Trucks and Planes and Choppers OH MY!

Hey friends!

So by now you all know that I flew off to Whitehorse no more than 2 days ago. If you are a Facebook frequenter you also know that today has been, and will remain to be, probably the most eventful day of my life. OH and Happy Birthday Sydney Knowles.
Let's start at the beginning......

I took the liberty of seeing of one the local bars in Whitehorse last night with a few other ladies who traveled with me from Vancouver. I don't know if it was the lonely, forgotten Christmas decorations on the wall or the 1970's decor made up of things that have been scotch taped one too many times, but something told me this was going to be an interesting encounter. Aside from being whistled at when we first walked in by some eclectic locals while they called out "Yuuuur definitely not from around heeeeere AHAHAHAHAHAHA (#drunkencakle)", the big, curly haired, overly friendly bartender and the atmosphere was actually quite to my liking. It was a very chill and down to earth way to spend the first evening of my big adventure. One thing I would change....they didn't serve caesars, it's like it's a crime.

Following this, we walked back in the dim sunlight at 10pm, and then headed to bed because we all knew we had an early morning ahead of us. As I nodded off after a very emotional and tiresome day, I was unsure of what my camp would be like and frustrated of the waiting. I was ready to hop on the next flight back to Vancouver, which I completely expected.

This morning we awoke at 6:30 to start packing up. We were supposed to be on the road by 7:00. The next thing I knew it was 8:30 and someone was calling out "Where's Holly, Which one's Holly?". I have to admit, at this point I was hoping for it to be the Queen needing me for some special ceremony, meaning I would need to leave on a plane asap. On the contrary, it was Dylan telling me I would be driving the big diesel Dodge truck in front of me for 5 hours into Mayo. I immediately started laughing, very funny, pick on the little blonde girl. But he was not kidding. He told me to watch out for the ice divits and be ware of the shoulder. Instantly I flashed back to my dad the first day I learned to drive "Hug the line, Hug the line! You're not hugging the line!!" Dylan was pretty good about my clear anxiety and asked it I had this. I replied "I got this, it's all good" (which is very reminiscent of something my mom would say).Whether "I had this or not" was disguised by the fact that I was not about to back down and let a guy do it for me. After a few quick instructions, I was on my way. Let me tell you, I hugged the crap out of that line. Thanks dad.

When I arrived at the airport in Mayo (sorry, the concrete landing pad and trimmed down bush with a port-a-potty for shelter) I met two of the nicest people I think I will ever meet. Laura and Cleeve, a retired couple who reside in Saskatchewan during the winter, spend their entire summer making sure all cargo (human and otherwise) gets to where they need to go. Then I met the pilot of my bush plane, Eric. Poor Eric. Our plane couldn't get off the ground because the steering on it went...greaaaat. So I waited another 2 hours in Mayo until another plane was able to take me. This guys name was Rick and he liked me because I reminded him of his own daughter who is in his eyes "very pretty and tall". I didn't realize I was tall. But anyways I had a very nice first experience in a bush plane while chatting away into my headset to Rick. I recommend to everyone that they get to fly in a bush plane at least once in their lives! The scenery of flying through the mountains and through "u-shaped" valleys (thanks geo 12) was breath taking. If there is one thing I will take away from this experience, it is the beauty of the landscape and all it has to offer.

After landing at the first camp, Racla, I once again unloaded my body bag (and by I, I mean the strapping young men who work at that camp. I have no shame, it's far too heavy for me and it hurts my hands holding it) and waited for my chariot in the form of a chopper to take me to my official 8 week home. Looking around at this camp I was once again hit by enormous anxiousness in anticipation of if my camp would be this small, this blazingly hot, and this full of nice people. When the chopper finally arrived, Miles, my chauffeur, very briskly gave me the low down on the aircraft. It went something like this "Don't walk to the back, the propeller will take you out. Don't walk with your head up, the top propeller will take you out. Don't undo the seatbelt too fast, it will hit the side of the chopper and that's expensive" and cue Holly to start freaking out because I probably would have done all of those things.He then asked me if I was scared of flying....does it really matter? But with that new realm of knowledge I made it safely into the helicopter, and out. The ride to my camp, Nadeleen was unbelievable. The giant front windows of the chopper allowed me to see everything. I couldn't believe that I was this lucky to have seen such beauty. Everything is so untouched. And as we majestically floated down into the camp (I say majestic because I honestly felt like a Phoenix flying so serenely  into the valley) I looked around to see snow capped mountains enveloping a stream running through dozens of white tents. Oh my, this was it.

I am now settling in and am rooming with 3 really nice gals, Heather, Jenny and Sarah, who are all geology students. Ian is my camp manager and was very good about carrying my duffel bag around the camp while he showed me around, which apparently my mom did sneak into after all judging on how heavy it is, so you know...I've got that going for me. The cook is from Paris, France (not Ontario) so maybe I will learn more than just cooking after all! I am hopeful to see what the next part of this journey will bring. I do see myself adjusting just fine in a few days, how could I not as I look out to  a trickling stream and monstrous white tipped mountains?? And the satellite T.V. doesn't hurt either....GOCANUCKSGO!

Packing in a duffel bag

So friends, this is it. My flight goes at 11:30 tomorrow and, despite some major reservations, I will be on it.

And so, time to pack. I spent some time at the Army and Navy store, as well as Mark's Work Warehouse and pretty much every other equipment store making sure I have everything I will need to fight off the bears. Despite one little breakdown in the sleeping bag isle, I feel I have been doing pretty well. I even went so far as to buy hiking boots, something I never would have for-seen myself having six months ago.But as I stare blankly at the empty canvas duffel bag on my bedroom floor, I can't help but think; "Will my sash and crown fit in there?".

But, as much as I will miss my hair straighter, blow dryer, stiletto heels, makeup and all the rest of it, I am the most excited to shed all of it for 2 months and live free of judgement. Unless of course mosquitoes and clapping beetles care what I look like, in which case I will be sending for some mascara and blush (and maybe a ball gown or two). This experience will definitely make camping at Alouette seem mighty comfortable!

Plenty of family and friends have joked with me about this big adventure, and I laughed along with them not quite realizing how big this endeavor really is for me. I have been away from home before, sure and I now live pretty much alone on UBC campus, so I do feel I am fairly independent. However there is something much bigger to this experience than I was willing to face before. I am travelling completely out of my comfort zone and I will not be able to hop on a skytrain or bus and be back in my bubble within the hour  That has become the scariest part for me. I have no doubts that I will end up enjoying myself and meet a lot of great people, but for now that is overshadowed by the longing to stay with my blanket and bottle in Maple Ridge. But I am going to do this, and give it all I've got! Who knows, maybe I'll meet a nice bear and become best friends like Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh. Wish me luck!!