.”
“It’s all good,” I say, hugging her back.
“Also,” she says, moving away slightly and reaching her hand up to stroke my hair between her fingers. Her manner is kind and warm as she looks at me with an expression of earnest concern. “We’re going to talk about James.”
For the most part, she talks about James and I say very little. We briefly talk about other things as well, like school and depression and drugs, all of which Molly has experienced before as well. I don’t generally talk to people about this kind of personal stuff because it feels so selfish and indulgent, but Molly came to me, so maybe in this case it isn’t. Even so, I don’t even know how to talk about this kind of stuff to people.
A few days later, I realize that I really do want someone to open up to. It feels strange and unfamiliar asking Molly if we can talk again, but she had offered to talk anytime, and asks if I’d like to come along when she drives to the reefer to load up every night. I agree to come along.
On the drive to the reefer, I explain more about the situation with James and she listens intently to every word, asking questions at various points. She’s known James for a very long time, having planted with him many years and living in the same region, so I feel free to tell her everything.
When we get to the reefer, I climb inside and find the different tree species that we need, then slide the boxes over to where Molly has parked the truck. I pass them down to her while she stacks them into the Fist. One by one, the truck is loaded with thirty-two tree boxes. After she jumps out of the Fist and I jump out of the reefer, we close the doors to them both and climb back into the cab.
On the way back, we talk more about James, her saying straight-up what she thinks and offering advice. It feels so legitimizing. When we get back to camp, she parks the truck and we stay there talking for a long, long time. I feel like, had I been talking to anyone else, I’d have groaned and left the truck the second she said straight-up “he’s not the one for you,” but Molly isn’t coming from a place of indignant authority. So often people become so much more attached to their own advice than to reason they’re even giving it that they become upset or offended if people don’t follow it. It’s not like that with Molly though. She is genuinely trying to help and tell me what she thinks, speaking from a place of kindness and experience, but she isn’t so passionate about her own advice that she’d be upset if I didn’t follow it. And there is a very low chance that I’ll follow. But her being there is what makes all the difference.
“Come here, give me a hug,” she says after a while, climbing out of the cab. When we meet in front of the truck, I end up bursting into tears while she holds me.
During one shift, the Health-and-Safety lady is going to be on the blocks with us, so we make sure everything is done “properly”. There is a bag of extra whistles on the table in the mess tent in the morning because nobody actually carries a whistle on them. On the drive to the block, we fill out the safety hazards worksheet out loud, rather than Molly filling it out on her own, so everyone knows what to tell the lady if she asks us. Molly also tells us the number of the block and makes sure we all remember it. As we start to bag up, Molly pulls out a whole pile of high-viz gear and examines bags and gear. Chad doesn’t have high-viz and mine is dirty to the point of no longer being “highly visible”, so Molly ties strips of it onto our bags. By the time we head out, the six of us are all fully prepared, ideal pictures of “safe workers”.
When the lady does come, we all have perfect answers to all her questions. I smile, knowing that, under any other circumstance, I would have absolutely no idea what the block number is or much else we are being quizzed on today.
“And you know, it’s very important to wear seatbelts,” the lady says, to which Molly nods enthusiastically, “out in Ontario last year, this one planter wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and the truck hit a bump in the road. She slammed her head into the roof of the truck and got a concussion!”
“Yeah, I could totally see that happening,” Molly responds conversationally, “earlier this year, something similar happened to Kendall here. We hit a bump and she went flying, almost hitting the roof!” She gestures toward Kendall, who nods obediently.
“Oh I see,” says the safety lady in a concerned tone, then adds, “but you were wearing your seat belt though.” Kendall freezes for a moment.
“Yeah…” she lies awkwardly, “I guess just not tight enough.”
“I see,” says the safety lady, “yes, you have to make sure you’re not only wearing them, but they are nice and snug as well.” Chad stands up, ready to head out into the block.
“I’m not sure that counts as high-viz enough,” says the safety lady, gesturing toward Chad’s bags, “it needs to be clearer and bigger than that. Can you even see that from far away?”
“Oh yeah,” Molly says reassuringly, “you can see it, and plus you never forget it if it’s on your bags.”
“Oh, okay, that is pretty clear,” admits the safety lady as Chad makes his way further into the block, the high-viz still glowing from his bags.
“I thought about making high-viz gaiters!” Molly calls from the truck, happily demonstrating with a piece of high-viz wrapped around her leg. That’s a really bad idea, I think, you wouldn’t be able to see them while walking through slash, and they’d be the first to get dirty. Isn’t the whole point of high-viz to be ‘highly visible’? Of course, I wouldn’t actually say this.
After a little longer, the safety lady leaves our block to make her way toward another crew. Alas, we have passed the test (even though I wasn’t carrying a whistle the entire time she was there).
On last planting day of Cathy and Rainer’s contract, nearly all of our crews are working nearly two hours outside of camp in one large fill plant. It’s always pretty messy when there are multiple crews working one block, so I don’t understand why they save the huge blocks like this until the end when everybody is just excited to finish the contract.
At one point, Molly is still standing back at the landing while everyone else on our crew is out planting already.
“CHAD, THAT’S DISGUSTING!” her shout suddenly booms out toward us. I look up to see her stomping angrily around the landing, a white roll of toilet paper in her hand, “That is so gross!” she continues shouting. Looking the other direction toward Chad, he is planting alongside one of the girls on our crew who he constantly flirts with. Right now, however, he looks quite confused.
“You know,” Molly continues hollering once she has her bags on and starts heading into the block, “it’s customary in human societies to, um, bury your crap!” I nearly double over laughing at hearing this, imagining Molly going to look for a place to shit and coming across Chad’s shit in the process.
By the time we switch to another section of the block, the day has grown incredibly hot and sunny. Nevertheless, we all hike for a ways down the deactivated road until we finally reach the piece. Molly finds several sweet-smelling flowers on the block and tucks them into the string around her hat.
“Wanna smell my head?!” she says excitedly, leaning down and shoving her head toward people as though she’s about to ram into them.
Driving down to another part of the block that still has both space and trees left, I notice that all of the gummy candies in my Ziplock bag have melted into one giant candy. Poking it, I realized disappointedly that the whole thing is still gooey as well, and picking at it would be such a mess. Chad, however, is not deterred by the gooey mess. He happily takes the bag and sticks his fingers into the giant glob of gooey sweetness.
Another crew joins us in this area, and together we bag up all the trees that are left and head out into the block. By the time we finish, we all have around fifty trees each left in our bags. Thinking we are finished the block and just need to get rid of the leftover trees, we begin planting the sides of the road and double plant the road edge.
“What are you doing?!” Dave exclaims, jumping out of his truck and running toward us in a rage, “You can’t plant the ditch, and why are you double planting over there?! You guys are crazy! I’m outta here; I’m on garbage duty. I’m gone!” He then jumps back in his truck, turns around, and quits the block entirely.
It turns out that there is yet another section of the block that has not been planted yet, but all the other crews are either completely out of trees or headed back to camp. Our crew is the only one to head over there. It holds enough room to plant around 5000 trees, but there are only around sixty trees between the six of us.
“Plant wide and space off everything!” Molly calls as we head jump out of the truck and walk toward the block, “plant out the front; make it look like it’s been planted!” We space nearly four metres off the burn pile and respect every natural we see; even poplars. Finally, we finish all of our trees and walk off this extremely-underplanted block.
On the drive back to camp, Molly suddenly lets out an extremely loud scream and the truck suddenly comes to an immediate halt. Gwen, Kendall, and I are in the back and look around frantically while grasping for any solid object to hang onto as we are thrown forward.
“Did we hit it?! Did we hit it?!” Molly shrieks, her eyes darting all over the road. Over the seat, I see Chad with a huge grin on his face.
“Molly…” Gwen half-whimpers, half-sighs, while leaning forward to rest her head on the seat, her eyes closed.
Molly lets out a huge sigh, starting to drive forward again. Kendall and I look at each other in confusion; we are still utterly clueless as to what just happened.
“Molly, you don’t scream like that for rodents!” Gwen cries in exasperation, lifting her head back up, “you scared me so much!”
“I’m sorry, it just doesn’t feel good to run over a living thing!” Molly responds in defense, “that animal just ran right in front of us!”
It’s 7:30 by the time we get back to camp and Nina has made delicious hors d’oeuvres and set them out. There are bacon-wrapped scallops, cucumber slices topped with goat cheese, purple jelly, and a pecan, bacon-wrapped cantaloupe, meat slices, baked and caramelized brie, and other delicious things. I fill a plate high with delicious food and sit with a bunch of other planters; some of the crews have been back at camp since two o’clock. The live band that Cathy arranged is busy setting up the mess tent.
As it gets darker, I don’t bother getting drunk. When I come back a while later, there are not too many people around the fire. I sit down and talk to a few people, curling up next to Sophia and thanking her for our cuddle session on the last night off (because it had been much-needed). She tells me that I remind her of her younger self and I respond that, if I end up anything like her, then all is well.
Next, I sit next to Kristen and Francois (in reality, Kristen and Kendall have the same name, but for confusion’s sake they’re different here). Francois is quite drunk, so his hilarious antics are even more exaggerated than usual. At one point however, he starts talking a bit about the different natural roles for men and women, to which Kristen and I, both strong feminists, start becoming a bit cold toward
Right as he is getting into it, Edmund, another guy from camp, leans over and slurs “Francois, I get the feeling you’re about to say something really stupid, so so why don’t you stop it before you start.” Edmund soon after falls fast asleep in his chair, wearing nothing but tight black leggings, an open white bathrobe, and bright pink Crocs. Truly sleeping like a king.
A while later, I find myself sitting beside Candace. We talk about how we’ve finished another year of planting (we were both greeners together last year) and how it was so much easier second year. She is going to plant summer trees in Clearwater wither several other planters in the camp (both her brothers, Molly and Max, Caedon, Francois, Edmund, Tabi, Vincent, and a couple planters from the other camp. The Clearwater contract goes much later into July (around the 18th or 19th), but I’d rather be with James and Ellie for his two-week contract.
After Candace heads to bed, Tabi invites me over to where she and Kristen are cuddling together on top of a pile of boxes. I join them, but Kristen heads to bed after a while, inviting us to come along. Tabi and I join her a few minutes later and we all fall asleep curled up next to each other.
The next morning, camp take-down begins early, long before I wake up. After packing up my stuff and place it in Uncle Jim’s truck. I say good-bye to Uncle Jim, who is going to go plant some rehabbed roads for a few hours.
“Now, I might be going over the border,” he says, eyeing me and my stuff suspiciously, “so there’s… uh… nothing illegal in there is there?” I shake my head: no.
Eventually I make my way toward the disassembled mess tent. Chad and Gwen are putting the giant tent poles into canvas bags, so I help.
Saying good-bye to everyone and passing around hugs is so difficult. Nina, however, makes it much easier.
“Say hello to that crazy boyfriend of yours!” Nina laughs off the top of her head before turning back into the almost-all-packed kitchen trailer. Huh? I think, laughing, but then move on, still bewildered by her statement.
Saying good-bye to Molly is the hardest. She walks over with me to where Vincent is going to pick up my stuff (he is driving to Vancouver and dropping me off in Crawford bay on the way).
“So you’re headed back to the Kootenays,” she says as we walk over to the other side of camp, “Are you going to let him treat you like you don’t matter?” I say nothing and we walk in silence the rest of the way. When we arrive, I pull out a little bag of black gumdrops with a note inside and hand them to Molly. She gives me a long, long hug.
“Get mad,” she says after we pull away, “don’t just give him what he wants. People don’t appreciate what they get for free, so don’t do it. You have to stick up for yourself because nobody else will. And I’m sure it’s not intentional; he doesn’t mean to treat you like shit, but you have to stick up for yourself.” She is looking at me intently, trying to send enough self-confidence my way to actually do what she is saying.
Tabi and Gwen pass by us on their way out and we wave at them. Eventually, we hug again and she makes her way back to where she and Max are packing up all their stuff. Driving out of camp with Vincent, I tear up a bit; I’ll miss this camp so much. It’s a full year until I can see everyone again.
Vincent stops along the way to pick up flowers. I fall asleep a couple times because he drives his tiny car so slowly down the logging road so it doesn’t fall apart. Several other trucks and cars leaving camp pass us on the way down. Two and a half hours later, we make it to the highway and start toward the Kootenays.
Vincent is headed out to Vancouver for a few days before starting planting at the Clearwater contract. We talk about summer trees, planting, boys, and other things.
“You know,” Vincent giggles guiltily, “I had the biggest crush on James last year.”
“He knew,” I respond automatically, smiling. Vincent erupts in laughter.
“Really?” he looks at me wide-eyed, a huge grin on his face, “How?”
“Well, at the end party last year…”
“Oh no,” Vincent slaps his hand over his mouth, bursting with embarrassed laughter, “what did I do? Oh, I was so drunk that night!”
“Well, he said you were just extremely friendly and touchy,” I explain, “and you were talking about how things were about to end between you and your boyfriend at the time. Then you told him ‘James, you know you are a very sexy man’. It also didn’t help that you went to that party wearing nothing but a bunch of fruit strung around your crotch.”
“Oh noooo!” Vincent leans forward, almost exploding with laughter, “oh, I think I flirted with so many guys that night. I’m pretty sure I just wanted to make out with them. How did he take it, do you know?”
“He said he was glad when I came over and threw my arms around you both,” I answer, “he was a bit uncomfortable. Like… he’s not as open as he could be. When he told me, I was like ‘good! I’m glad you had that experience. It’s good to be uncomfortable once in a while’.” Vincent laughs some more, letting out a few more embarrassed moans.
“And you?” he asks after a moment, “were you attracted to any of the boys or girls in camp this year?”
“Not really,” I answer, “that really wasn’t on my mind at all this year.”
“Is it generally only men you’re attracted to?” he asks, then adds jokingly, “I mean, I can totally understand if it is. I absolutely love men.”
“Romantically, yeah, mostly,” I answer, “but women are absolutely incredible. I feel like I’m attracted to certain types of people more than any specific gender.” Vincent nods.
“I think I may pull up Tinder to see if there are any attractive men in Nelson tonight,” he says excitedly. I laugh. Definitely not the train of thought I was on.
“I’m a little nervous about using an actual washroom again,” I admit to Vincent while heading into the gas station.
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” he laughs. It really is a strange feeling, going into a tiny little white room to sit on some ivory chair with a giant hole in the middle. While sitting down, I remember the message I had sent James a few days ago about whether everything’s all still good for me heading over there, considering how things had been getting a bit rocky. Turning on the wifi on my iPod, I receive his response: I expect you. All is well then, I assume. When going to wash my hands afterward, I suddenly notice my own face staring back at me in the mirror above the sink.
Whoa there, I jump back slightly, startled by my reflection, haven’t seen you in a while. My face is really tan. It actually almost looks orange. Weird.
“Did you manage?” Vincent asks with mock sincerity when I get back in the car, “Did you manage to use the washroom okay?”
“Ha! All good,” I respond, “your turn.”
“Here goes,” he chuckles nervously and heads out, “I hope I can remember too.”
Back on the road, Vincent asks if he can look at the music on my computer. He has a long drive ahead of him and his music selection is getting low. I show him some artists and load up his iPod. I am only slightly disgraced by his disinterest in the wonderful Great Big Sea. “Too fishy” he calls it. Pugh! I give him Adele, Fretless, MGMT, Loreena McKennit, Mumford & Sons, and a few others. Going through the music on his computer, I find Adham Shaikh, Rising Appalachia, Delhi2Dublin, Lady Antebellum, Lindsey Sterling and others. I put a bunch of it onto a USB stick to put onto my own iPod later.
Arriving at James’ house, there is a small party going on to celebrate the ending of their contract in a few days. The atmosphere happy and friendly, and James wraps both of us in a giant hug when we arrive. Ellie looks surprised and elated to see me and she give me a big hug. Two of her friends are there as well; they are adventuring to their home in India on the other side of the house. There are burgers, sausage, chips, and probably the most delicious potato salad and cheesecake I’ve had in a while. Most of his planters are there, as well as several people I had met last summer. It lasts late into the night.
As people leave, I give a big hug to Vincent and wish him luck in the Clearwater contract. Ellie cries and does not want to leave, but she and her mom head out as well.
“When will I see you again?” Ellie demands, grabbing my knees and looking directly at me.
“The next time you’re here!” I laugh, stroking her hair, “I’ll be here for a while.”
“She’s staying the summer again, Ellie!” James chimes in.
“When am I going to be here next, mum?” Ellie asks her mother.
“You’re coming back here on Friday, Ellie,” Ellie’s mom responds, and then they head out.
Once everyone’s gone, I head into the shower (I haven’t showered in days and probably smell absolutely disgusting). Rather than fishing my own towel out of my backpack, I grab a clean one off the shelf upstairs. While standing under the warm shower, James walks in to drop off some dishes next to the tub. He stops for a moment and smiles at me.
“I just want to look at you,” he says playfully, his eyes dancing across my body.
“Ha!” I laugh in response, “Well look but don’t smell because my armpits are not de-stinking. I’ve scrubbed them like four times now!”
“You could try shaving them,” he says, reaching for his razor on the side of the tub and handing it over to me. A razor, I think, taking it from him, that’ll probably work. Sure enough, the smell of sweat leaves with the hair as it falls from my armpits.
Still wrapped in the towel, I lay on the bed with my iPod. I haven’t actually contacted anyone yet since before camp ended, so I message a couple people to let them know that spring trees are finished. While doing this, James walks in and collapses on the bed across my lap.
“Hey you,” he says, crawling over until he’s half beside me and half on top of me, “I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
“Yeah,” I smile, “well this is a home, isn’t it?” He groans playfully and brings his face alongside mine, brushing against my cheek.
“I was wondering if you guys were going to show up,” he says, pulling away, “your text bothered me.”
“I was angry and hurt,” I respond as he heads upstairs to grab more blankets (there is currently only one small one on the bed).
“No, I could see how you were upset, but you weren’t hurt,” he calls down as he makes his way back down. “And,” he continues, re-entering the bedroom with blankets, “there is absolutely no need to be angry.” Immediately as he says this, I hear Molly’s voice in my head. ‘Get mad,’ she had said. Now isn’t the time though. I haven’t seen James in so long and he’s in a good mood right now. I say nothing as we put the blankets on the bed. I really don’t remember if anything else was said, but I definitely remember him tenderly wrapping me up in his arms and kissing me.
“Let’s sleep naked,” I say around an hour later as we’re laying in each others' arms.
“Sleep naked?” he smiles, gliding his fingers along my bare skin, “you’re the only one who was ever opposed to that.”
“I know,” I respond as his fingers softly make their way up to my face, “but I haven’t seen you in so long. I just want to be close to you.” He kisses my forehead and pulls me close until we fall asleep.
Alas, the spring tree contract with Cathy and Rainer has ended and James’ summer tree contract starts in a couple days. Out with the old and in with the new: hopefully here comes a summer as wonderful as last year.
PS - don't forget about the Palestine delegation in which I am participating in August 2017! Around $200 has been raised so far - lots more to go! To donate, go to http://cpt.org/donate and follow the steps to donate. Toward the end of the process, there will be a box that says "donation inspired by". Be sure to enter my name in this section to ensure that the donation goes to this delegation.
Peace and love, friends!
PS - don't forget about the Palestine delegation in which I am participating in August 2017! Around $200 has been raised so far - lots more to go! To donate, go to http://cpt.org/donate and follow the steps to donate. Toward the end of the process, there will be a box that says "donation inspired by". Be sure to enter my name in this section to ensure that the donation goes to this delegation.
Peace and love, friends!
