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!