Use of the word delicate to describe a woman can sometimes be flattering or even used to describe desirable traits of a woman. However when it comes to a woman working outdoors, delicate is one of the last words you want to be used to describe your capabilities. Recently I heard the term used to describe a young woman aspiring for a career in the natural resources field. Unfortunately for her a future career might be behind a desk with potential for a window seat with a limited view.
My first thought when I heard the word delicate was, “glad they are not talking about me.” I am a petite woman whose height barely reaches 5’ 2.” Petite is the favored word I use for my daily vertical challenges. Throughout my career working outside the lack of a 6 foot exterior has created some unnecessary challenges, but I like to think that I have made up for this in effort. My exhausting compassion for exercise and strength training has continued to support the muscle needed to complete field work activities for which there have been many opportunities to show weaknesses.
One opportunity in particular I fondly think of is the gently lowering of a heavy boat into the water from the safety of an expansive bridge. The boat along with its precise cargo, an Acoustic Doppler Current Profiler (ADCP), can combined be substantially heavy when dangling from a rope. Gently lowering the boat can be a slow, and slightly painful process, especially when the waters below are very turbid and the opportunity for gentle placement on the water surface is utterly hopeless. To combat the extensive
weight of the ADCP I found that teamwork was a great solution. I would require the assistance for a co-worker to lift the ADCP over the bridge rail and to its position dangling from the rope. Then I would be able to lower the ADCP from the bridge deck down to the water surface without additional assistance. The assistance of a co-worker would be needed again on its ascent where it once again needed to be lifted over the bridge rail. Bridge rails could sometimes be ridiculously tall for my petite frame where I would sometimes position my center of gravity over the bridge rail so that my feet would dangle over the bridge deck allowing myself to gain a good view of the waters below where the ADCP needed to be placed. Other times, with a more manageable bridge rail height, a good strong footing on the bridge deck could be achieved, allowing me to lower the ADCP without putting my body in such a compromising position.
Teamwork has been my solution on numerous occasions in the field where either my petite frame or overall general lack of strength has been challenged. Pounding in fence posts or drilling through concrete are just a couple of examples, but the fondest memories of challenges in the field come from drilling holes in the ice for winter ice measurements. If one has never used an ice auger before you might be quick to judge the simplicity of the two stroke engine, however this beast of a machine can be physically demanding to say the least. To run an ice auger takes a great deal of shoulder, chest, back and general overall body strength. Sure to drill a hole or two through lake ice can be mastered by even the unhealthiest of men, but this cannot be compared to the physical damnation required by an exercise in completing an ice measurement. Requirements for such a measurement require the drilling of 25 to 30 holes through river ice at thicknesses up to 3 feet. River ice is slightly tougher than lake ice since sediments transported in the river can freeze through into the ice causing the ice auger blades to encounter such sediments as gravel, which quickly weaken the spinning blades and requiring the person running the auger to exert even more strength to complete the drilling process. My strategy to teamwork when completing ice measurements is to attempt drilling long enough to give the primary driller a break to regenerate their muscle strength, I say attempt because even my best efforts at running the ice auger are entirely pathetic.
Very few fieldwork experiences were as intimidating to me as working on an ice covered stream. From trickling streams to ice covered rivers the anxiety of working on the ice can be exhausting. Standing on ice, even 3 feet thick, over a flowing river gets my heart racing. This is especially true with larger rivers where the roar of gushing water underneath you cannot be ignored. For safety concerns when walking out on a sizeable moving river we were encourage to tie ourselves to something stable, whether it be a co-worker securely situated on the bank or a thick tree. This was never the actual practice however because preparing the rope or even using it created a large time sink and a general annoyance. Instead we would take turns being the guinea pig or the first one out on the ice. This overwhelmingly became my job. A long standing joke amongst my co-workers was that my best attributes in completing ice measurements was my small frame in that I was the perfect ice strength tester. If the ice cracked under my weight then it would be deemed unsafe and my heavier co-workers would not need to risk their lives to find this out. In fact no one ever bothered tying themselves up to me as the secured unit on the bank. It was the outspoken assumption that if they went in while I was on shore there was little I could do to aid in their survival other than to call in re-enforcements. Although slightly insulting I do tend to agree with their unproven hypothesis.
Working on a trickling stream in ice conditions is still less daunting but still requires the full focus and attention of the body. Open riffles on smalls creeks make measuring discharge easier however sometimes the ice is just thin enough that a fall through the ice into the cold waters is inevitable. A fall of such proportions is usually only into water ankle or even knee deep which is very manageable. The difficulty is that it requires bracing of the body for such a fall so that when it does eventually happen you are balanced and stable, therefore not making a ridiculous spectacle of yourself by falling face first into the icy cold waters or end up flopped on your back upon the rough ice. In situations such as these my skill set was valuable. I would creep out onto the ice one step at a time when I could hear the ice cracking under me I might start to bounce or squat low in order to put additional weight upon the frozen water molecules. If I initially did not fall through I would continue my creep and bounce routine until I eventually did end up in the water. Once grounded on the stream bed I could easily break up the ice with an ice chisel or if thin enough continue to work at it with the weight of my own body. The ice chisel was my tool of choice. Not nearly as effective as a two stroke engine in braking up the frozen tundra but light enough that I could work swiftly at braking up thin ice and move it out of the way enough to complete the work.
Eventually I found some comfort in working on the ice, a skill that came with years of experience and a hardening of the heart or to put it more precisely, a freezing of the soul. Although my feeble attempts at running the ice auger or drilling holes in the ice never improved much overtime I would like to think that my willingness to be the first one on the ice brought at least some comfort to my co-workers who I dare say might have appreciated my petite frame and delicate steps.
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