Bush Cook

Last week I decided to pull out my parents’ old Minolta camera. You know the one I’m talking about - the un-digital camera. There’s probably one loitering in your parents’ hall closet (or in your hall closet if you are the parent). The camera that so lovingly captured a multitude of memories before being ruthlessly cast aside in the novelty of a digital, film-free era.

Personally, I quite enjoy the digital, film-free era. It has certainly made sharing photos amongst friends and family a whole lot easier, although I don’t know if it’s made everyone into better photographers. I have a sneaking suspicion that the ubiquitous point-and-shoot digital is used primarily for self-portraits of 17-year-old girls. But that’s beside the point.

The point is that I just decided I wanted to figure out what this world of aperture, shutter-speed and focus are all about and I this lovely SLR was sitting, unused but eager in my cupboard, just waiting to teach me a thing or two. So I found the instruction manual for the Minolta x-700 online (see, who can complain about the digital era), printed out all 63 pages of it, read it though a few times and then set out to see what I could capture on my farm. Of course, the sad thing is that I can’t post those pics, but I did think to take my little digital camera with me as well, and here’s what I saw.

One thing I’ve been slightly obsessed with since being back on the prairies is the size of the sky and the variety of the clouds that inhabit. From towering thunderheads to wispy trails of white, they never cease to fascinate me. Mostly, I just love how they seem to go on forever into the horizon.

I overexposed this shot by accident. Although I kind of like the weathered, washed out feel of it, it’s also fun to mess about with it in Photoshop, as below:

Below the grandness of the prairie sky, there are myriad miniature worlds that are breathtaking to behold in their own way.

Here’s a pesky weed - foxtail - growing up around a rusted gate in our now unused corrals. It may be the bane of a landscapers existence, but when it starts going to seed in the sunshine it starts to look like glimmering little stars, and for that, perhaps, it can be forgiven for wearing out its welcome on our farm.

Dewdrops still linger into the afternoon.

And now - because I miss getting up at 4:00 am to make breakfast for 50 hard-working people - something completely different.

A little throw-back to when I actually was a Bush Cook.

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Not that they’re all that great, but here’s a visual representation of what may have sounded like gibberish to some of you (self-propel what?).

Here’s my dad combining a field of yellow peas. The clouds were heavy with rain and there were a few drops on the windshield, but nothing to hold us up tonight.

Same machine, different angle. My dad won’t be none too impressed with the fact that there’s a nasty little piece of wild oats in the forefront of this picture.

I’m just here to keep him humble.

When the hopper on top of the combine gets full of peas or wheat or canola or whatever we happen to be combining, then we call in the trucks.

This is the grain trailer which came to reside at our farm last year.

It takes a lot of mirrors to drive this thing safely.

Also, a lot of knobs, buttons and levers.

And if you’re going to work up the nerve to learn to drive this thing, this is the woman you want to learn from.

She’s taught a lot of people how to drive truck, and no one’s failed on her yet. I’m hoping I don’t become the first.

If you’re the passenger in the truck while the combine is unloading, you get a nifty perspective on the 30 foot header that’s swooping up the ripe plants and delivering them to the innards of the combine where the chaff and the grain are separated.

If you’re the driver while the combine is unloading, you get to wear an expression of deep concentration.

Go mom!

So, anyway, that’s a quick look at our first full day of harvesting. More updates to follow.

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Hi all (I’m assuming there’s more than one of you)

I suppose it’s about time to update you on my whereabouts. I’ve actually been a “retired” bush cook for about three weeks now. The lovely planters that I had the pleasure of feeding this summer worked some miraculously hard days towards the end of July and our camp was taken down and shipped back to Prince George on July 26. I stumbled into my parents’ place at Three Hills a day later and dropped into my bed like a rock for about three days before I decided to take to the road again, this time tooling through BC’s amazing Okanagan and Shushwap regions. I spent a few glorious days with friends on the beach and in the boat before heading back to Alberta and then taking off for the Rockies with my brother and cousin. It was a great Western Canadian tour, and now I’m back in Three Hills to stay for a little while.

I’ve exchanged my cooking hat for my harvest hand one. For the next six to eight weeks, I’ll be spending time in combines and grain trucks, basically doing my dad’s bidding as we take off about 2,200 acres of crop. I may have to take a turn or two in the kitchen, as well, but my goal is to be out in the field as much as possible. Methinks I need a sabbatical from cooking.

Of course, this means gaining some new skills, as my previous experience on the equipment is fairly limited. We started combining today in a small way. A couple fields of peas were ready to go, so I go my first “lesson” on the self-propel combine. And by lesson, I mean that I learned what a few levers do and then mostly sat there and watched as my dad navigated the gnarly pea vines. Later I did get to do some driving myself, while little brother Lyle showed me the ropes. (Despite the fact that I’m two and a half years older than that kid, I feel like I’m always trying to catch up with him in life, this is summarily unfair.)

Anyway, I am hoping to be a bit more diligent in blogging and especially picture posting in this new phase of my life, so keep yourselves posted.

Cheers,

Bush Cook turned Combine Driver

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The elements. It’s what makes me like this job and hate it sometimes, too. I arrived at our new camp in Slave Lake, Alberta four days ago, to be greeted by swarms of giant, flesh-eating bugs, a heat wave, bedraggled planters, and no meat. Yes, you read it right – no meat. Somehow in the newness of different suppliers there was a miscommunication and none of the meat I ordered and paid for (save 60 lbs of ground beef) made it to camp. Currently, said meat is still sitting in a warehouse some 400 kilometres away and I’ve been improvising and sending our project coordinator to Slave Lake on numerous grocery scrounging trips.

It was kind of a defeating way to start the week. And things took their sweet time improving. As I started out by saying, there are a lot of bugs here – some of them bite, some them buzz incessantly around my head, and all of them seem to have a death wish, because they fly, kamikaze-style, into pots of boiling water, cheese sauce, muffin batter, whipped cream, and any other uncovered container of food. It’s also been high 20s everyday (which probably translates into mid-30s when all the ovens are firing in my kitchen). I’m definitely missing my cold BC spring – as I’ve pointed out to my assistant on more than one occasion, you can always put more clothes on, but there comes a point when you can’t take anymore off. On top of that, I was still getting over sickness and just not feeling the enthusiasm I did when all was new and fresh. I basically dragged myself through Day 1 and 2 before things started to feel less dismal on Day 3. I guess they call it “hump-day” for a reason. And let me tell you, this was one serious, Everest-sized hump. But I’m over it now and all looks to be on track for next shift.

I shall keep you all posted.

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So, I am clearly a negligent blogger and for this I offer a half-hearted apology. The funny thing is, the more proficient I got in the kitchen, and the more spare time I had on my hands, the less I felt like blogging. Perhaps the adventurous sheen has started to wear off my time in the bush and I’m not as keen to let you all know what’s happening with me. But I’ve decided to come out of hibernation to let you know the next steps in my journey.

I actually left my little camp west of Prince George about a week ago and headed east, then west again, and now I’m going back east again and then north. Let me explain.

We (and by we, I mean the hard-working planters, not the slacker cooks) finished off the spring contract on June 16 and loaded our lives into a semi-truick. My assistant Erin and I, packed our junk into my Brown Beauty and headed to Edmonton where I parked the van and then flew to Vancouver to spend some much-needed chillaxing time with friends.

Now, I’m a couple hours from boarding a plane back to Edmonton and I’ll spend a couple more days there before I meet up with the planters, etc in Slave Lake and set up our summer camp site. Despite being sick, this break’s been a good one. I got to see the people I love, Bard on the Beach and my fair share of sunshine (Vancouver weather is really perfect in the summer).

I also loaded some new tunes (Buena Vista Social Club, Arcade Fire, The Shins, and Chopin, to name a few) on my computer, which was pretty much essential after six weeks of exhausting my musical storehouse. Today, I’m trying to figure out a couple of new ordering systems for our Alberta suppliers. It’s always a bit frustrating getting used to a new system, and I’ve done a fair amount of muttering today, but I shall adapt. I shall adapt. I shall adapt.

There. I’ve adapted. I’ll also try to adapt my posting habits and let y’all know what’s goin’ down with me a little more often.

Till then, enjoy summer wherever you are!

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