Working in the Chilcotin during the summer was one of the finest experiences of my thirty years at the Pacific Forestry Centre. What made it even more interesting and enjoyable was our summer help.
This particular summer Sue, Paul and I had started doing surveys of the lodge pole pine forests in BC, beginning in the Chilcotin. Most of the Chilcotin is relatively free from mosquitoes but if there was water anywhere near by, cover your head and start swatting.
One of our trips out found us in the pine forests between Nimpo and Anahim Lake, which as it turned out, at least from my perspective was one of the swampiest areas that I have ever worked in. It seems that everywhere you looked there was a swamp infested with those little beasts known as mosquitoes.
Not only were there mosquitoes in abundance there were gazillions of their little cousins the guys with the little white boots known as black flies. Get bitten by one of those little monsters and the blood would really flow. Make sure that your trouser cuffs were wrapped tightly around your ankles and your shirt sleeves were tied tightly around your wrists, because even then you would have rows of purple welts and blood running down your legs from around the top of your socks and the cuffs of your shirt sleeves.
It was the mosquitoes however that drove us crazy, these little beasts would hover overhead in huge clouds until their hum would send us into a state of hysteria or at least drive us to spray on gallons of the hikers best friend known as deet. The hysteria brought on by the mosquito was far stronger then what deet might in fact do to the desperate hiker. As with all chemicals the expediency of the moment often overrode the potential danger.
I did learn one thing however, deet is a good solvent for most things plastic or at least it’s chemical carrier is, as the handle of the increment borer would to turn into a sticky mess every time I applied deet to my exposed body parts, and this was at least three to four times each day when in mosquito country.
I can still hear the hum of the mosquitoes overhead and remember quite vividly the time that Sue Poppel freaked out and I thought for sure had gone completely bonkers when she went into a hysterical fit when they had gotten in behind her glasses and were pinging off her eyeballs.
I can’t say as I felt as sorry for her as I should have, as she used to completely get on my nerves and I sometimes got a sense of perverse satisfaction for her distress. This of course went against my upbringing and moral decency and I had to pay for it with a guilty conscience, well maybe just a little bit.
Well, gone are the days when my jeans were black from mosquitoes trying to suck my blood. Even though the mosquitoes never made me itch or swell up, I still hated them anyway.
Bird Cove Looking into Bay
Looking West into the Bay
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
103 Stuck in the Mud with Doug
One of my good friends over the years at the Pacific Forestry Service was Doug Linton a very colorful character who spent most of the eighties roaming the Chilcotin with me. It was early May and we were out again cruising the Chilcotin for possible Mountain Pine Beetle sites. This was our first scouting trip of the season and the roads in many places were still quite muddy and soft because of the melting snows.
I enjoyed working with Doug even though he came from a completely different background then me but I appreciated his perspective on life. He had quite a different outlook and was far from spiritual in the traditional sense but was very respectful of my beliefs even though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would go to church.
This particular day we were cruising through the pine forests on what might be called a road, at least it had been used that winter as a means of hauling pine from a large landing to a sawmill in Williams Lake.
Doug was behind the wheel and came flying down the road and out into the landing where we slid to a stop, all four wheels up to their axels in the deep gumbo. We were stuck and I mean stuck, what had looked like a nicely graded clearing turned out to be a patch of bottomless gumbo.
If I remember correctly the air turned blue as Doug described the situation as best he could. And even though I did not say anything I would have to admit that Doug’s description of our predicament was fairly accurate.
The only thing to do now was to get the jack-all out and go to work.
I enjoyed working with Doug even though he came from a completely different background then me but I appreciated his perspective on life. He had quite a different outlook and was far from spiritual in the traditional sense but was very respectful of my beliefs even though he couldn’t fathom why anyone would go to church.
This particular day we were cruising through the pine forests on what might be called a road, at least it had been used that winter as a means of hauling pine from a large landing to a sawmill in Williams Lake.
Doug was behind the wheel and came flying down the road and out into the landing where we slid to a stop, all four wheels up to their axels in the deep gumbo. We were stuck and I mean stuck, what had looked like a nicely graded clearing turned out to be a patch of bottomless gumbo.
If I remember correctly the air turned blue as Doug described the situation as best he could. And even though I did not say anything I would have to admit that Doug’s description of our predicament was fairly accurate.
The only thing to do now was to get the jack-all out and go to work.
In minutes out boots were the size of water buckets with the gumbo clinging to them like snot to a kids face. We could hardly lift out feet they were so heavy.
We began by jacking and or digging each wheel up and out of the mud to make room for whatever we could find in the nearby woods to place under it for traction. The truck was at least the length of itself out in the soft gumbo and it would take us well over two hours to free it from the mud.
Before we freed it from the gumbo we had to jacked each wheel up at least four or five times, as the truck would only move about three feet before the wheels would slide off the chunks of support wood and the truck would again be bellied out in the gumbo.
We began by jacking and or digging each wheel up and out of the mud to make room for whatever we could find in the nearby woods to place under it for traction. The truck was at least the length of itself out in the soft gumbo and it would take us well over two hours to free it from the mud.
Before we freed it from the gumbo we had to jacked each wheel up at least four or five times, as the truck would only move about three feet before the wheels would slide off the chunks of support wood and the truck would again be bellied out in the gumbo.
Shovelling the mud was also a real challenge as the gumbo refused to leave the shovel and if you weren’t careful the shovel would take off with the gumbo.
In the meantime Doug and I were getting more frustrated as the operation continued, Doug however cracked first about halfway through the scenario and looking at me says with the most disgusted look on his face he said, “I don’t know how you can stand there and be so stoic.” All I could say was, “You’re swearing enough for both of us.”
That was the last of the talk but boy were we sure relieved when the old Dodge crew cab again found solid ground.
It seems that anytime work is done on a road in the winter it leaves the ground really soft. A few years later this sort of thing happened again, but only this time I was driving on an otherwise good road when suddenly the truck hit a stretch of winter road repair, and again bellied out in the gumbo. Malcolm Shrimpton and Sue Poppel took off and left Paul Bodwyn and myself to dig us out. Only this time we used some old boards we had found from a dilapidated shack that happened to be near by. At least we had something to put under the wheels to make it a might easier, but it still took the proverbial two hours to get the truck back on solid ground.
In the meantime Doug and I were getting more frustrated as the operation continued, Doug however cracked first about halfway through the scenario and looking at me says with the most disgusted look on his face he said, “I don’t know how you can stand there and be so stoic.” All I could say was, “You’re swearing enough for both of us.”
That was the last of the talk but boy were we sure relieved when the old Dodge crew cab again found solid ground.
It seems that anytime work is done on a road in the winter it leaves the ground really soft. A few years later this sort of thing happened again, but only this time I was driving on an otherwise good road when suddenly the truck hit a stretch of winter road repair, and again bellied out in the gumbo. Malcolm Shrimpton and Sue Poppel took off and left Paul Bodwyn and myself to dig us out. Only this time we used some old boards we had found from a dilapidated shack that happened to be near by. At least we had something to put under the wheels to make it a might easier, but it still took the proverbial two hours to get the truck back on solid ground.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
102 Sarah Lee Cherry Pie, Anyone?
Some of the best experiences I had working for the Pacific Forestry Centre as a technician were the days I spent in the Chilcotin country roaming the Fraser Plateau in a Suburban four by four. Our base of operations was out of Riske Creek where we had a number of trailers behind the Chilcotin Inn.
One of the studies that we conducted during those years was to learn more about the dispersal of the mountain pine beetle. This required flying balloons filled with helium from which we hung traps to hopefully catch the beetles and learn more of how they traveled from place to place and at what height.
I will never forget the time in which one of our balloons got caught in a sixty foot spruce tree and I had to climb to it’s very top and free the balloon. I don’t mind saying I was extremely nervous as I slowly climbed the tree inch by inch through its mass of prickly branches covered with pitch. If you have ever touched a spruce you will know what I am talking about when I say prickly branches, as nothing is pricklier then a spruce. And yes, don’t forget the pitch, I came down covered with pitch, but I rescued a $700 balloon. I felt good about it, not so much that I had rescued a $700 balloon, but because I made it down alive.
Much of our experiments were on or near the property where the Canadian Military Engineers bivouacked several times a year and we got to see them practice their war games as we drove to our study area. I was always curious as to what they were doing as they ran around blowing things up and whatever else they did to sharpen their skills.
On the way to our study area and the military reserve was the local dump, which had the most amazing stuff, mostly because of the military’s presence. We found ourselves checking the dump every day after work to see what new items had shown up at our “tasty pantry”. Unused rations appeared every day, but the best time to visit the dump was the military’s last day out, just after they broke camp to return to their base at Chilliwack. The haul that day would be better then average as any opened cases would be tossed out with whatever was still in them.
The choicest haul ever from the dump was the time Doug rescued a case and a half of Sara Lee cherry pies. I still remember the night we ate hot cherry pie with vanilla ice cream thanks to the Canadian Military Engineers, and Carol, one of the crew said, “No way am I going to eat anything from the dump.” But when she saw us smacking our lips for more, she soon got over being squeamish, and got in on the feed.
So the question still remains, does Canada really need a military or should we rely on the US to protect our borders? You have my vote, just as long as the pie keeps coming, “Go Engineers, Go!”
One of the studies that we conducted during those years was to learn more about the dispersal of the mountain pine beetle. This required flying balloons filled with helium from which we hung traps to hopefully catch the beetles and learn more of how they traveled from place to place and at what height.
I will never forget the time in which one of our balloons got caught in a sixty foot spruce tree and I had to climb to it’s very top and free the balloon. I don’t mind saying I was extremely nervous as I slowly climbed the tree inch by inch through its mass of prickly branches covered with pitch. If you have ever touched a spruce you will know what I am talking about when I say prickly branches, as nothing is pricklier then a spruce. And yes, don’t forget the pitch, I came down covered with pitch, but I rescued a $700 balloon. I felt good about it, not so much that I had rescued a $700 balloon, but because I made it down alive.
Much of our experiments were on or near the property where the Canadian Military Engineers bivouacked several times a year and we got to see them practice their war games as we drove to our study area. I was always curious as to what they were doing as they ran around blowing things up and whatever else they did to sharpen their skills.
On the way to our study area and the military reserve was the local dump, which had the most amazing stuff, mostly because of the military’s presence. We found ourselves checking the dump every day after work to see what new items had shown up at our “tasty pantry”. Unused rations appeared every day, but the best time to visit the dump was the military’s last day out, just after they broke camp to return to their base at Chilliwack. The haul that day would be better then average as any opened cases would be tossed out with whatever was still in them.
The choicest haul ever from the dump was the time Doug rescued a case and a half of Sara Lee cherry pies. I still remember the night we ate hot cherry pie with vanilla ice cream thanks to the Canadian Military Engineers, and Carol, one of the crew said, “No way am I going to eat anything from the dump.” But when she saw us smacking our lips for more, she soon got over being squeamish, and got in on the feed.
So the question still remains, does Canada really need a military or should we rely on the US to protect our borders? You have my vote, just as long as the pie keeps coming, “Go Engineers, Go!”
Saturday, June 25, 2011
101 Marking Trees the Easy Way
Riding in a copter is kind of a neat experience and it wasn’t long after I started working with Les McMullen that the opportunity came my way. The research that Les was doing required that any bark beetle infestations within a certain distance to our study had to be eliminated. Copters were used, because ground surveillance for these spot infestations was time consuming and uncertain.
This particular morning we took off in a Bell Jet Ranger and in about fifteen minutes were at the jobsite. The ride to the site was fun and exciting, and to make the job easier when we got to the work site, Les had asked the pilot to take the doors off. Because of the rounded shape of the Bell’s body you were in fact partly sitting over nothing and could easily look down on the tops of the pine trees below.
This was kind of cool but only for a very few minutes as the pilot in following Les’ directions kept circling back and forth and you felt like a tether ball at the end of a rope. This however made it easy for Les in the meantime to fling rolls of adding machine tape out of the open doorway onto the infected pine trees for locating later by foot.
When I stated this was cool for a few minute I really meant seconds as the motion immediately overwhelmed my senses and I became as sick as a dog, maybe even sicker, if that were possible. I thought I was going to toss my cookies any second, but mercifully we were finished with that part of the operation and my head stopped spinning as we soon headed back to the airport.
You can’t believe how glad I was to climb out of the copter and wobble over to the pickup for the drive to the plot.
This particular morning we took off in a Bell Jet Ranger and in about fifteen minutes were at the jobsite. The ride to the site was fun and exciting, and to make the job easier when we got to the work site, Les had asked the pilot to take the doors off. Because of the rounded shape of the Bell’s body you were in fact partly sitting over nothing and could easily look down on the tops of the pine trees below.
This was kind of cool but only for a very few minutes as the pilot in following Les’ directions kept circling back and forth and you felt like a tether ball at the end of a rope. This however made it easy for Les in the meantime to fling rolls of adding machine tape out of the open doorway onto the infected pine trees for locating later by foot.
When I stated this was cool for a few minute I really meant seconds as the motion immediately overwhelmed my senses and I became as sick as a dog, maybe even sicker, if that were possible. I thought I was going to toss my cookies any second, but mercifully we were finished with that part of the operation and my head stopped spinning as we soon headed back to the airport.
You can’t believe how glad I was to climb out of the copter and wobble over to the pickup for the drive to the plot.
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Bird Cove
Looking East from House