“I never meet anyone who hates making $450 a day, more than you guys. Why don’t you just move back to the city and get a job at Starbucks, making 60 dollars a day as a barista, and live in your shitty $1000, one room apartment.”
So yes. I admit it. I did it. I went tree planting. I sold my soul for a buck and traded awaymy dignity, which will take years before it's fully returned. But, I am done, and since I have now planted what is hopefully my last tree ever– 62 760, this year and I’m approximating what is close to 1/4 million lifetime– I feel that now is a good time to clear up some misconceptions in the air with regards to the occupation that was once rumored to be deemed too cruel and unusual of a punishment for convicted felons.
But first, some terminology:
- High-Baller: Term used to describe those who are the most proficient at conifer installation and as such, are held with a sort of disdainful reverence by the majority in the social structure of the camp/crew. High-Ballers can be extrapolated into three groups: High-Baller, Mutant and Legendary-Ballers.
- Low-Baller: The opposite of High-Baller, Low-Ballers are can vary widely in their position amongst the crew. Some are considered mascots, and because of their positive attitude, they retain a quasi-jester position on the crew, and usually can be found hanging out at the cache smoking. The Low-Baller who “just can’t hack it” ends up becoming the focal point with all that is wrong in the life of the other planters. They inspire debate amongst the crew, as to wether or not their seat in the truck might be better utilized for a coffee machine or a dog.
- Cream: Extremely good land for the price. Can also be used ironically: “Just go around; I’m creaming out the slash.”
- Creaming Out: Purposefully and strategically planting the “best part of the piece/land”.
- Slash: The debris left behind by the loggers. Is often slippery and pointy and literally a pain in the ass.
- Bagup(s): Refers to both the act of putting trees into bags and the number of missions into the land.
“I don’t plant for money, I do it for the experience.” – “Well, I have plenty of experience, so why don’t you give me your money, and I’ll give you my experience?”
Planters are from all different walks of life. Some are career planters, with decades of experience. They begin on the coast in March and gradually plant their way into the interior for May. That will remain their until sometime in July and usually break for a month or so before returning to the coast for the fall. Insurable hours is more important to this category than tree prices.
Lots of planters are students, who simply don’t have any other choice but to plant to cover the cost of tuition and living while being unemployed for the winter months.
Some people plant because they have nothing better to do. They want the experience of living in a camp and spend their time in the great out doors. I detest these people most of all.
This video is a pretty accurate reflection on tree planting.
“Plant smoother, not faster; Smarter, not harder.”
On the surface, tree planting is pretty simple. Use the shovel to make a hole, put the tree in the hole, close the hole, drop a flag, take three steps and repeat. Do this a couple thousand times a day and you’re well on your way to becoming a dirty tree planter.
As physically demanding as the job is though, it’s overcoming the mental barriers that defines a planter. Most ballers are not prime physical specimens, though having a high endurance level is essential. I’ve witnessed 5’6, 110 lbs women ball an entire camp without breaking a sweat. There is more skill and finesse involved than brute strength, which is why the planter who puts 2800 in works half as hard as the planter who puts in 1400. But the mental toughness required to get up a 4:30 in the morning, knowing full well that you are going to get eaten alive, impaled on sticks, hailed on all day while planting your first two bag-ups into to a rock face is the real challenge that planters must overcome.
No one gets paid if the trees don’t go into the ground.
“I wish I could just... you know... come to somewhere in the middle of the last bag up.”
The baller’s motions are effortless, as he/she moves through the piece at the consistent pace of a metronome, hitting high-spot after high-spot, stopping only to switch tree bundles over to the picker side of the bags, or reload the flagger. When pounding, life is good. A feeling of invincibility overcomes the planter as the taste of cents turing into dollars salivates his/her lips. Energy seems endless as they move through the land, too quick for even the bugs to grab a bite.
However, this isn’t always the case. To truly be a High-Baller, one most learn how to rep the dark side...
Just like in Star Wars, planters must learn how to use hate, anger and greed to become all powerful. They can not solely rely on the teachings of the Jedi to get the job done.
It’s easy to sit down and bitch at the cache, but a true baller has overcome this. They have learned how to utilize the negative energy which flows through the block, and turn it against the evil Qwraoug, the demon responsible for hidden rocks, bad weather, and destroyer of quads.
Qwraoug is a fucking asshole.
High-Ballers understand how easily and quickly morale can shift amongst a crew, and either choose to be a pillar of enthusiastic positive attitude in defiance of such cascading emotions, or simple ignore it and everyone else.
It just takes one person to ruin an already terrible day of tree planting.
“We have come for your cream. And your women.”
There is a simple series of questions a planter can ask themselves if they are unsure wether or not they have attained the status of HIgh-Baller:
- Do you like tree planting?
- Does your production fluctuate depending on the day of the shift, weather, access, or land?
- Have you ever planted a bad tree?
- Do you mange land and plant to the specifications explicitly laid out to you, by either the foreman or contractor?
- Would you use any colour of flagger besides blue?
- Would you ever hesitate to “bump on a stump” or do a naked bag up?
- Do you clean up your bundle wrappers, break down your boxes and meticulously write down your tallies at every bag up?
- Do you spend less than 40 minutes a day at the cache?
- Has the imminent threat of a bear attack ever deterred you from bagging out?
- Has it been more than two days since you last threatened to burn the forest down, while jumping up and down on your bags, because some rookie planted the front of the piece and left you the creamy blowdown along the tree line?
If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, you’re not a High-Baller. Don’t worry though, there is always next season; which if you were are a High-Baller, would know in the deepest, most recessive pockets of your blackened heart, that you’ll be apart of.
“Okay, let’s try not to fuck up the prescription again today. It’s 55 percent spruce, 20 percent pine, 15 percent fir and 10 cedar. The bundles are 15, 25, 10 and 10 respectfully. The fir goes in on the slope, the spruce and cedar in the wet. Pine can go anywhere other than the wet, and don’t plant the fir in fir stumps. Got it this time?”
As terrible as this last-resort profession is, the feeling of bagging out on the last bag up on a Friday is glorious feeling that some people will only experience a few times in their life.
This might seem like a bit of an exaggeration, but I can assure you that once the final tree of the shift is in the ground, the culmination of blood, sweat and tears the goes along with planting 10+K trees is washed away in a triumphant walk back to the truck.
Spirits are high with the anticipation of a day off, in which laundry, boot repairs and laying around doing absolutely nothing are the highest priority.
There’s usually a few beers involved too.
It’s funny though that once the season is done, and the planters return to whatever existence dominates their life, there is a lingering feeling, almost a desire to return to the cut blocks and pound a few trees in just for fun. And I’m not talking about Christmas Toe either.
For some reason– that I have never been able to wrap my head around– when the trees are all gone, the boxes burnt and the trucks cleaned, it only ever feels like I planted one tree. That’s all I can seem to recall.
“Brandon gets break on density. He’s only got one eye so... space wide.”
I would like to give special thanks to the 2011 Gainer Resources planting crew.
Brandon– The one-eyed, ginger mutant who was the pillar of positive attitude.
Alida– The "mom" of the crew, who not only provided free acupuncture, but who also helped make the planting days infinitely more bearable.
Drew– The undeniable camp High-Baller. His prowess through the slash when he has that 1000 mile stare, is something to be reckoned with.
Wes– The rookie who overcame a lot to become a bona fide planter. Congrats man.
Julia– The only person I've ever meet who reps the dark side more than I do.
Kia– The only 16 year-old, 2K a day planter I have ever, and probably will ever, meet. Watch out for this one.
Aiden– For posting the position on FB, forcing me back into the land and allowing me to plant my first 100 trees shallow.
And the Gainer Family– Thank you for inviting us into your home and making us all feel welcome. I hope we weren't too much to handle.
No comments:
Post a Comment