Beaches of Fort Fireweed

Fox is here. He shows directions to Luke, channels on  radio that cover that area, then takes off , leading. We climb tight tailings ramp roads and then descent into vast, endless open area.

Flat, fresh wind, beach sand as far as eyes can see. Add seagalls and we’re on Vettriano canvass. Radio chat – “fuel truck…fuel truck…” its’ us!

Mika on dozer, pile of grey gravel, she is first. Black Great Northern trucks fly by. On the left, shovel loads eighty nines. Beaches of Fort Firewood. Two dozers, excavator and we leave.

Uptop, we do three more dozers. I asked Luke if smug dozer operator name is Kyle (he looks like Cody, Zach or Kyle) and spot on – he is Kyle.

We roll back, sandhill cranes fly over , maybe ten feet off the ground the in front of us.

Fuel bay

Rita’s torque box converter shows exclaimation point. “Fuck it. Just needs to last one more day.”

Jerry’s unit number in the back is waving like pirate flag, half torn. Oil filters leak. All is normal.

Tucker’s oil still leaking. They did not do it. "I don’t care, you shouldn’t care. One more day."

"John Wade Tucker – when I hear it I am like did I fuck up?”

Crack on radio – anyone in fuel bay - that’s Cindy.

- I can’t understand her, she is Newfie. Island of fucking inbreds. This guy (points to Luke) knows it. You fucked your cousin at family re-union!

-That was once!

-I just hope I won’t spontanesouly combust!

- Hear its crazy there (Tucker hears we were at ORTA tailings this morning). Its Great Northern territory. Terrible. Their drivers don’t give a fuck. Like, our safety record, we don’t have right of way violations. Zero.

Tucker now is not a goofy kid who hustles Luke (because he is squishy), but a pro.

Cindy, at noon. Transmission leaks real bad. “Trainees lied on resume, said they drove trucks before, they never worked in oilfield before. Poor English. 4 days and just could not cut it. Key is to multi-task. Watch others. Everyone gets stuck, that’s ok, but you’re stuck every hour that’s something. Just know blind side rules. In sand, use 1st and 2nd gear first.” Ken comes to check leaking transmission: “She is a runner.”

Rick. I tease him about Mika.

- I thought we were just fucking, I guess we’re dating

-Punished for not reporting, and who filed first, Mika or you.

-No, for ride-along. Someone saw, thought we fool around on company time

-file break-up form

-funny, someone said that to me too. It’s wild there at ORTA.

His smile fades away: I drove dozers and graders, and wanted to drive tow truck. Cade drives tow truck but he took off for vacation with Kira. Lavoie said no – haul truck is haul truck.

Fifty three in service bay. Iceman in coveralls, round tatoo visible on bare chest. Speakers blasting - I am young and free like a lavval tree, party spirit in the air, Cody changes filters on knees in midsection, totes collecting drained fluids, Jun kneeling checking tire pressure 300 should be good, service truck, powercables and air lines extend to haul truck, Travis behind, sleeve tattoos, no hard hat just cap and t-shirt –

- You guys having a party

- Yeah, these fucking 8000s, drained diff, breather here, shit in rear axle, there was so much mud in it.

Shows with hands one foot, tote collecting, Jun does donuts in skidster. I feel so at home.

Evening, shack

Before leaving for Rundle bus, energetic OnlyFans discussion:

-Cindy Barbieri, no leg chick, thirteen dollars a month

- I see these pictures, it’s Instagram premium vs only fans premium

Iceman two pack a day. On cover of men's health. "I don't care if I krout tomorrow, had a good time." Iceman will be thirty day after Christmas, his FHLA is immaculate. A foreman at Northgate, made two hundred. Moved here, just a lead hand on service call outs, maybe 150-160. Have to start over.

We return to Rundle – "Cinammon, thanks for not killing us."

Great Northern pickups parked right in front of entrance, hard for us to park a bus. Nanton’s Erwin yells at us for parking bus way upfront. Trey’s brother.

I walk behind Jun in hall, his shoulders hunked , head down, drags his feet in pressed flips flops. In public Jun is without personality.

At 6:16 pm camp, I hear through door, someone walkin in the hall- "one more."