Consumed with thoughts I grabbed my planting bags, packed to the brim
with trees, strapped them to my body, picked up my day bag and shovel and
walked into my piece. It was my second last day of tree planting for the
season, or so I thought. It was my first season of planting and it had already
been quite the experience. At this point in the season my body was aptly tuned;
a well built and sculpted piece of machinery made to pound trees into the
ground all day long! However, mentally,
I was growing weak. The past week had been a lot for me to take. I had
been seeing someone in camp who had just left for the season, and I was feeling
very mixed about the whole situation. Parts of the experience had been less
than ideal. With an extra 45 pounds attached to my body, a mind full of
conflicting thoughts, and a tormented heart I walked down the logging road to
drop my belongings and start a day of planting.
We had been flown in for this particular cut block, which is why my
planting bags were already full of trees. Typically in a helicopter show it is
more efficient to fly in with trees as it could take hours for the helicopter
to return to the landing spot, get trees loaded into a sling, then fly back out
to the cut block where we are planting, drop the sling of trees, and pack our
bags, then start planting. As I walked over and around different slash piles
(slash is the log debris left over from the loggers) I couldn’t stop thinking
about this guy and the way things had been left. Needless to say I was
distracted. I kept walking, not 20 feet from where I was to set up my
cache (your home base for the day; where
your boxes of trees are stored as well as your personal belongings fort the
day), I fell. I literally wasn’t paying attention and tripped on some slash.
After I hit the ground all I could think was “oh my god, how clumsy can I be?”
I pushed myself up off the ground and kept walking towards my cache. Although I
immediately noticed how sore my knee was. Thinking that I must have come down
harder than I thought, I couldn’t
believe the amount of pain I was in. Suddenly it occurred to me that perhaps I
did more damage to my body than some potential bumps and bruises, which are
beyond common in tree planting. The pain got stronger and stronger. I looked
down at my leg; there was a tear in my pant leg. “Oh, shit, something cut
through my pants.” My mind starts racing “if something cut through my pant leg,
then it could have been sharp enough to cut through my skin”. Entirely
plausible considering the searing pain. I see an overturned log ahead. I decide
I will make it to the log, drop my bags and shovel and take a look at my knee.
I make it to the log, unstrap everything attached to me and place it beside me.
I sit down trying to brace myself for what I may see. Do keep in mind that I am
from the suburbs of Toronto and as much as I can be tough as nails and “hardcore”
I have never had much in the way of bodily injury. In fact I have never (knock
on wood) had a body injury other than the odd scrape from falling off my bike,
or common bruising from playing fighting with my older brothers as a child. I
take a deep breath, reach down, and very carefully pull up my pant leg.
My right knee had been pierced by a piece of slash. There was a 2 inch
gash cut in the shape of a triangle just under my knee cap. It did not look
like a small scratch or cut, it was deep and terrifying! I could feel the panic
moving up in me about to explode, but I immediately stopped it. It was just me,
alone at this cut block, and I had to deal with it. I could succumb to fear or
helplessness, but I had to deal with the situation as best I could with a
strong, able, and calm mind state. I opened up my day bag and looked around for
something. I found my SOA (School of the Americas) bandana , wrapped it around
the gash and tied it tight. This, for the mean time, would stave off the
bleeding, as well as bide me some time until I could figure something else out,
or find someone who could help.
For most people it would have been common sense to go and seek help from
a neighbouring planter, or even my foreman. Nope, not to me. I was determined
to be a trooper, to suck it up, and deal with it.
It is important to note that in this, my first season of tree planting,
I had a huge complex about being a woman planter. There had been a handful of
women planters throughout the season. For the most part the rookie women
planters had either given up, gone into the kitchen to cook, or just set an
imaginary ceiling which didn’t allow them to push harder, further, and put in
good numbers. ‘Numbers’ comparable to the other male planters. Along with this
pressure there had been a great deal of sexism. There were quite a few “gents”
who consistently spouted off offensive and undermining comments towards women.
Very much trying to keep us in “our place”, or so I felt. All of these factors
combined I was not about to give any of these guys the benefit of the doubt and
behave like a helpless woman who a) couldn’t take care of herself b) couldn’t
deal with a little bit of pain and c) couldn’t plant trees like the rest of
them!
So I sucked it up! I put my planting bags back on, I picked up my shovel
and I walked into my piece ready to plant these trees!
So I planted. One tree, two trees, three trees, my knee still throbbing.
I ignored the pain. Four trees, five trees, a whole bundle gone and put into
the ground. I flagged my line as I kept on planting. I looked around, but no
one was around. I kep on planting. Two bundles in, still flagging my line, I
kept on planting. Every minute seeming like an eternity, I kept on planting. No
one was going to say that I was a suck, a baby, a weak woman. I kept on
planting.
A short while later, I had planted about four bundles, I looked up and
saw my foreman about 50 feet away. I shouted “Hey, do we have a first aid kit
on the block?” He responded “what did you do?” I replied “oh, nothing I just
fell down and cut my knee, nothing too serious”. He walked over to me. “Let me
see what you did”. I stop planting, put my shovel aside, reached down, and ever
so carefully removed the bandana I had around the wound, now quite saturated
with blood.
My foreman takes one look at my wounded knee and exclaims “holy fuck
what the hell did you do?” It was bad. Worse than I had thought or convinced
myself. I stumble out some explanation of the incident. I leave my cut knee
undressed as we walk back to my cache.
I don’t really remember the particular order than the rest of the events
happened. It was luck that the
helicopter was still at our block, it hadn’t flown off yet. There was a first
aid kit at the heli landing site. My foreman cracked it open and poured alcohol
all over my knee. At this point the recognition that I needed immediate medical
attention was more than apparent and keeping me at the cut block was a very
poor decision. The helicopter pilot, beyond agreeable and accommodating, got to
work readying the chopper to take off. In the mean time I had spoken with a
neighbouring planter, who now had shown up. I gave him the remainder of my
trees, and the box tag for it.
My foreman grabbed my day bag and put me into the helicopter. Before I
knew it we were off, flying back to the original landing spot. Freaked out, but
trying to remain calm, we flew. The landing spot wasn’t too far away, although
any distance at this point seemed continents away.
We landed and found our supervisor lounging in the front seat of one of
the trucks. He saw me in the passenger seat as we landed, and his face moved to
confusion. He walked over to the helicopter. The pilot briefly explained my
situation and then made clear the urgency for me to get to a hospital. “the
hospital” I thought. “Damn, that is not hard core at all! I am a wuss. I am a
silly girl planter who cannot keep up with the rest of the boys! Fuck! I
failed! I failed all women. I can’t do it, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get
through one season of planting and prove how worthy, strong, and capable I am
as a woman planter. I failed!” While my supervisor and the pilot chatted I
remained quiet and stuck in negative thoughts of defeatism. We flew away after
a brief conversation. The plan, now, was to fly back to camp, grab my health card,
fly into Grande Prairie, and head to the hospital.
We arrived at a
deserted camp, everyone, except me, was out on the block, planting their hearts
out. Suszi, our camp bookkeeper, came over to the chopper wondering what was
going on. The pilot explained as I made a dash for my tent to grab my health
card. I was clever in that I also grabbed my journal, a book, and my address
book. Who knew how long I would have to wait around at the hospital to see a
doctor??? I ran back to the chopper, and off we went to Grande Prairie.
At this point, fear had subsided as I was being looked after. I was no longer alone on the block, planting
by myself, with a gaping hole in my knee. I was now being flown to a hospital,
in a helicopter, with my foreman, supervisor, and camp bookkeeper, concerned,
and potentially worrying about me and my knee. Positive attention can be a
grand thingJ
I must admit I would do
it all over again just for the helicopter ride into Grande Prairie. Typically
planters do not get a lot of time in helicopters. The helicopter rides are a
few minutes, maybe 10 to 15 at most. Helicopters are incredibly expensive to
operate, using a drum of gas every 30 minutes. Not to mention the operating
time for the machine, and the cost of the pilot. Generally speaking a planting
camp will drive as close as possible to the cut block and from there fly to the
designated location. Thus minimizing fly time. The ride into Grande Prairie was
somewhere between 30 to 45 minutes and the ride was allotted solely for me!!!
How fabulous! I remember it being the most beautiful ride I had ever taken. For
starters I was able to sit in the front seat with a large windshield to view
all of God’s green lands. Furthermore, we were no longer only travelling over
cut blocks but just Alberta’s vast forest landscape. Green as far as the eye
can see. Rivers, brooks, streams, I seem to remember flying over a waterfall.
It was epic and it was my experience. I couldn’t have been more content, even
with a cut open knee causing all sorts of discomfort and pain. It was
marvellous!
My pilot was a true gem
as well. Obviously concerned for my welfare and trying to take my mind off of
the situation at hand he chatted to me the whole way into Grande prairie. He
was so reassuring and kept me calm.
We arrived at a
helicopter airport in Grande Prairie. From there he was going to drive me into
the city hospital. I was dropped at the hospital, I checked in and was told to
take a seat in the waiting room. Judging by the volume of people I figured it
was going to be awhile. I hobbled through the hospital to find a place where I
could buy a calling card. Despite my
indisposition I had some wits about me. I would take the time to call home and
chat with some of my friends. I called my best friend and told her I was at the
hospital, I had cut open my knee and needed medical attention. I soon became a
relic of entertainment in the hospital waiting room as most people could hear
my animated phone conversation to my girlfriends, and I wasn’t about to dull
down my story, I do have a bit of a flare for theatrics ;) Hours passed. I
called all three of my closest girlfriends as well as my parents. Time passed
slowly by.
Eight hours later my name was called
and I was taken into a hospital room. A nurse saw me at first; assessed my
situation and cleaned up my wound. She left and I waited and waited and waited
some more. Eventually a very nice doctor came in and was ready to stitch me up.
After waiting to see a doctor for most of the day, all of my fears and worries
came back in an instant and adrenaline was pumping through body, I had never
gotten stitches before and didn’t like the thought of dealing with even more
pain in the affected area. The doctor stitched me up no problem and I was good
to go. Just like that I was ready to go back to our planting bush camp and face
persecution for being, yet another girl, who couldn’t hack it.
A couple of hors later I was picked
up by my foreman and we drove back to camp. I had decided that tonight would be
a good night to get drunk. The cumulative events of the past week had made me
weak and I was ready to get sloshed and drink it all away. A great plan!
When we got back to camp it was very
late and most everyone had retired for the evening. I was invited into the “Office
Tent” with my foreman, supervisor, Suzsi, and a couple other people. As
conversation evolved people wanted to hear the story, and what had happened to
my knee. My foreman piped in letting everyone know that I had gone out and
planted 4 bundles of trees despite my injury! The look of shock and amazement
from their faces was a surprise to me. I had felt so defeated, but everyone was
responding to me with admiration. My supervisor commented by saying “we were
going to give Andrew (another male rookie planter) the rookie of the year
prize, but I think you might have won it Stephanie”. Me, rookie of the
year?!?!?!? Was he crazy? I fell apart out there. I hurt myself, I had to stop
planting and seek medical attention. I didn’t deserve recognition or
admiration. I should be shamed and shunned and banished from planting camp for
not being a role model for women everywhere! It was then that I finally
succumbed to the fact that I was indeed hardcore! Woot woot! I am hardcore! I
am hardcore. I pushed through a difficult circumstance, sucked it up, and
showed what I was made of! I did it! It felt absolutely amazing and it was all
mine to relish in. My greatest accomplishment of the season. Congratulations
Stephanie you are officially a seasoned tree planter. Way to go!
J
