Take Three

Last summer, I went back over the pass to have a look at the broom again.  The damage from the 16 gauge from two years prior was apparent.  I was a amazed that it took that much damage and didn't drop many twigs.  I was once again struck by the unique form of this broom- I had to propagate it!

This past winter, I had planned to go up with Galen in late December.  Much to my frustration, those plans fell through.  The snow mobile had been sitting in the shop since March, but the mechanic still hadn't done the work on it.  We rescheduled for January 19th- during the long weekend of Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

Since my job had been destroyed this year, I had a much more flexible schedule.  I was working as a substitute and a tutor, so I was much more able to take off an extra day.  Of course, I had a much more restricted budget because of this...

My uncle, figuring that the mechanic might not get the sled finished in time, asked a friend of a friend to go up in there with me.  It turns out that the friend of a friend was a photographer who is always looking for new winter scenery to shoot.  His name is Don Sewell- you should totally check out his web page.

Don took the picture above- it helps to have a photographer along who knows what he's doing :)

The weekend finally arrived.  Galen had to cancel, but he let me use his snow mobile.  We met the Don and his brother in law out on the highway, and headed up to the pass.  I was a bit nervous about heading into the frozen, drug-trafficker-killing wilderness with two people that I didn't know.  It turned out that they were friendly and easy to talk to, so I needn't have worried.

At several points along the road up, Don stopped to take shots of the creek, snow-covered fir saplings, and odd snow formations.  Eventually, we rounded the mountain and came out on the south-facing slope.  The sun was shining, sparkling through the millions of ice crystals that had grown on the top of the snow.  The whole scene was both blinding and breath-taking.

On the way up, I missed the broom- it is easier to see when you are coming down.  We reached the top of the little pass, which was covered by a small avalanche.  The snowmobile track went right across it, so we kept going to get to a better place to turn around.  As I rode over the avalanche chute, I thought about the dead drug runner again.  It gave me the creeps.

We turned around, and I was able to find the broom easily.  I pulled my sled over to the side of the road, and began to psych myself up for the ugly climb ahead of me.  It took me perhaps a half hour to climb the bank.  I had to use a fallen tree as a handrail of sorts.  When I finally got up to the top of the bank, Don threw me the gun.  He and his brother-in-law left to explore for a bit as I made my way up to the tree.

The snow was very dry and powdery.  In most places, I sank right through it- up to my chest.  Progress was agonizingly slow.  I had to fight the urge to give up, oddly enough.  I had traveled several hundred miles, coordinated elaborate plans with several people to get access to the machine and some people to go up there with me...  but I had forgotten how utterly impossible it was to just get to the bottom of the tree.  It was beyond my abilities.  Too many years working at a desk, and too many evenings of eating pizza instead of going to the gym had taken their toll.  That, and the fact that I wasn't 25 anymore...

I remember thinking at that point that my own sense of defeat was my own worst enemy.  I stopped, rested for a bit, and then pushed onward.  It might take me all day, but I could get to the tree.

Eventually I did.  I shot the broom with a slug from the 12 gauge.  One of the little tops of the broom fell out.  I heard Don shout from below- he said that he should have taken an action shot of it.  The sizable piece of the broom had hung up in the branches of a neighboring white pine- the dead tree that you see to the left of the broom in the picture.  Only the top is dead- the bottom of the tree is very much alive with dense foliage.

I slowly worked my way around the base of the tree, trying to find a way to either shoot out another piece or free up the one I'd already blasted off.  I shot into the broom with buck shot, but it refused to let go of any twigs.  A fine spray of ice crystals erupted out of it with every shot.  I tried my remaining few slugs, but was unsuccessful.

I had Don throw me some more shot gun shells.  I had to work my way back down to the top of the bank, which was not so fun.

I had started to accept defeat when I reached the tree again.  It was just too impossible to get scions from this son of a bitch.  I positioned myself  where I could clearly see the piece that I had shot out earlier.  I proceeded to unload a couple of boxes of shells in a circular pattern around the branch, blasting away all of the branches the held it.  Finally, it came free.

When I got back to the sled, I was utterly spent.  We made our way back to the trucks below.  I was completely soaked with sweat and melting snow.  It was a good thing I was wearing wool.

We reached the trucks and parted ways.

When I got home, I grafted up pieces of the broom. I had planned in advance for this, and I had 30 rootstocks ready to go.  10 were grand fir and 20 of them were subalpine fir.

Now, six months later, only two of them have survived.  Both are on subalpine fir rootstocks.  Neither has started to grow yet- but I think that I can see the buds changing in color.  I hope that means that they are going to break soon.


As I was standing chest-deep in snow on that mountain, it became very clear to me that our limits may not be what we think they are.  Given sufficient motivation- be it plant lust or simple survival in a financial or physical sense- I think that we can go much further than we think we can.  In the snow up there, my greatest obstacle was my own sense of defeat.  Once I overcame the urge to give up (or, more accurately, just decided to tolerate the urge and push forward), I was able to complete a  physical task that seemed impossible.

The last year has been difficult for me in terms of my career.  I was forced out of a job that gave me a sense of purpose and meaning.  The resulting fallout was demoralizing, to put it mildly.  Saddled with a mortgage, I had to struggle to keep myself afloat with my income drastically reduced.

It sounds cheesy, but since that day in January, I've been able to think back on my experience with that tree in the mountains.  Propagating it has proved a formidable task.  Even now, my limited success isn't guaranteed.  Both of those grafts could still die, and I'd be back to square one.

I think that difficult times in life are very much like this quest.  Ridiculous obstacles can stand in your way, and you can feel like calling it quits.  I feel like my job situation has felt much like standing chest-deep in snow.  It isn't fair, it is hard, and I've had repeated setbacks.  But with determination and help from friends and Dad, I have been pushing forward.

My persistence will pay off.  My limits are not what they appear to be.