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May 28, 2006

Farts Like Gold: 30 - Brendan drops Lucy off at camp

A sudden squall of rain pelted against the roof of the truck. It drowned out the music from the dining tent for a few seconds. He tried to remember if he'd ever had worse weather on any job. He didn't think so. He checked the mirror. The windows were fogging up but he thought he could make out a speck of light coming towards him.

Brendan drove the quad as close as he could get to the dryshack. He stood up on the pegs to allow Lucy to get off. His hands and face were numb. Lucy stood up behind him and leaned against him on the quad. She leaned her elbows against his back and held up her hands still encased in the bright orange oversize gloves. Brendan looked over his shoulder.

"Thanks for the gloves," she said. She moved her arms out of the way, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. She moved her head back, but stayed leaning against him. Brendan looked at her. As well as the gloves, he had given her his helmet. It was mostly white and much too big for her. There was a streak of mud on her cheek and her lips were slightly blue from the cold. All the colour in her face had been drawn into her eyes.

"It's raining," he said. Lucy nodded.

He twisted sideways on the quad so his left leg was resting on the gas tank and he could look at her without twisting his neck. Lucy grabbed his arm for balance. "You're welcome," he said. He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips.

She smiled. Then she swung her leg over, and stepped off the quad. She walked into the dryshack still wearing the helmet and gloves.

Brendan sat down on the quad and squinted up into the rain. "I am a fucking idiot," he said.

Then he got off the quad and walked into the dining tent.

Joe waited until he was inside then he opened the door of the truck and followed.

Inside the dining tent, Brendan opened his office box and took out a bottle of single malt scotch whiskey. He poured some into a plastic mug and walked over to the airtight stove with the bottle and the mug. One of the planters made room for him on the bench nearest the stove.

"Thanks."

Joe came up to him. Someone scooted over on the next bench and Joe sat down. He held out an empty mug.

"Any chance I can get some of that?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Hey, it's the good stuff!"

"Nothing but the best," said Brendan. "I may be underdressed, but at least I've got high class booze."

"That you do."

"Just need to warm up a bit. Then I'll put something dry on."

"No worries."

Jon Spenser Blues Explosion was playing on the ghetto blaster. A group of five planters including Matt and Kathy danced in front of the lunch table.

>> Farts Like Gold: 31

Posted by YandaMan at 11:55 PM

May 21, 2006

Farts Like Gold: 29 - Gown Plant

Cassandra and April had changed for dinner. It was a tradition on Brendan and Joe's crew to have a "gown plant" one day every season. On Gown Plant day, everyone had to wear dresses while working. Most people hit the charity shops at the start of the season and bought the most flamboyant outfit they could find. Cassandra was wearing a canola yellow prom dress with a white petticoat. She had a garland of plastic white and red roses in her hair. April wore a turquoise sheath dress and a Greek fisherman's cap. Both wore thick woollen tights and rubber boots as a consolation to the weather.

The dining tent had a whiteboard that hung above the lunch table. It displayed how many days were left in the contract, how many trees had been planted to date, the day's menu, and anything else the foremen or cooks needed to pass on to the planters. Cassandra had erased all the messages and had written in large letters, "Please note that Fancy Dress is required for tonight's Dinner." She had decorated it with drawings of hearts and flowers and martini glasses.

There were about 40 planters in total in the camp. About half of these were in the dining tent and most of these had got the gown-plant spirit. Matt wore nothing but an orange boob-tube, a kilt, and rubber boots. Paul hadn't brought anything for gown plant day. He had improvised by making himself a skirt out of streamers of blue and red flagging tape. He sat on a kitchen box near the lunch table. Kathy knelt on the box beside him. She applied lipstick carefully to Paul's lips. She wore the same ladybug miniskirt she always wore planting but had spruced herself up by wearing Amber's best bra outside of a tight flesh-coloured tee shirt. The effect was striking, at least from a distance.

The need to concentrate on fashion meant that that there was an abnormally long line for the shower and a much shorter line than normal for dinner. April had put a number of cartons of juice out on the lunch table for mixer. Matt stood next to Paul and Kathy. He ate lasagne from a plastic plate and had a battered flask of rye whiskey wedged in his boob-tube.

"Can I have some of that?" asked Paul.

"Sure, what's your pleasure?" said Matt. He picked up one of the cartons. "Rye and orange juice? Rye and apple juice? Rye and cranberry?"

"I'll have a rye and apple," said Paul. "Make it a double."

"Coming right up," said Matt. He put his plate down, and pulled the flask out of his top. He poured a glug of rye into a mug and filled it up with apple juice. "Wise choice, but don't ignore the cranberry juice. Rye and cranberry juice is nowhere near as terrible as you might imagine."

Kathy put the top back on her lipstick and stuck it back in the Duke's of Hazzard lunch box she used for her toiletries. "Personally," said Kathy. "I think I'll stick with beer."

Both Matt and Paul shook their heads. "Beer is just not efficient for camp life," said Paul.

"It's too bulky," said Matt.

"Exactly," said Paul. "It's only about 5% alcohol. You want hard liquor. Rye or Vodka or Rum. Something that you can mix with anything."

"This rule," said Matt, "is vital if you're ever on a helicopter job. You're only allowed so much luggage by weight in this company. You have to make it count."

"All I know is that I'd rather have a beer than a rye and cranberry juice," said Kathy.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," said Matt. "I promise - elixir of the Gods." To prove the point he poured himself a rye and cranberry juice and took a drink. "Perfection," he said. He stuffed the flask back in the boob-tube.

"Isn't that cold?" asked Kathy.

"Absolutely fucking freezing," said Matt. "But you of all people should know you've got to suffer to look beautiful."

"I don't suffer," she said. "I just am beautiful."

"That you are," he said. "That bra looks great. If I had breasts like yours I wouldn't need to stuff my top with cold metal things."

Joe drove up to the camp. He could hear the music from the dining tent over the noise of the engine. Alistair and Cameron finished the rest of their beer in the truck. When he was done, Alistair reached over and crushed his empty beer can around the steering wheel.

"For luck," he said. He and Cameron got out of the truck and walked to the dryshack.

Joe stayed in the truck and peeled the beer can off the steering wheel. He rolled the window down and tossed it behind him into the bed of the truck. He rolled the window up again. He checked the mirror. No sign of Brendan and Lucy yet. He crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat. There was no point in getting out of the truck until he knew they'd got back to camp safely.

>> Farts Like Gold: 30

Posted by YandaMan at 11:58 PM

May 14, 2006

Farts Like Gold: 28

Cassie was just putting the lasagne in the oven when Joe climbed the steps into the cookbus. April was chopping some tomatoes for the salad.

"Afternoon, my lovelies," he said.

"You're filthy," said Cassie. "Don't touch anything."

"Sorry," he said. He stuffed his hands under his armpits inside his raincoat, and took a step backwards. "I've got good news and bad news."

"Is the good news that it's going to stop raining?" asked April.

"No. Kind of the opposite," he said. "The good news is that because of the rain and Brendan's broken quad we're going to have a day off tomorrow." April put down her knife and looked at Cassie. Cassie put down the lasagne she had in her hands. "The bad news," said Joe, "is that it's going to be a day off in camp."

"You're shitting me," said Cassie. "What the hell is everyone going to do sitting around camp in the rain?"

Joe shrugged. "Brendan doesn't trust the bus on these roads with the weather the way it's been."

Cassie picked up the lasagne again and put it in one of the ovens. It only went part way in. She held it with one hand while she grabbed a tea towel and jiggled the other lasagne out of the way.

"Hot breakfast or cold breakfast?" asked April.

"Whatever you want," said Joe.

"Cold breakfast," said Cassie. "Let everyone sleep in."

"Including us," added April.

"They can make what they want when they get up," said Cassie. "We'll put together a big lunch table." She closed the oven. "What are you planning to do now, Joe?" she asked.

"Well, Brendan has my quad. I was thinking of walking back into my block and checking some trees," he said.

Cassie shook her head. "Those planters are not going to be happy about spending tomorrow in camp and not making any money. I guarantee you that, right now, they would be happy to risk their lives for a warm bed and a shower. I think you should make sure this camp is as inviting as you possibly can before they get here. If we can give them a good party tonight, they may not lynch us tomorrow. Make sure the stoves in the dining tent and dryshack are stoked and there's plenty of wood. Clean up the dryshack as much as you can. Everyone is going to want a shower tonight."

Joe nodded. "You're right. I'll get on it."

April went past Cassie to the front of the bus. She pulled a sixpack of beer out of cupboard. She handed one to Cassie and tossed one to Joe. "And hey! Let's not forget it's a party night!" she said. She put three of the cans on the counter and opened the remaining can.

Joe and Cassie opened their beers. The three of them raised their beer cans. "Party night!" they said. Joe downed half of his beer in one go. Cassie and April each took a swig and continued working. Amber tossed the tomatoes she'd been chopping into the salad. Cassie stirred one of the enormous pots of soup on the stove.

Joe walked down into the dining tent. He went over to the wood burning stove. He put his beer down on a nearby table and checked the fire. It was going strong. He picked up the beer and finished it on his way to the dryshack.

Brendan sat on Joe's quad at the furthest tree cache in the cutblock. Lucy, Alistair, and Cameron were walking back out from the back of their land. They were easy to spot in their bright orange and yellow rain gear. Lucy wore orange. The other two wore yellow. He watched as Cameron (or maybe it was Alistair) slipped and fell. He got up. With this kind of weather and this kind of ground, falling was the normal state of being for a treeplanter. Brendan keyed the mike on his radio, "Joe, Brendan here," he said.

"Go ahead."

"I'm just waiting for my last planters to walk out. Are you anywhere nearby? Any chance you could pick a couple of us up?"

"I'm in camp. Cassie thought I should spruce things up a bit," said Joe.

"Is everybody back from your block?" asked Brendan.

"I'm still waiting for Marko and Phil, but Les tells me they're on their way. So far no one seems too upset about taking tomorrow off."

"Any chance you could get somebody else to do the party preparations while you come get us?" said Brendan.

There was a pause. Brendan watched as either Cameron or Alistair fell again.

Joe's voice came over the radio. "Sure, no problem. Be there in fifteen minutes."

Brendan put his radio back in his inside vest pocket and buttoned up his raincoat. He waited as the three planters arrived at the cache. They stuck their shovels in the ground near their last line of trees. Then they put their planting bags under the tarp that had been set up for the tree-boxes and grabbed their backpacks.

"Day off tomorrow," said Brendan. "One of the quads is broken."

Alistair undid the bungie straps on the front of the quad. "Fantastic," he said. "Are we going into town?" Cameron piled the three daypacks on the front luggage rack. He held them in place while Alistair strapped them down.

"'Fraid not," said Brendan.

"Well, shit on a stick," said Alistair. "Not much of a day off." He scraped some of the mud off his boot on one of the front quad tires.

"Sorry," said Brendan. "Anybody want a ride out to the road?"

The three planters looked at each other. "Ladies first," said Cameron.

"No thanks," said Lucy. "I'll walk with Alistair."

"Okay, then," said Cameron. Brendan stood up. Cameron climbed onto the seat behind him. He sat far back on the seat and leaned back, supporting himself with his hands on the back rack of the quad.

"Start walking," said Brendan. "I'll be back."

Alistair and Lucy were almost halfway there when Brendan got back from the road. Lucy let Alistair get the next ride. When Brendan got to the road with Alistair, Joe was there with the truck.

"I can only really take two of you," he said.

"Well, you might as well take these guys," said Brendan. "I'll take Lucy back on the quad."

Alistair and Cameron climbed into the truck. There were four cans of beer on the dashboard. "Whoo-hoo!" said Alistair. "Party on, Garth!" He opened one of the cans of beer."

"Party on, Wayne!" said Cameron.

"You want?" asked Joe.

"No thanks," said Brendan. "There's no cup holder on this damn thing." He gestured down at the quad.

"See you at camp," said Joe. He drove off. Brendan turned the quad around just as Lucy arrived at the road.

"Looks like it's just you and me, babe," he said. Lucy had the hood of her raincoat up. Wet scraggly hair trailed out from underneath it on either side of her face.

"No offence," she said, "but I would rather have been in the truck."

"Here," said Brendan. He took off his gloves. They were bright orange, insulated, and rubberised. "Take these."

Lucy put the gloves on. She laughed. "I look like some kind of mutant cartoon character."

"Anything for a lady," said Brendan. He stood up and Lucy climbed onto the quad behind him. He sat down again and Lucy leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his chest. Brendan stiffened slightly.

"For warmth," she said.

Brendan let himself relax into her. "Warmth is good," he said. He popped the quad into gear, pushed his thumb against the throttle, and headed towards camp.

>> Farts Like Gold: 29

Posted by YandaMan at 11:43 PM

May 8, 2006

The Crazy Landlord and the Culletons

(More pics of the Culletons in London)

We have some friends from Canada visiting. They're in their 50s and I don't think they've left North America before so we thought it would be entertaining to have my crazy landlord pick them up from the train station in his fiendishly erratic Nissan Sunny.

They had just endured a 10 hour flight. Crazy Landlord, on the other hand, had slept 13 hours the night before and was irrepressible. He took them on a random tour of the East End shouting incoherently about minutiae related to the neighbourhoods we passed.

By the time we got them back to the house, our guests were demanding strong whiskey and a small dark room to lie down in.

****************************************************

Update (Sat, 13 May)

The Culletons are now in Istanbul. They had an early flight and had to catch a taxi at 5:00am yesterday morning to get to the airport. I got up at quarter to five to wish them well and was greeted by scenes of panic and flurry when I knocked on their door.

Mrs. C thrust a bottle of Matrix Thermal-Active Setting Spray in my hands. "Here!" she said. "Take this! It doesn't fit and I don't really need it. Well, actually, you and Vicki probably don't need it either, but take it anyway."

I thanked her for the lovely gift but I have to admit I wasn't sure if what she said was meant to be a compliment or a comment on my impressive bedhead.

They did make the taxi and the flight and didn't leave too many unplanned items behind. I understand they are now safely in Turkey and no doubt handing our hair products to all and sundry.

Posted by YandaMan at 10:42 PM

May 7, 2006

Farts Like Gold: 27

After Joe met Brendan at camp they drove back to where Brendan had left the dead quad. Brendan wrapped a chain around the hitch on Joe's quad and then hooked the front frame of Brendan's quad. Brendan gave the quad a push as Joe started towing. Brendan rode with his left foot on the peg and his right knee on the seat. Whenever Joe's quad began to slip too much, Brendan jumped off and pushed until Joe had traction again.

Once they got out to the road, Joe lined both quads up with the ramps that leaned against the tailgate of the truck. He stopped his quad a couple of feet behind the ramps to leave himself room to drive out of the way. Brendan let his quad roll forward enough to give the chain some slack. He jumped off and unhooked the chain from both quads. Joe drove his quad around to the back of the other quad.

"Should I try to push it?" he asked.

Brendan looked at the ramps. There were two of them about a foot wide. They were made of perforated metal to provide traction. It was still raining. It hadn't let up for more than a few minutes in the last two days. The ramps were slick with rain. The quad weighed six hundred pounds. He walked up to the ramps and checked that they were braced as well as could be on the tailgate.

"Might as well give it a shot," he said. He climbed back on the dead quad and stood on the pegs. "Don't smack me too hard."

"I'll be as gentle as a kitten," said Joe. He drove up to the back of the quad. There was a clunk as the two bikes met. He drove forward. Brendan's quad moved smoothly up the ramp. Brendan leaned forward over the handlebars. Once Joe's front wheels were on the ramps they skittered slightly. Joe lifted off on the throttle slightly and the wheels straightened up again. Both quads stayed on the ramp. Joe gave it a bit more gas and both quads kept moving up the ramp. The front tires of Brendan's quad were now on the tail gate. Once all four of Joe's wheels were on the ramps he didn't have enough traction to push Brendan's quad any further. Both Joe and Brendan locked their respective parking brakes. They climbed carefully off of their quads and jumped to the ground.

"Should we pull her?" asked Joe.

"That's probably the best plan," said Brendan.

They walked around to the side of the truck and climbed into the back. They each braced one foot sideways in the crease where the tailgate was hinged and grabbed hold of the front rack. Brendan released the parking brake and they both leaned with all their weight to get the dead quad the rest of the way into the truck. It was nearly all the way in when Joe slipped on the wet truck bed. The quad started to roll back but Joe managed to jam his leg under the right front tire and it stopped. Brendan reached over and put the parking brake on.

"You okay," he asked.

"Never better," said Joe. He climbed to his feet and they braced themselves again, this time against the wheel wells inside the truck bed. Brendan released the brake and they pulled the quad the rest of the way into the truck. Brendan put the brake back on and strapped the front of the quad down. Joe climbed around the back. He backed his quad off the ramps and slid them in underneath Brendan's quad. He closed the tail gate.

Joe went to his quad and rode it up beside where Brendan was strapping down the back of his quad. "Now what?" he said. "What do you want to do about this block? What should we do about tomorrow?"

Brendan sat down on the back rack of the quad and propped his feet on the railing of the truck bed. "Well, it's 3 o'clock now. There are six people in there. Two more runs should set them up for the rest of the day. I can do it, or you can do it. I don't mind. I don't know how your blocks are doing? I think tomorrow might be stretching it with one quad. We're four days in. Maybe we should have an impromptu day off."

"In town or in camp?" asked Joe.

"Well, the crew will be pissed off, but I was thinking in camp. I just did a grocery run and I get the feeling that everyone's got enough booze squirreled away to make it a good party. The day off tomorrow will give us a chance to set the blocks up for the day after. Hopefully Gord can get us another quad up her by then and we'll be back on track."

"Fine with me. It's crap weather for planting anyway," said Joe. "But I think the crew would rather be in a nice warm hotel room with a shower tonight."

Brendan shook his head. "I don't think we can do it." He ticked off the points on his fingers. "One, we've got no cash to give them. Two, we'd have to drive them in which means one of us wouldn't be here to help set up the blocks. Three, with this rain the roads will be absolute crap and I'm not keen on taking the bus on them if I don't have to."

"Well, I guess it would give us a chance to work on access," said Joe. "Maybe we can hire some keeners to help out. The rain is definitely causing some problems."

"It's a plan then. Do you mind if I take the quad? I'll finish off this block. We'll let everyone know at dinner," said Brendan. "Can you let Cassandra and Amber know the plan?"

"No problem." Joe got off his quad. Brendan jumped down from the truck. He wiped the rain out of his face and got on Joe's quad. "I'll try not to break this one," he said.

"If you do, then we're going in to town, right?"

"I promise," said Brendan. He slewed the quad around on the muddy road and headed for the tree cache. Joe climbed into the truck and headed back to camp.

>> Farts Like Gold: 28

Posted by YandaMan at 10:59 PM