What day of the week is it?

The days are now starting to blend into one another.  My typical day begins with my alarm going off at 05:30 and then grabbing some breakfast to go which is usually a scrambled egg wrap and ‘back room brew’ coffee in a Styrofoam cup with international delight creamer (man I miss Starbucks).  Drinking coffee such as this takes me down memory lane…I remember going to a car dealership with my Dad and sisters as a child (aka Dad’s idea of babysitting).  Of course, the highlight of the trip for my Dad would be looking at all the shiny new cars and ‘oohing and ahhing’ over them and commenting on the size of the engine with the salesman.  Meanwhile my sisters and I would load up our cups with sugar cubes, powdered whitener and coffee forming a whitened sugary delight and then go and pretend to drive all the cars, anxiously waiting for the day we would be old enough to get our license.  (Back to my day)…I then proceed to get into my truck and head to the rig.   The morning sky is still very dark and so the stars are glistening above but I’m too scared to stand and observe (remember the bear)?  I arrive at the rig for the 06:30 safety meeting, sit in on the morning call with Calgary and go for a hazard hunt with the safety tech.  It’s usually then lunch time at which I head back to camp for a hot lunch.   After the 18:30 crew change safety meeting, I drive back to my temporary home, putting me back at camp at 19:00.  Then after dinner, I’ve got about 2 hours to call family and friends, check my email or watch television.  Every morning when the alarm goes off I can’t believe I have to get up and do this all over again. 

Occasionally the top drive (the motor which spins the drill pipe) needs troubleshooting therefore meaning that they crew can’t drill, so these tend to be quiet days.  When the crew isn’t drilling they have to clean the rig.  This is how I found out what the safety tech meant by a “guy’s” broom.  While on a hazard hunt, the safety tech asked if I noticed anything different about the broom and asked me to try and pick it up.  The inner feminist in me was dying to be able to sweep this broom across the rig, but to my surprise it was very heavy and quite difficult to lift.  Upon further examination I noticed that someone had added several giant washers near the brush head thereby adding weight to the broom and saving them from having to work-out in the evening.  This kills two birds with one stone, as they can build their biceps and shoulder muscles while on the job.  It makes sense, but something that probably wouldn’t occur to a female. 

No More Tears (just like the shampoo...)

Day 2 was better. No tears, I think that constitutes a successful day. I made it in for the 6:30am safety meeting (which felt like an accomplishment as it was very dark and foggy and I managed to find the rig).

After the meeting I went back into camp for breakfast, which was a major treat as the cook had made french toast. Let me explain why; for the past 2 years, I’ve been spoiled by my sister every morning with a warm breakfast. J is a morning person, and actually doesn’t find it painful to wake up at 5am (meanwhile upstairs I’m repeatedly hitting the snooze button). J insisted that working out in the morning was the way to go, and as she was my ride to work unless I wanted to take the bus I went with her.  Last June J got married and moved out to Ottawa for the year. What does this mean for me? I’m still getting up to work out when I’m in Calgary, but due to the bad sleeping past my alarm habit I have, it means breakfast on the go (coffee and a muffin and more coffee when I get to work.) So to see french toast at the camp this morning made it a good one, as it is one of my favourite breakfasts that J always used to make me.

After breakfast I talked over instant messaging with another colleague who had been through this field program. She said my initial reactions were normal and she felt the same way for the first bit too. She also advised me to make friends with the driller and foreman as once they talked to me everyone else would too.  We then went on to talk about her wedding planning and she mentioned she was in Seattle looking at dresses and gave me the name of the designer she likes. Looking at the website made me miss one of my true passions, fashion design and sewing and wonder what I’m doing out here? My colleague wished me luck and told me I could do it. She said that after every hitch she would treat herself to something girly on the way home; cute clothes, massage, spa day or a pedicure!

Afterwards I went on a hazard hunt with the safety tech. We finished in the doghouse where I took my colleague’s advice and spent some time talking to the driller. I also got to see the roughnecks in action, continually adding drill pipe with the infamous DOPE that a friend who had worked on the rigs told me about. DOPE in rig lingo is a drilling lubricant. There is a big bucket on the rig floor and the roughnecks take this tool that looks like a giant Q-tip, dip it into the DOPE and then lubricate the joints of the drill pipe before the iron roughneck screws them together. The reason the friend was telling me about DOPE is that he experienced a practical joke where a Styrofoam cup would get dipped in the DOPE and dropped on someone’s hardhat without them knowing. So he warned me that if at the safety meetings everyone was laughing, to look around at other people’s hardhats and if I didn’t see a cup, it was most likely on my hat.  Thank goodness that hasn’t happened yet.

In other news, I had refereed a few pre-season basketball college games the weekend before my first hitch and had sent an email to the assignor thanking him for the chance to get in some more games. He had responded with the following message:

Your welcome...keep working on your game, what I've heard is voice and presence. Otherwise, good feedback. Sometimes Carolyn, we need to step outside our comfort zone and stretch ourselves beyond what feels normal, until the new behaviour becomes new normal.

I thought it was interesting that he was able to give me some unsolicited words of wisdom, that are applicable to my officiating and to the field work situation without knowing anything about my career or personal life.  Sometimes God speaks to you in the funniest ways. Stepping out of my comfort zone…that is exactly what I need to do for the next 9 months. This isn’t the comfortable office that I have gotten used to for the past 2 years. This is new and unfamiliar ground. The lyrics from the Jars of Clay song, “Call my Name” came to mind:

“Lead me out to the ground I’ve never walked on, only to rely on You alone”

God is always trying to help me grow and even though I can’t see it right now, perhaps this is preparing me for something in my future.

Hitch #1, Day #1

HITCH:

1.to fasten or tie, especially temporarily, by means of a hook, rope, strap, etc.; tether: Steve hitched the horse to one of the posts.

2.to harness (an animal) to a vehicle (often followed by up).

3.to raise with jerks (usually followed by up); hike up: to hitch up one's trousers.

4.to move or draw (something) with a jerk.

5. Slang. to bind by marriage vows; unite in marriage; marry: They got hitched in '79

Wow, was I in for a shock arriving at my first hitch (engineering lingo for field visit- not to be confused with any of the above dictionary definitions or the Will Smith movie from the same name.)  I now can say “home sweet home” and truly mean it.  These three little words will never have as much significance as when I fly back after completing my two weeks in the field...let me explain why.

My first day on the rigs was tough. Tougher than I could have imagined, and tougher than any of my colleagues experiences led me to believe it would be. After getting off the plane my first impressions were really good; crisp Fall air and a beautiful small town landscape.  I was met by the senior safety tech, who was very friendly and I picked up my rental truck…yes a truck and not just any truck but a big Dodge Ram (with a HEMI!)  This may not seem that exciting to you, but for me there are two reasons as to why this is so exciting.  First off, my car at home is a Toyota of the nerd variety.  The second reason is, rental cars have always meant holidays in my family growing up.  How could it get any better?  So far I’m feeling good; I am on a paid “holiday” with work.

Once in my rental truck, I followed the safety tech out of town.  I begin to wonder what is wrong with this picture.  Why are we leaving civilization?  After about a half hour of driving I was surrounded by a thick forest of trees.  The two lane divided highway morphed into a dirt and gravel road and right there and then, I had this horrible feeling that I should have turned around, feigned travel sickness and returned to the comfort of my cubicle in the big city.  Despite not wanting to, I followed the safety tech to camp to unpack and ‘check-in’.  In saying 'check-in' this meant that I would be trapped here, a trailer for a hotel room, and no sign of civilization.  Somehow my holiday rental truck dreams were vanishing quickly and even if I wanted to leave, I didn't know how to get back to the town site. 

At the entrance to camp I had to stop the truck and open up the electric gate.  I’m not sure what your life experiences are, but this is a definite first for me.  As I was opening it, I wondered whether it was to keep people in or keep something out.  No, this was not a former prison site (as I would have assumed from the usage of the electric fence), I’m still in the forest, and the electric fence is to keep out the bears-aka Ursidae Carnivorus (I made up the carnivorus part, however, is it just me or do things sound scarier in latin?)   BEARS!!!  I hope you can tell from the caps lock and exclamations that I am scared of wild animals. I understand that we are intruding on their habitat, they are the ones that are scared of us, if you don't bother them, they won't bother you, travel in large groups, etc etc (I've read the bear pamphlet hundreds of times while entering Banff national park, trying to calm my fears) but somehow I feel like a last chance before hibernation appetizer, and if I don't undo this fence properly then I'll have a nice char, so pleasing to the Ursidae Carnivorus palette.

 

The Camp is a series of trailers pushed together and the "rooms"… (I think my mom described it best upon seeing it over video chat) are like a stretched out airplane washrooms.  Observing the room, I can see why it was recommended to bring your own sheets and sleeping bag.  Which I didn't do and now there's no way to fix it.  Oh well, I guess I could always sleep in my clothes, and it might be a bit more rustic this way which is how I'm feeling right now.  I'm trying to channel my inner outdoorswomen/survivor man to avoid a complete meltdown.  If it sounds strange to you that I consider sleeping in a trailer, in my work clothes as outdoorsy, then read on. 

My family is not that outdoorsy.  My parents both hated camping growing up (my mom came from a family of seven, log jammed in a tent for two, sunny side up eggs on a Coleman stove cooked one by one) and to this day, they say is one of the reasons they got married.  So growing up, “camping” meant pitching an IKEA tent in my bedroom, only to leave it half way through the night because it was so uncomfortable and after-all you were indoors and your bed was right there...so back at camp, I close my door and notice that it doesn't have a lock on it.  Initially I was shocked but then I realized the bears are probably the only thing to be worried about here and with the electric gate and the fact that they don't have opposable thumbs I think I'm pretty safe. 

After lunch at camp, we went back to the rig and went for a tour.  I’ll have to admit it was pretty neat to see the crew in action and drilling away into the formation.  It was a triple rig, which means that there are 3 attachments of pipe in the stand.  The derrickhand works on the monkeyboard (at approximately a height of 30m from the rig floor) and handles the upper end of the pipe when tripping in (pipe going into hole) or tripping out (pipe coming out of hole).  I met the rig manager-aka tool push or even just push.  Afterwards, I went up to the doghouse (that is the term for the control room where the driller works on the rig floor.)  It houses all the controls and is also a ‘hang-out’ room where the crew eats.  To me it felt like the Berenstain Bears story where Brother Bear and his friends build a clubhouse and sister isn’t allowed in.  Not that there was physically was a sign permitting me from entering, but coming from a family with 2 sisters and no brothers, it was intimidating to walk up to a place with so many strange looking tools, controls and just chill with the boys.  I’m sure that I looked like a deer in headlights with my brand new coveralls and clean boots. 

When I got back to camp in the evening I loaded up my gmail and attempted to call home. The connection was poor and I was pretty hungry so after wiping my tears (yes I had a meltdown, equivalent to that of an elementary school kid who just had their recess taken away) I went into the kitchen to have some dinner.  I was fortunate to have dinner with the cook (the only other female at the camp) and she informed me that there was a phone in the office that I could use.  I hadn’t had that bad of a day, so I’m not sure what set me off.  I think it was the combination of lack of sleep from packing the previous night, hormones, and the shock of the living conditions of camp based on my own assumptions of what it would be like.  It was all more than I could handle leading to a lot of tears being shed.  Once I was in bed, in my street clothes and jacket, I was able to fall asleep rather quickly, even knowing my door wasn’t locked.  What a first day!