Ritual Behaviour in TransCanada Pipeline Tribesmen

Normally the offer to accompany Boyfriend into the middle of nowhere to hang around with grubby pipeline dudes would be politely declined. But, this job was in scenic (and possibly romantic) Fernie. And I decided it would be an ethnographic expedition.

So, we threw our stuff in the truck and hit the road. A fat almost-full moon hung in the sky as the blue night spread over the folded earth south of the city. A layer of fog clung to the fields and sloughs, occasionally seeping across the highway.

Usually, when we hit the highway, we listen to CBC’s New Music Canada podcast, enjoying Grant Lawrence’s infectiously (relentlessly?) perky commentary mixed with melodic, folky indie rock. But last night, we just talked. And talked. And talked.

If you’ve met Boyfriend, you know that this is a rare occurrence. Perhaps the full moon had affected his behaviour. I decided to stay vigilant for further macabre happenings. (The only other thing to report was the scuttling of a small, skunk-sized werewolf across the road around Crowsnest Pass.)

We pulled into Fernie at one in the morning, facing only five and a half hours of sleep before we left the work site. I hoped this wouldn’t affect my capacity for objective scientific observation.

After a harrowing but exciting off-road journey through the dust and rock of the mountain wilderness of southern Alberta, we arrived at the ritual site.

I sit now, concealed in a research blind, amid seven dusty pickups, a giant Tonka Truck backhoe, ten swearing hirsute men and miles of open wilderness. The mosquitoes are large enough here to carry me off and make me the human bride of their gargantuan and bloodthirsty leader, but I remain in high spirits.

The only more abundant than the ‘skeets is “fockin” – a word used to describe almost everything in the strangely familiar dialect these pipeliners speak. I wonder what it means?

It occurs to this researcher that this tribe’s language may bear comparison with the Inuit people. The Inuit have, if I recall, 200 words for snow. This population, however, may have 200 meanings for fockin. Further research in this area is needed.

My field observations reveal some interesting aspects of this tribe. Ritual dress appears to be coveralls marked with defiant symbols of virility – reflective yellow tape forming an X on their backs. The higher ranking elders, however, forgo the coverall costume for Budweiser t-shirts and ill-fitting jeans. Some of the elders also have large round bellies, possibly symbols of wealth and prosperity.

The initial phases of this unidentified ritual I am here to observe involves the Tonka backhoe shifting one pile of dirt from one place to another, mere feet away. Much of the ritual also consists of standing, scratching of genitals and referring to members of the cohort as ‘sonsabitches.’ It is still unapparent what the purpose of this complex ritual truly is.

I begin to wish I had assembled a disguise of coveralls, safety goggles, terrible grammar and a hard hat. That way I could penetrate deeper into their ranks unnoticed. As it is, I am not only the sole female within a several mile radius, but the only female wearing yoga pants.

After a designated amount of time, I observe the large Tonka truck maneuver a section of pipe into a trench dug in the dusty earth. In my preparatory background research for this adventure, I came across the colloquial term “laying pipe” which means "to bed a female of the tribe." However, as I observe the laying of pipe by this group of men deep in the wilderness, this researcher firmly believes this is a homoerotic coming-of-age ceremony.

I am thrilled as the purpose of this religious practice becomes clear!

I am fearful for Boyfriend’s role in this practice, but as a devotee of the scientific process, I must remain impersonal. More later...