Some Basic Rules To Travelling

• Do not talk to drunk men on the street when you are alone
• Do not tell them your are alone, have no place to stay, have no phone, and that no one knows where you are
• Do not accept invites to drunk men's hotel rooms
• Do not follow them into the bar they are in and accept drinks
• Do not get into a cab with strange men, and not know where you are going
• Do not talk to near naked homeless men who have a better tan and body than you 
• Do not shower in strangers hotel rooms, especially when all of the above applies
• Do not proceed to fall asleep feeling completely at home and safe in a room full of strange men, who are drunk.

If, however, you may have an amazingly great night, and make new friends with some hilarious and good hearted guys.

(Just so you know Myles, I re-illustrated "The TRUTH." And Andre, despite being in the same situation as the night I met you guys, I didn't meet anyone as great)

I don't even know how to describe the journey I've been on for the last 6 days, but I really can't understand how its been happening.

In two weeks I will write it all down. Until then I need to digest all that has happened.

Falling Trees

This week started in a forest. The day after our block tried to kill us.

Blocks occasionally have high standing trees on them that do not have the protection of a surrounding forest. And because of the area that we were working on was pretty mountainous the wind was murderous, causing trees to crack and start falling as we planted.

One girl on my crew was missed by a few meters and scavenged a piece of the tree that could have crushed her. Later, after it was decided it was too dangerous to work on our block another person on my crew had a close call. This time with the heavy metal doors of the box truck slamming shut, almost closing on him and crushing body. The sound of the crashing bang and Greg shouted a warning as Maddy jumped out of the way was terrifying.

We all pulled out cigarettes and laughed after that, turning up the music on the truck and taking photos, Maddy looking pale and shaken.

The Block

Many people don't really understand where exactly we plant trees, including a fair amount of unfortunate souls who get hired for the job and find there way on a crew.

The first misconception is that we plant on a grassy field that is flat. No. No it's not like that at all. Instead, usually, there is a fair amount of debris, logs, trees, hills (and cliffs) and multiple places where you can't plant, and a few places you can. The places where you can, once you find them, need to be spaced properly from another and you start by following the tree-line.

Which is why last Monday was just fucky; Our camp was comically planting on a grassy field. Well, everyone but my crew. We were in a mother-fucking forest. Our tree-line was where the trees ended. We had to make our way through dense foliage attempting to plant trees where there were already trees. This wouldn't be so difficult if our trees, bags, and dibbles would float their way behind us instead of getting snagged on literally everything, causing constant spectacular failure at mere walking.

And we still have to have the right tree density. Hopefully, it is not hard to understand that it is hard to find our little 6 inch tall trees among fully grown ones. And ferns. And many other plants that are the exact same color. Your flagging had to be impeccable, just so that the person trailing a few meters behind you didn't miss your line of trees.

And the worst part, is after we carried our heavy bags through the woods we would reach the end of the forest and look out to the beautiful field where dozens of our friends were planting. None of them tripping or looking out for dangerously cracking trees. And you'd have to turn around, despite the overwhelming urge to to simply plant one tree, just one tree, where it was nice. But you couldn't.

Camping

Five days ago I lived in a tent, which I had stayed in for three weeks. While working. It was damp and cold and muddy, and I barely got to shower during that entire time.  It was both a trying and spectacular experience and so much has happened since I last posted that my thoughts are in a constant cluster-fuck. I'm only going to mention some of the important events though and I can post about the others later.

Living in my tent was nothing like camping. For one thing, it was not optional and there was no retreat from bad weather. When we got torrential downpours everything got drenched and it never dried out. We would go to our blocks, and then proceed to spend the next 10 hours slipping and sliding on logs, smothered in dirt and mud, boots filled with water, and freezing our very little butts off only to come home to be wet for the rest of the night. Collectively we would join around fires attempting to dry out our boots, socks, and feet, smoking and drinking beer to help sleep reach us. When we entered our rarely dry tents we would bring in the constant moisture that carved its way into our bones. Every day was a repetition of this.

But, despite all the wet, the not showering, the being cramped into a small tent with your gear, it was a wonderful experience. I bonded with more people during those weeks than I did for the month and a half I did in res., simply because there are no doors as barriers.  During our time there we had wicked evening bonfire parties, and we ate constantly; stuffing our faces with trail mix, deep fried potatoes, and whatever else that can be consumed. We were secure in knowing that not showering despite smelling worse than a putrid garbage pit was not anomalous. Bush camp was an experience that I can sum up as being both amazing and horrid, and I'm fairly sure I would do it again. I may, however, be a sadist.

Today, while planting, I stabbed myself with a stick. I now have a small circular hole in my side in addition to the bruises and scratches. And a sunburn.

Tree Planting, the First Shift (Prince George)

Holy mother of Zeus, tree planting is ridiculously hard. And though I imagined it would be back breaking work I willingly admit that knowing that it will be hard and going through the motions of tree planting are vastly different. One involves the frustration and pain of Mother Nature trying to fuck you over with every twig, rock, root and red-rot she can cram into your dibble. But I'm determined to keep on trying my best, and so far, despite being probably my crew's low-baller, I am slowly gaining surety in my work and speed.

Here is description of what my day is like: I get up at 4:15 am and make breakfast (high in complex carbs for energy) gulp down a cup of instant coffee, pack a lunch and lots of water,  change into my dirt and mud-streaked gear and then head out to the trucks for 5:30 am. Once everyone on my crew has gathered we load up the trucks with trees, numerous boxes of spruce and pine and then drive 45 minutes on winding bumpy roads to our block. The ride is always filled with laughter and good music, pumping up for the upcoming day.

Now, I want to make a point of explaining what a "block" is. Imagine hell, where every flickering flame is instead a sharp thorny sticks. Sometimes there are giants piles of logs and bush that you need to scramble over. Technically, a "block" is an area that's been clear-cut; it's land stripped of all it's surviving healthy trees, and what's left behind are stumps, debris, rocks.  I'm 100% sure that the people who created the term purposely did it just to fuck with any naive tree planters to be. And I work on one four days on, one day off. For at least 10 hours.

My body, due to my attempts at trying to plant as many hours as possible my body is littered with bruises and scratches. My hards are have blisters and sores. For the first three days I wrapped them in ducts tape, hearing that many planters preferred it. The result was my fingers and knuckles being shredded. They're still healing.

Additionally, if you muck up, which is ridiculously easy because there has to proper spacing between trees no matter the shape of the block and the trees need to be planted properly, you have to replant. Which means you plant trees for free. For hours. the EXACT same ones you already did.

So, basically, I'm tired sore, and covered in dirt and bruises ALL the times, and absolutely loving it. I'm not really making any money though.