I was home eight days before I set out again, and I didn’t have firm word that I’d be going until day eight. Remote work, like boat work is kind of fluid. Being flexible is essential. This is why the first thing I do when I get home is to repack my bag to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.
Knowing that this work was likely, I packed similar to how I would for the boat: essentials plus a few creature comforts. I’m heading to a work site, so I decided to invest in an all-weather high-vis jacket. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to buy one. I don’t know why, but walking around in a day-glow yellow jacket with traffic cone orange reflective stripes makes me happy. It’s like being the brightest crayon in the box.
The worksite is in Alberta and the company based in Edmonton. I’m lucky enough to have some extended family there, so I have a place to leave my truck. I drove out the night before I would leave, and arrived at the office before 6:00 AM. We were on the road by 8:00 AM.
Alberta is not unlike Saskatchewan: big skies and grain fields. Harvest is done here and the fields are cropped short, leaving the land to look like an ongoing blonde crew cut.
Fall on the Canadian Prairies is more like Winter 1.0; it’s short, and cold and merely a precursor to what is coming. People become resigned to the idea of winter in the fall. Warmer clothing starts to come out, winter tires are reinstalled, snow shovels are looked upon with disdain.
To my ignorance, many Canadians hate winter. Hockey, cross country skiing, maple syrup popsicles, and other winter norms are really diversions to just get through it.
The same could be said for this lifestyle I seem to live. I don’t go in for the mundane. I’m not independently wealthy, so I have to work. And if I have to work, it might as well be an adventure.