August 7th, 2013 Good Morning Bob Quinn! It’s amazing what a little sleep can do for a fella. I slept so well I actually slept so well, I went in for breakfast before having my cigarette and tea. (I know, impressive isn’t it?) I feel good coming right out of the gate this morning, however there is still some lingering cobwebs in the back of my mind. Perhaps they are just leftovers of the rabbit hole, as after four days with very little sleep I fear I may have ventured a little far down it. Letting my mind slip past the limitations society sets for us, and questioning a lot of the meaning and purpose in life. I think it’s a necessary place to visit. However, I don’t think it’s anyplace to set up the shop of your mind. I think it’s interesting that we have such a powerful tool as the human brain, and most people choose to watch T.V., play video games, text, or immerse themselves in the many useless sites on the internet. It seems like such a waste to me. We don’t even know what it’s capable of doing, and we don’t even try to figure it out. It seems to me that most people take for granted almost everything they have, health, happiness, family, a brain! Lol. We just expect. Well what if one day YOUR brain gets tired? What if it just decides that you’re not really using it so why should it help you out? I guess what I’m asking is what have you done for your brain lately? Live a little, let it wander, it could probably use a little fresh air, different perspective, and a brisk walk! Anyways, that’s the way it looks to me from Wonderland. On with the day! Darren and I are both smokers, so were both up early, grab our breakfast, and get in our free thinking time and tea. It’s nice to start a day with someone who’s on the same page as you. Prior Preparation and Planning Prevents a Piss Poor Performance. ( That’s what my old Chef taught me anyhow). We leave camp at 7:00am, and head south to the Eskay Creek road. Today we’re set out for Block 60, there’s only one tiny catch. We have no helicopter and we have to cross a tiny creek. Which, as it turns out later on, is more like a TINY creek. We turn on to the eskay creek road, blaring some Rage Against the Machine-Guerilla Radio, and I feel like a goddamn rebel. Cruisin down a back ass logging road with tunes cranked at 7:05am, sun just peaking over the mountains, crisp, cool, dewey morning. Mother F&%$er it’s good to be alive! Excercise, sleep, and good food. We really don’t need much more in this world in order to enjoy life. Aside from a good conversation. Anyways the hike to the creek is fairly uneventful until we reach the creek itself. Devil’s Creek to be more specific, and it’s holding true to it’s name. To me it looks like Kitselas canyon back home. (this may be a bit of an exaggeration) but not much! What is true is that I have crossed alot of creeks and streams and rivers in a lot of sketchy place, in my waders. This is something I would’ve looked at, and would not have even considered trying to cross. Not even getting on the edge of and seeing how deep it is. So as we are not going to be able to wade across it, I am informed by Darren that there is a spruce tree another 100 or so meters upstream where we can cross. We reach the old, broke down spruce, and I’m fairly confident it should be pretty easy. One more catch though, Darrens dog Dante. He’s a little skittish when he’s frolicking through an open field, and now that were thick in the woods standing by a class four intermediate white water rapid stream, lets just say Dante looks a little less than composed. I tell Darren that I will go first, and break all the upright branches off the spruce, and then he can carry Dante across. He agrees and I begin what is to be, one of my shakiest treks across any log that I have ever traversed. I immediately get the feeling that I”ve made the wrong decision when I place my hands on the bottom of the spruce to pull myself up, and all the old branches start shivering like dogs shitting razorblades. However, the good Lord hates a coward, and I push on, shakily, but steadily. I’m half way across the log which is now vibrating like a bent drive shaft. When Darren yells at me, telling me to come back. He now wants to wait until tomorrow and we will leave Dante at camp. And I swear to god, when he said that, that bloody dog turned to me and smiled. I turn the rest of my body, to match the direction of my head and head back to the bank. We start heading back down stream, back toward the truck, 1.5 kms away. When we are about half way back we walk through, a very damp area with lots of tall, wet grass. Immediately I am cooled, it feels wonderful, the grass blades brushing across my face. I walk the rest of the way out of the tiny glen with my eyes closed, to truly enjoy the moment. However when I come out of the field I can still feel stuff on my face..... crawling. I reach up to wipe off the insects and before my hand reaches my face. My lip, chin and forehead start erupting in pain, I begin slapping myself silly, and swearing at the top of my lungs. I manage to grab one of the culprits and get a look at him, Mud Wasp. My face is alive with pain. My lip feels like it’s sticking out past my nose, I feel as though someone hit me in the forehead with a bat, and I’m not even sure as to the whereabouts of my chin is. I cannot feel it anymore, all I can feel is the slightest of tingling sensations. The pain is horrendous and I think to myself that I would endure 20 km’s of devils club, in order to never experience that again. I grab onto a very large and very old hemlock, take a few deep breaths and come back down to earth. We make it back to the truck without anymore incident, and work the rest of the day, back at the Galore Creek Blocks. Finishing off the last of the soil samples. We arrive back at 5, and pack all our gear away. Darren disappears for a few minutes, and comes back and informs me that supper is already ready. Because of this long stretch of hot weather, the province has shut down all machinery, and logging in the area from 1:00 pm to 8:00 pm. To avoid starting any forest fires. So the rest of the logging crews are going to be working from midnight to 1:00pm. I finish my supper and head back to the house, satiated, and tired. I play a few somber songs on the guitar to relax, and get ready for bed.
Posted on: Thu, 08 Aug 2013 03:58:51 +0000
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