Note: this is a continuation of the last blog entry: 2 week Crucible
Monday May 21st, 10:00 am.
I arrive at Heirloom Fire HQ to see the crew tearing the trucks apart. The outdoor dock is lined with coolers and soap bubbles are floating in the air. The dish room is overflowing with every bowl and prop we had.
Wednesday we leave for Tennessee so EVERYTHING has to be ready. We have two parties back to back to cook for. This is the most logistically complicated, and furthest Heirloom Fire has traveled to date. Everything needs to be airtight. These are the thoughts that keep echoing in my head.
The day after an event of lifting heavy steel, tending hot fires, engaging with guests and breaking it all down after 12-15 hours is taxing, to put it mildly. My Sundays are spent sleeping. If I had a cave, thats were I’d be. However, when you have an event the next day, or in this case, have only two days instead of five to get everything cleaned, prepped and packed up the body does strange things.
At the end of the season last year the core HQ staff and myself talked about what sort of reactions our bodies have. See, when we are in peak season we are basically going all week. Once you hit mid July sleep isn’t really refreshing anymore. I think the body realizes it need to up its production of adrenaline to get you through, and it seems to work. However, once we hit November, when things start to slow down, its like your body physically slows down but your mind and soul are still driving hard. Some effects I heard were a sense of nervous energy, while I mostly felt a sense of loss. It all evens out, but is interesting to acknowledge.
The shop was abuzz with energy. Food was being delivered from the farms, organized and then packed. The guys would load in the truck mid morning and make their way on a 20 hour Journey to Franklin, Tennessee, whereas the rest of the crew would be making our way down via airplane. Thankfully two extra of our guys came up to the shop to help with the quick turnaround. We worked into the 11th hour on Tuesday, checking, rechecking, and checking again, knowing if anything was forgotten we would not be able to come back.
Wednesday May 23rd, 1:50 am.
I have my alarm clock set to slowly ascending birds to gently awaken me from my slumber - this morning it might as well been a rooster in my ear. I crawled into my truck and away I went to pick up Magdalena and Kathryn.<