May 10th – July 1st, 2013
Sapawe, Pakwash, and Wenesaga – Northwest Ontario
2013 Planting Crew (Photo Cred to Lisa: http://www.flickr.com/photos/liselking/)
Most of the the tree planters I know love tree planting, and won’t hesitate to let you know at the slightest sign of interest. Most of the tree planters I know also hate tree planting. They hate the sleet and snow that soaks through their steel toes and rain jackets in the cold weeks of early May. They hate the tendonitis and carpal tunnel that planting in too much hard soil brings about. They hate the relentless swarms of blackflies, the deer flies that come out in the heat of the day and tear out chunks of skin behind their ears, they hate the no-see-ums that crawl through mosquito netting and keep you up at night, they hate the mosquitos that bite through jeans and shirts. They hate the summer heat of late June that drains their bodies of water and energy.
But then there’s the things that draws planters back into the woods summer after summer; It’s all night parties after a week of trudging through swamp, rebuilding a forest tree by tree. It’s falling asleep on someone’s, anyone’s, shoulder on the drive back to camp. It’s the sense of accomplishment that earning a week’s wages in a single day of hard work brings. It’s the feeling of your shovel sifting through perfect soil and finding a rhythm that makes the hours pass you by. It’s earnest late night conversations about life over a campfire when everyone else has gone to bed.
After disappearing for two months into the spruce forests of Northern Ontario, it’s easy to forget that there’s a world where people have never heard of tree planting. It’ a world where every tree you plant becomes ten cents in your pocket, and your daily totals quickly become an obsession beyond money. Highballing becomes more than just planting as many trees as you can, but a whole way of approaching life. The niceties of city life are stripped away in a planting camp as clean hands and shaved faces become a hazy memory. To distill the appeal of tree planting into something concise that rings true to at least my own experience, and I’d hazard to say that most tree planters will agree, it is a job that makes you feel alive. Life takes on a potent immediacy that the city works hard to dilute. There’s no room for politeness – issues aren’t avoided or trodden over delicately, but are faced head on, relationships are born and flounder in a condensed two month season. Entertainment isn’t fed from a television or computer screen but from fires, lakes, conversations, and books, not to mention a healthy amount of pot and alcohol.
It’s now been nearly two weeks since I’ve finished planting, I’m writing in a friend’s air conditioned living room in Calgary, Alberta after driving West through Minnesota, North Dakota, and Montana. Since leaving Ontario I’ve stopped at the nomadic/anarchist Rainbow Gathering and spent a few days working with friends at a small organic farm in Wilsall, Montana. Now that I’ve paid off the debt I built in school with the trees that I planted, I’m looking for more seasonal work in order to build up my travel funds. I may head north and continue planting, or head into British Columbia’s arid Okanagan Valley for the cherry picking season that’s about to begin. Whatever I do, I’m going to keep updating this blog, with a little bit of effort, more than I have been. It is my goal to share not a blow by blow description of my travels and route, but to try and impart a sense of what I’m doing, thinking, and experiencing.
Gnarly Travels 