TIME FOLLOWS ME

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE TWO MUFFINS, TWO JUICES, TWO MILK

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

TWO MUFFINS, TWO JUICES, TWO MILKS

TWO COFFEES

Each day started off the same. Had two juice, two muffins, two milk for breakfast, and two coffees if I had time. I couldn't eat solid food this early in the morning. Maybe it had something to do with how my head felt, and the amount of beer I drank the night before. The morning rolled 'round way too early, having to be on Base at 'round 7am and being picked up outside the hotel. Never seemed I had time to order eggs and bacon.

It rained last night and was still raining. Got to base and just hung around. Finally I drove out to Fire 252 on the Jones Road. The road was worse than yesterday. Did my driving and finished work at 8:30pm. Worked 13 hours.

A.P. picked me up at base after work. We saw one hitchhiker and picked him up. Dropped him off at the Youth Hostel. A.P talked about this monastery he had visited in Quebec and the Brothers there. He had listened to a taped lecture by Jean Vanier and it was supposed to be really good. I had read one of his books, "Tears of Silence" I thought was really good. This Vanier guy was deep. Went to sleep after smoking again. This was becoming routine as well. At least my eye was not bothering me anymore.

The next day started at 7am as usual. It had snowed last night for God's sake, and was just horrible out. It was so cold, even Jack Frost had to put on an extra sweater. I was thinking, "Better get the hell out of Dodge real soon."

My first trip of the day was the 45 mile or so drive up the Jones Road to pick up the men from Fire 310. They had a bad night, "Poor buggers," as Norman McBride another farmer friend used to say. Used to help him with the haying when I was a kid. I knew this is what local farmers did for the last two hundred years, helping each other out in times of need, sharing your equipment and your time. I used to hand make stukkes of hay. I'd be pulled behind the baler on a sled called a "Stukker" while Norman or Howard drove. The bales would come out of the baler, and I would lift them into place onto the Stukker. Each bale weighted between 50 and 70lbs. When I got the right amount, I forget, maybe ten bales, I would pull the lever leaving the stukke on the field. Did this and also loaded hay onto the hay wagon, taking it to the barn where we used an old rusty elevator to get it up to the loft. It was really hot heavy work. We would sprinkle salt on the bales so that they wouldn't combust and catch fire later, 'cause they could be a little damp. Had to wear gloves 'cause the salt would get into the baler twine wounds on your hands making them really sting. We would have lunch together in the old farmhouse where Norman and Howard had been brought into the world, seventy odd years earlier. The brothers together were two of thirteen brothers and sisters, one of whom died. The two boys never married and stayed on the farm with their housekeeper Miss Rose. She stayed on after delivering them as babies 'til she passed away at eighty-three a couple of years earlier. My first taste of raw milk was with them over lunch. "How'd you like that taste," Norman would say? "Fresh out them pink titties." I really enjoyed their company, and real down to earth humour.

The crew warmed up in the double cab of the truck. The round trip was about 100 miles. I had learned the "art of double clutching." Instead of using the brakes to slow the truck I would double clutch into lower gears and the engine would slow us down. My Father had taught me that as he drove heavy trucks. It was really useful descending those bumpy hills.

Today, I managed to start a fire today in the workshop. Filling up a camp stove with naphtha gas, it overflowed all over the place. I thought I had cleaned it all up but when I tested the stove, lighting it, the stove and rag burst into flames. I had to drop it on the warehouse floor. Used a fire extinguisher to put it out. Didn't burn down the workshop, but I felt embarrassed and caused a bit of commotion. After four different rides I was sent back down the Jones Road again, my second home it seemed. I think the front end of the truck is going to fall off, it got beat up so bad today.

It was great to get back to the hotel and write in my notebook.