Treeplanting #21: Chains and Wizards

Note the impressive glove tan.

Perfect timing as Jake douses me with water

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Being on Uncle Jim’s crew has actually been excellent. In my first year, he’d have to explain everything to me, which I think annoyed both of us, but now he expects me to understand and I do. I can appreciate his dry humour so much more now. It’s also amazing how he carries the immense respect of literally every other tree planter. Even Jake, who has a fair bit of pride, is constantly sneaking a glance at Uncle Jim for fear of disappointing or frustrating him.

On my last day, we were on a fairly high-altitude block. These are typically saved for the end of the season because they are still covered in snow at the beginning (at least that's my assumption). However, they also tend to be muddier because the snow melted most recently. Since Uncle Jim drives the "best" truck (I think he's the only one Rainer trusts with it), he's usually sent to the more difficult blocks because his truck has the highest likelihood of actually reaching it. However, since it's his truck that normally pulls out the stuck trucks, he also can't take as many risks with it because if we get stuck, we probably can't get towed out by any of the others. So whoever drives this truck has to be extremely aware of what it can and can't do - another reason why only Uncle Jim drives it. 

We reached the block without any major setbacks. There were a couple fallen trees over the road but driving over them was no problem. However, getting to the landing at the back of the block was a bit more difficult. Uncle Jim ended up pulling out the tire chains, which was exciting and pretty damn effective.

Attaching the tire chains onto the rear wheels

Pre-mud pit chains. I never got a picture of them afterward.

 After the chains were firmly fastened, we could slowly make our way in and out of the massive mud pit blocking the entrance to the rear landing of the block.

We had a party on the last night off and it was actually pretty wild. I didn’t get wasted, but five of my own drinks plus one of a friend’s spread over seven hours can actually keep me tipsy (respect for all the other lightweights out there who can have a good time for less money). A few of the guys had already started playing “Wizard’s Staff” at supper, where they tape every new can of beer they open on top of the one they just finished. When the staff of beers reaches as tall as they are, they become a “Wizard.” The winner is some combination of Tallest Staff and Last Wizard Standing.

Since it was so nice that evening, people pulled all the tables and chairs outside the tent to eat (never mind the fact that this is bush camp – it’s all “outside”). Among the people at our table was Jim (not the uncle, remember – the younger one). At one point, he left his chair to go get something else, leaving his plate and drink at the table. Promptly, Jake confidently strode in an sat himself down in front of Jim’s plate.

Upon Jim’s return, Jake cooed, “oh were you sitting here? Oops.” Jim rolled his eyes, picked up his plate, and switched to another table rather than engage. Two seats over, Jasmine and I made eye contact and grin, both acknowledging the other having witnessed the amusing event.

At some point several hours later (after both food and daylight had long disappeared), Braeden initiated a game of Flip Cup. Unfortunately, the rules of the game were a bit confusing for the inebriated players and several didn’t realize the game of Flip Cup involves flipping their cup. (For anyone unfamiliar with the game, it’s not worth explaining).

At another point, one of the players drove his van toward the mess tent and a couch was hoisted on top. Different people climbed up to sit on the couch at various points. At some point, one of the crew bosses (we’ll call him Leo) jumped from the van onto one of the tables (which were conveniently pulled out of the mess tent, remember?), and everyone cheered. Encouraged by all the cheering, another planter jumped off the van onto the couch, but this time the table bent completely in half. That table was promptly moved out of the way and another put in its place. Next Danan jumped from the van, managing to buckle the legs of the table on the first jump (he also did a sort of side-chop onto it which looked a bit painful). This table was then cleared away to make room for a third table. Before anyone jumped, however, Braeden quietly snuck in, subtly pulled the third table out of the way and replaced it with a tiny plastic lawn chair.

“That’s enough tables…” he said, sort of apprehensively. No more tables were broken after this.

The next morning

There seemed to be sort of fight between Leo and another planter (let’s say Dylan) but they were both too wasted for it to actually become dangerous. They are also both pretty sweet and harmless guys, so the whole thing seemed to alternate between Leo shouting angrily, Dylan looking confused, Leo coming closer and other people starting to get worried, then the two of them just start hugging it out and end up laughing. Then they would separate, but Leo would still look and angry and start shouting again a couple seconds later. Then the whole thing would repeat. An equally wasted and harmless Benoit (who would later move on to become the Champion of Wizard’s Staff) seemed to have appointed himself as Mediator and would sometimes be standing, or rather tottering, between Leo and Dylan to keep the peace. Meanwhile, all three of their Wizard Staffs were looming tall overhead. Well, Benoit’s was looming tall overhead; Dylan’s was looking pretty floppy by that point, the sad result of too many Wizarding Duels.

The next morning, Jasmine, Sandra, and I all headed to the nearby burger bar for hangover food and to chat about the night before. The most exciting part I seemed to have missed was when Braeden was making some sort of disparaging comments about women, so Jasmine (who is quite small) aggressively pounced on his back and put him in a chokehold.

The morning of Day 1 on the next shift, I left. This year, I had to leave camp early to attend a wedding. While the wedding was lovely, leaving camp early was disappointing. I actually started missing the feeling of planting a tree on the drive back from work on Day 3 last shift.

It's so sad seeing all the crews in the morning and my name's not there :(

I came out of my tent around the same time as everyone else, just for breakfast and to say good-bye. I joined Nina in waving good-bye to the trucks (something I’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance). Before leaving, Celine jumped out of Ben’s truck to give me a hug good-bye.

Gross pic of the blog: peeling the dead skin off my feet.

After clearing out my tent, these are the dead wasps I found. Apparently, I wasn't as diligent as I thought I was

While waiting for my ride out of camp, Rainer mounted the quad onto his truck in the most treeplanter-fashion

😢

Treeplanting #20: Camp Drama, Montana, and Fucking Wasps

Dressing up for Montana. Hat courtesy of Uncle Jim. Photo courtesy of Mariya.

Hat courtesy of Uncle Jim. Photo AND belt courtesy of Mariya.

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One shift we had a double day off landing directly on Saturday and Sunday. Jasmine and I decided to cross the border into Montana, exploring the towns of Eureka, Stryker, and Whitefish.

Before going, I decided to pull out all my cowboy-looking gear. I have a planting shirt that looks very Western, borrowed Uncle Jim’s hat, and had recently found a pair of equestrian riding pants at a thrift store. I tied my hair into braids to complete the picture. Mariya, upon seeing me, pulled out her camera and briefly lent me her belt. A photoshoot ensued.

Jasmine and I had no problem crossing the border. The guard asked us questions for about 15 seconds and we were on our way. Jasmine has an impressive collection of Disney music and early-2000s pop music, so we happily sang pretty much the entire way.

We explored the town of Eureka, but it’s a very small town and, being a Sunday, everything was closed. We carried on until we saw a sign for “Stryker.” The grand town of Stryker consists of about six houses and a post office. Outside the post office is a very large sign (bigger than the actual “Stryker” town sign) that reads “SAVE THE STRYKER POST OFFICE.” While taking pictures with the sign, a man in one of the six houses came to sit on his porch and proceeded to play a banjo. It was an extremely suitable instrument for the situation.

Save the Stryker Post Office!! The largest sign in town.

Classic Montana

Equestrian riding pants and pharmacy with an F

Once we made our way to Whitefish, however, the surroundings looked a little more promising. Whitefish is clearly a touristy town and, as such, cares very little for preserving the sanctity of a Sunday by closing everything. We wandered around for a while, exploring various touristy shops. It seems like this part of Montana is split between two political opposites: very left-leaning/“back to earth”/natural healing-style attitudes and then ultra right-wing/pro-Trump/ “protect the first amendment.” There’s no middle ground.

It’s almost the end of the season and I’ve cleared over twenty wasps from my tiny-ass tent. Every day after work, I enter my tent cautiously and peek around before relaxing, trying to spot any black-and-yellow movement before it catches me by surprise. Half the time, the wasps are already dead by the time I find them, and the other half I grab them with a spare sock and toss them out the door before they sting me. So far, four have stung me, but only two were bad enough to keep me awake all night.

These bitches are all over the place

One shift, I was on Dave and Sophia’s crew. This was nice because Sophia and I haven’t been around each other as much this contract. We spent a lot of the shift reminiscing about old times. On the first day, Sophia unfortunately had heavy menstrual cramps and so was bagging light and taking multiple breaks. Every time I passed her on the block, she was doing something weird. The first time, she was just sitting on the block a few metres away, seemingly focused on something.

“You look…invested,” I say.

“Ugh I feel like crap today,” she moans. A few hours later, I pass her again, in a different area of the block but also sitting.

“Don’t mind me,” she says, “just peeing.” The third and fourth times, I come across her sitting again for some reason.

“It’s a wonder I plant any trees at all,” she says.

On the second day, we have the most dramatic weather. In the early morning, it is fairly chilly, so we wear long-sleeve shirts. It warms up pretty quickly though so the sweaters come off early. A few hours later and it’s at least 25 degrees; everyone’s in t-shirts. However, partway through the third bag-up, the weather takes a dramatic turn. It becomes exceedingly cold and windy and begins to rain. Slowly the rain turns to hail. Once the wind slows down, the hail turns to snow. We plant faster to stay warm.

On the drive to work on Day 2, the snow came all the way down to the road (in JUNE!)

On the drive back, Sophia is feeding Dave fruit from a spoon as he focuses on driving.

“Look!” she exclaims, turning the orange spoon toward me, “A chicken!” Two grapes are at the top of the spoon with a small triangle-shaped piece of pineapple underneath. I the bottom of the spoon is spiked, making it look like a motley cluster of feathers. I nearly pee myself laughing. It’s late in the day, everyone’s exhausted, and everything’s funny.

Sometimes my brother sends me funny memes and I share them with the crew on the long drives

One day off, a few of us crossed the border into Montana to do laundry. Uncle Jim entered the mess tent just as I was drinking tea and said he was going to Eureka, Montana, for laundry since it’s the closest town. It seemed exciting so I came along. Mariya joked we’d be pulled over at the border for sure. Soren and Theo were in the back of the company truck while Uncle Jim and I rode in the front.

On the way two the border, there was a sign with a marijuana leaf and a line through it. This is probably one of the only border crossings where they have to tell you not to bring weed across the border.

Once at the border, the guard had everyone roll down their windows and proceeded asking everyone questions. For some reason, Soren was only nodding and shaking his head with a rather pie-eyed, bitter expression on his face. When the border guard asked, “Do you speak?” Soren nodded. The border guard followed up with, “So why aren’t you answering me verbally?” and Soren friggin shrugs!

Immediately, the guard asked us to pull over to a metal table and enter the side door. Inside, we filled out forms while they searched the truck. Up on the wall, we were greeted by a large, framed portrait of Donald Trump. The truck was pretty empty, with only our dirty laundry to root through, so it only took like 10-15 minutes.

At the laundry mat, there were multiple handwritten signs saying “ABSOLUTELY NO HIDES IN THE MACHINES!!” Of course that’s what people out here are washing.

On the way back, there is an hour-long lineup at the border, which is extremely unusual. We settle in, preparing for a heavy questioning. By the time we get to the border guard, however, it is much quicker than expected. He only asks Uncle Jim questions and Uncle Jim answers honestly. He declares his 40oz bottle of Scotch.

 “I’ll let you go this time,” says the border guard, “but normally, if you’ve been in the States less than 48 hours, you need to pay a dollar per ounce in taxes.”

“Oh I didn’t know. Oops,” apologizes Uncle Jim.

Back in camp, we are discussing the border crossing, both the way there and back.

“I told Stryker [Uncle Jim] about the liquor rule before we got to the border,” Theo says, “but he just winked at me.” Of course he did.

The Eureka laundromat also had a large pile of free bibles. Someone took one and placed it in the shitter. It's undetermined whether this was meant as reading material or toilet paper. I suspect Uncle Jim.

For one shift, I ask to be on Uncle Jim’s crew again. Rainer gives me that quizzical raised-eyebrow look.

“It’s been three years,” I reason, “and I’m a better planter now than I was in my first year, which makes sense.”

“Of course,” Cathy responds, “You think maybe he won’t ride you so hard this time?”

“He has to,” Rainer cuts in, “Gotta keep up the Stryker name.”

With that, I was placed back on my uncle’s crew for the first time since my greener year. We’ll see how that goes.

One of the gentlest, mildest crew bosses in this camp is Jim (not Uncle Jim -  a different and much younger Jim). He is incredibly calm, frequently laughs awkwardly, and it is difficult to imagine him ever being angry. For this reason, I find it sort of funny that, somehow, there is a planter in camp who absolutely (and quite dramatically) loathes Jim. This planter is Jake.

Apparently, several weeks ago, Jake had been on Jim’s crew in the mines. (Half our camp plants old coal mines which pay a lot more per tree/shrub/grass/anything they hope miiiight actually grow, but the ground is more difficult and depressing. The other half plants “normal” clear-cut blocks. There is a lot of extra paperwork involved in planting the mines.) While planting the mines can be more confusing (in fact, a general shitshow, I’ve heard), it seems Jake was planting very poor trees and not listening to Jim. Eventually, Jim had enough and requested for Jake to be taken off his crew, which also means being kicked out of the mines. Now, Jake is back planting normal clear-cut blocks with the other half of camp.

Jake did not take this well.

Dirty planters coming back from the mines

One night, I overhear him chatting with Mariya, the incredibly sweet and kind assistant cook. He is sending an excessive amount of ill-wishes in Jim’s direction.

Mariya, awkwardly trying to defuse of the situation without making Jake angrier: “Maybe sometimes people mean one thing but it sounds like something else.

Jake: “No no, it’s because I plant more trees than him. He’s jealous and trying to screw me over. I’d be jealous too if I was as ugly as him.”

I cover my mouth, trying not to laugh at the excessive pettiness..

Early one morning in the mess tent, as I’m pulling together my breakfast, Jake asking Mariya if Jim “suspects” him of something.

Mariya: “I think so yes. I think you were the first person he thought of”

Jake: “Yea he suspects me but can’t prove it. Just cuz I’m the first person he thought of doesn’t mean anything. I hear the word ‘ugly’ and he’s the first person I think of.”

“Oh,” Mariya laughs awkwardly, unsure how to defuse the situation.

“What did you do?” I ask, grinning.

“Nothing,” Jake responds, “you still need to eat your breakfast. Go have a seat, relax, enjoy your breakfast.”

“So considerate,” I smile, and make my way toward the couches to eat.

Glove tan is coming along nicely

One morning, our crew consists of Uncle Jim, Jasmine, Jake, Colin, Antoine, and myself. Uncle Jim, Jake, and I are the experienced planters, while Jasmine, Antoine, and Colin are first years. Jake is the last person to the truck in the morning, and the only empty seat is in the front with Uncle Jim and Colin. As he opened the door Colin got out, making room for Jake to slide into the middle seat.

A skirmish ensued.

After a few moments, Jake offers truce. He’ll sit in the middle seat on the way there if Colin sits in it on the way back.

Colin: “no no, I don’t sit in the middle in standard vehicles. No leg room.”

At this point, the whole vehicle erupts in jeers. This is where the argument was lost. Jake is a veteran highballer and Colin is a first year. This type of confrontation just doesn’t happen and by claiming “I don’t sit in the middle,” he is essentially saying “everyone else should sit in the middle except for me.”

Uncle Jim: “Bye, guys, we’re leaving” and starts to put his foot on the gas. As the truck begins to roll away, Jake scoffs and slides into the middle, Colin getting into the passenger seat beside him.

Before we’re out of the driveway, Jake grabs Colin’s hat right off his head. Whooosh.  It flies out the window.

Colin glares at Jake. “Don’t ever do that again. I’m serious. Never do that again.” His voice is incredibly serious, but it’s difficult to take him seriously because Colin himself just isn’t intimidating. In the back, Jasmine, Antoine, and I are holding back eruptions of laughter.

After the first bag-up on the block, Jasmine and I are back at the cache at the same time as Uncle Jim, who is trying to work out the events of the morning.

“Do you know who was sitting in the truck first before the confrontation happened?” he asks.

“I think Colin was, but he just got out and tried to make Jake sit in the middle.”

“Hmm,” comes Uncle Jim’s classically verbose response.

“Like, if you’re first in the truck and someone comes, you slide into the middle.”

“Oh is that how it works?” This is more of a statement than a question. Uncle Jim’s rule is typically “last one in the truck sits in the middle.”

Around midday, we are working the back of the block forward when a fresh piece of gossip reaches my ears.

Uncle Jim: “Colin’s getting a ride back from camp with Ryan. He refuses to ride with us.” Ryan is the camp checker and drives his own truck between the different blocks.

“He refuses?”

“Well, I think he’s scared of confrontation. He asked Ryan if he’s got space for another person on the way back. I think he’s a little worried about the confrontation.” I think Uncle Jim’s feeling kinda bad about this, I realize, he’s pitying Colin.

“Oh look,” Uncle Jim exclaims in a sarcastically happy way, “Antoine cut off all our access to the cache in one line.” He’s looking at the extra cache of boxes on the block, around which Antoine has planted a complete line of trees. It was likely an accident (Antoine is a first year planter). In the distance, Antoine and Jake are both planting on the far side of the cache.

“What a gentleman,” Uncle Jim continues, “both of them. Jake insisting Colin sit in the middle first. They're both such gentlemen.” He’s definitely taking Colin’s side, against the rest of the crew, I realize, he thinks Colin’s overconfidence is fake.  In a way, this makes sense. Uncle Jim’s always had compassion for the social outcasts; people who just don’t seem to “fit” with everyone else, and it doesn’t take a genius to realize Colin is pretty isolated from most people.

The next day, Jasmine and I share the front seat (we’re much better behaved). Antoine is not on our crew today, so Colin and Jake are alone in the back. Colin is already buckled into the middle when he hears the news that Antoine is not joining us.

“So you can slide over there,” Jake points to the seat on the other side.

“Nah, I’ll just stay here,” Colin responds. Everyone in the front seat starts to listen closely, cracking up.

“Oh, you just love it when our elbows touch?” Jake goads, clearly annoyed, “Just wanna cuddle with me?” No response.

After several minutes of silence, Jake bursts again, “Why don’t you just move over?” he demands, “Do you just love it when our knees touch?” In the front seat, Jasmine and I are trying to hold back our laughter.

“I’m fine,” Colin shrugs.

“But why?” Jake mutters angrily under his breath, “You stink, man.”

Once we pass Fernie, we stop in a parking lot to pick up one of the town planters, Edouard. Edouard is French, just like Jake, so the two of them immediately engage in French conversation and the argument over seats is forgotten since Colin, who doesn’t speak French, is cut out from the conversation occurring on both sides of him.

Jasmine, one afternoon: "aah look how nice the rain looks in the sun."
Me: "ahh so nice. And that's my wool sweater hanging off my tent to dry."

Everyone lining up their chairs to watch the lightning storm.
Nina: "Quick, someone helped me put the planters outside to get some water. Wait - not you planters! I meant the flowers."

This was going around the internet

And a treeplanter edition emerged much more accurately

Love this photo of Marley and her arnica

Pretending we do good for the planet when we're actually just contributing to a large forestry industry