The Crotch
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I leave on the morning of the 15th for northern Alberta. I switch camps a few times, bouncing between there (a kinda swampy area) and a camp in the mountains not too far from the US border. I'll be done... some time in August. Assuming I don't get hurt or something.
"Fun, in a way" is a pretty accurate description. It's utterly ing wretched a lot of the time with the heat and the cold and the rain and the hail and the insects Jesus -balls the insects the mosquitoes the horse flies the deer flies the black flies the wasps holy shit the wasps that nest underground I stuck my hand in a wasp nest while planting a tree once God I hate wasps and the mud, mud everywhere, and spending months in isolation with the same ~50 people and by the end you want to bash the nearest French-Canadian right in his stupid god damn face with your shovel and the weight, me sideways, the weight of those stupid god damn trees dragging you down into the mud and the slash, the chest-high ing slash monsters that slow you down, costing you a cent here, a cent there, reaching for your shins as you go around and catching your toes when you step over. The job also has a very high injury rate, and I feel it in my knees for months after.
But it pays well if you're good at it, and I'm... I'm alright, I guess. I'm happy if I make three hundred dollars a day, though I don't on my bad shifts, and I know there's plenty of room to go up from there, too. The company I works for prices its land fairly and the foremen know their shit and their head cook is great. Pretty respectable nightlife and plenty of pretty - albeit hairy - lady-planters, lots of poker, Catan, beersbee... one guy got a croquet set for his birthday a couple years ago which was pretty much the most amazing thing ever. I don't think people appreciated having a bunch of croquet wickets in front of the kitchen tent, but 'em, those were good games.
"Fun, in a way" is a pretty accurate description. It's utterly ing wretched a lot of the time with the heat and the cold and the rain and the hail and the insects Jesus -balls the insects the mosquitoes the horse flies the deer flies the black flies the wasps holy shit the wasps that nest underground I stuck my hand in a wasp nest while planting a tree once God I hate wasps and the mud, mud everywhere, and spending months in isolation with the same ~50 people and by the end you want to bash the nearest French-Canadian right in his stupid god damn face with your shovel and the weight, me sideways, the weight of those stupid god damn trees dragging you down into the mud and the slash, the chest-high ing slash monsters that slow you down, costing you a cent here, a cent there, reaching for your shins as you go around and catching your toes when you step over. The job also has a very high injury rate, and I feel it in my knees for months after.
But it pays well if you're good at it, and I'm... I'm alright, I guess. I'm happy if I make three hundred dollars a day, though I don't on my bad shifts, and I know there's plenty of room to go up from there, too. The company I works for prices its land fairly and the foremen know their shit and their head cook is great. Pretty respectable nightlife and plenty of pretty - albeit hairy - lady-planters, lots of poker, Catan, beersbee... one guy got a croquet set for his birthday a couple years ago which was pretty much the most amazing thing ever. I don't think people appreciated having a bunch of croquet wickets in front of the kitchen tent, but 'em, those were good games.