Dempster Diary Update 3

So where were we. Oh yes. The problem with leave, egotism and the bros.

This goes back in time a bit. I had just turned on to a new project after departing Albian Sands with a whimper not a bang...hardly a roll of glory, in my highly opiniated sense of my own worth. Well, that may be pushing it a bit. It was time to go, I was goofing off too much, and if I wasn't careful, I might wait so long that there'd be nothing left for me to go to. Couldn't have that. The alternative might have been to go back to site, and the problem with that, is that I *love* site work, and consequently I stay the hell away from it as much as I can. Another long story I won't get into here: I was, after all discussing vacation time. The thing is, in the EPCM world, you hop from project to project, and give each one your all: it's pedal to the metal from eight o'clock, day one, and there's absolutely no time for messing about. If Management (of your company or the client's) decides that it's called for, Christmas really can be cancelled. So for me to walk on to the new flagship project and grandly announce that less than four months into it I would be bailing for three weeks...well, I wasn't sure that would fly real well. I know guys who practically walk on water who can't do that, and I can barely swim.

Then there was the whole issue, as the time drew close, of the family realizing I really *was* serious (surprise!). But since Nina would just be going back to school; since there was no way Kym could get the time; and since Mark wasn't going on this kind of day-after-day drive at the ripe old age of four, that kind of left me and the brothers. Should the brothers not be able to make it (and I had harboured my doubts since day one, to be perfectly honest, knowing their own commitments and the expense involved in this), then that would leave me doing this alone. Kym absolutely did not like that part of it at all. Not the least was the perception of danger: remote areas of the country, thousands of miles of wilderness (literally), creepy crawlies (two legged and four) and the odd occasionally rambunctiously romantic bear (I guess). The whole idea of me going this alone smacked to many -- not just my own family, but our respective coworkers and friends -- as somewhat egotistical. It was all about me, you see.

Now my own rationale at the beginning was quite simply, that I wanted to travel, to see something of this huge country. Since I cordially detest the normal routine, I wanted to do things (as is my wont quite often) differently. Doing the Yukon and a piece of Alaska, plus the Dempster up to Innuvik, appealed to my mid-life crisis, my sense of adventure such as it is, and the best part is that none of the people I knew had ever done anything like it, so this would be (in our circle at least) totally original. I knew Canadians who hadn't been to the Yukon (let alone Innuvik). And I needed some time to myself too, just a little: I wanted company, sure, but no responsibilities, as such. And so on. As a saddle partner, Nina and Kym would both have been ideal -- I did not need to look as far afield as Toronto or Guyana for companionship. But that, unfortuntely, couldn't work. Neither could Keenan or Curt, and for the same reasons: time was not available. 


But you see, I can come up with all sorts of reasons why this was not a good idea, and why it should be done at some other time, and the thing is, there will never be a good time.  There will always be something else, some other priority.  This was the time, I thought, now and not some other nebulous future: I would glory in taking my family one day, and speak knowledgeably about the conditions because I had done it.  But this time, to cancel out due to some flaws in the grand design, did not recommend itself to me at all.

The flip side was that I'd leave my wife to handle the household for the better part of three weeks; deal with Mark, integrate Shakha into canadian society and school; Madi would, after eight weeks of holidays away from Dad, have to take another three without me. And Mark definitely would not be a happy camper, though it seems to me that he's getting more used to occasional absences: perhaps he understands better, now, that we're always coming back.

So everyone in our circle took some sides and argued and either made genteel gasps of disappointed amazement (how could he!) or more boisterous sounds of approval. My moment in the sun came when Kym's sisters all rallied in a cohesive block around me. Heh heh heh. Me too love that woman family, honestly.

In the end, to my not-that-surprised inconvenience, both Roger and Ray bailed on me. Now Roger I sort of could understand, even half expected his declining. Personal issues, cash issues, all sorts of logistical problems (part of which is that I already live behind God's back and now I intended going further still, and that does not come cheap). But I was hoping Ray could make it, and it was a real disappointment for me when he got promoted again and transferred to downtown TO, which for a young sprout is no mean feat: and in this case he suffered from the same problem I had: when you just get moved to greater responsibility (if not always greater $$$) how can one, without seeming churlish, ask for three weeks off? I guess he couldn't, and didn't, and suddenly the worry was real, and I would be going alone. Crap.

But by the time I found out, too much money and time had already been invested, and the Boys in the Backroom *had* approved my vacation time. After all the effort and time I had put in....well, I begged and pleaded a little, and Kym reluctantly gave her acquiescence, warning me in at least three languages to be very careful and not do anything stupid (like try to take pictures of a moose in rut, or the previously aforementioned romatically inclined bear). I was happy to agree, and from that point on, it was a go.