Pangeans love natural Christmas trees. There’s something special about the fragrance of a freshly cut natural tree wafting through the house. 
That smell, greeting you in the morning, when the house is still dark, tells you immediately that this is Christmas. Unfortunately, some of the
younger Pangeans consider anything shorter than 9 or 10 feet (3 metres for those scoring at home) to be a Christmas ‘shrub’. Granted – you need
a fairly large room with a high enough ceiling to host a tall tree, but if you do have the space and location you are almost compelled to fill it. And after you’ve filled the space one year, it feels a little too much like a failure if you don’t follow through and get a big one the next. And after you’ve done this for two or three years suddenly you are confronted with the fact that it is a Tradition with a capital “T”. Such is the predicament we now find ourselves in: we suffer the curse of the big tree tradition.
Unfortunately, Pangeans are also quite particular. They walk past the Douglas Firs, the Noble Firs, and the Fraser Firs, and keep coming back to the Grand Firs. The tree must have a good shape, but not too bushy, have a single top (no double or multiple tops permitted), and be healthy. No dead spaces or discolouration allowed. Indeed, in the past it was fairly common that the tree hunting adventure took several hours or even a full day. In the early years we were able to find tall trees close to home. Then we were forced to go further and further afield until three years ago when even those locations were cleaned out of the larger trees.
Yes, I know trees do grow and that trees that are small one year would eventually become tall trees a few years later. However, I suspect that the market for larger trees is quite limited and that the annualized return on shorter trees is higher with a better turnover. Thus as the tree farms became more efficient they became better at spacing and timing their trees to match the demand. The few taller trees they did have were also priced by the foot making them cost prohibitive.
So it was that three years ago, after checking out the usual haunts in Chilliwack, we headed up the Columbia Valley. Located in the valley past Cultus Lake on the outskirts of Chilliwack and well up into the mountains, Columbia Valley is Christmas tree paradise. There are several tree farms, but we’ve never made it past the first one: Stewart’s in Lindell Beach (Their address 700 Kosikar Road, Chilliwack, BC). At $35 per tree, any tree, any size, and all baled up, it satisfies the Pangean’s sense of frugality.
As noted above, Pangeans are quite particular about their Christmas trees. And the more Pangeans you have involved in the decision-making process, the longer it takes to reach a consensus on “the” tree. One of the problems with a large tree farm like Stewart’s is that there are so many options. So it was that we parked the truck in the middle of the farm and headed out for the search. The snow from the previous week was still knee deep and slowed the progress, but that didn’t stop the Pangeans heading off into the trees. Unfortunately, what started off as an orderly and organized search in a specific sector soon devolved into a series of seemingly random sorties. With the senior Pangean reminding all to “keep up – remember wolves pick off the stragglers,” the march continued. Several possibles were considered and each had its advocate and sometimes multiple supporters, but eventually they would be rejected. I suppose that is the problem when you give too many people a veto.
Ultimately, a tree was chosen. It was hard to say exactly why a consensus was ultimately reached. Maybe it was indeed ‘the perfect tree’ or maybe it was the fact that our feet and lower legs were getting cold, or maybe it was the fact that the skies had greyed and more snow was threatening, but at some point we did settle on a tree. 
Of course, the most practical member of the Pangean contingent did ask: “Is it too far from the truck?” She also may have said: “You guys do realize you have to drag it out to the road.” But that’s another thing about Pangeans – once they make a decision they cast away all doubts. The rest of us ignored the doubting Thomas and set to cutting it down. Likely more than 8 metres (26′) tall “in the field,” the chosen tree was impressive. And healthy: no discolouration and almost no dead needles. For some reason the health of the specimen had become an overriding consideration this year. And boy, was this tree green!
The top 6 or so metres seemed as much as we’d need so we set to cutting it near waist height. However, even then the trunk’s diameter was almost 20 cm and the cutting process took longer than expected. We could have blamed the problem on pilot error, but instead chose to blame the swede saw provided by the tree farm. It had a blade that, while sharp, was a bit too flexible and refused to cut a straight path. Indeed, the saw seemed to have a mind of its own and wanted to take the longest possible route through the trunk. Even with two hardy Pangeans taking turns on the blade, the cutting process took almost 15 minutes.
Once it was on the ground we stood back to admire our accomplishment. Unfortunately, it was at this point that we began to realize the distance between the truck and the tree. Sawyer’s remorse indeed. And to make matters worse the snow near the tree was especially deep and seemed to have enveloped the branches preventing movement in any direction. Indeed, initial attempts to pull on the branches in the direction of the truck produced no progress at all. Fortunately, the aforesaid most practical member of the group didn’t mention that she’d warned us of this very problem. Pangeans, however, don’t give up easily. Eventually a series of concerted efforts punctuated by heavy breathing did produce results. After another 15 minutes or so we were able to get the tree close enough to the truck to attach a line.
With the snow and the tow strap in place it was easy enough to drag the tree out of the stand and onto the road leading to the tree farm exit. Due to its size (it was about 6 metres or 20 feet at this point), we knew we would not be able to fit it into the back of the truck with the canopy on. However, Stewart’s Tree Farm provides a free baling service. With it baled tight, we were pretty sure that with 3 or 4 strong men we’d be able to get it into the back.
Which, of course, brings us to the baling process. Now to be fair, we did ask if the tree was too big to go through their baler. And we were told by the young man and his 80 year old ‘aunt’ who were operating the baler that they’d run a 26 footer through the machine earlier in the day. They assured us that our 20 footer would be no problem.
Therefore, with the assistance of the young man, we dragged our tree into position at the business end of the baler and the aunt set to attaching the shackle around the trunk. At least she would have but the trunk was too big and the shackle too small. After she’d sourced a larger shackle and wrapped it around the trunk, the young man attached the hook and pull line. With the tree in place and the line attached, the process could begin. The aunt revved the engine and the tree started to move into the mouth of the machine. 
Snap! The swaged fitting on one end of the wire rope shackle proved no match for the resistance of the tree.
In hindsight this would have been a good time to reconsider the whole baling thing. But of course we didn’t. I also suspect that the 80 year old aunt, all weathered skin and determined expression, would not be one to give in so easily. She struggled with the smaller shackle, but soon decided that heavy chains might be the answer. So it was that the trunk was wrapped with both the short wire rope and chain shackles and then those were, in turn, connected with the hook and pulley rig. A larger group had assembled to watch the operation by this time. I believe some were from the house, but most were other tree hunters – both those just arriving and those waiting to have their own tree baled.
The aunt with the steely eyes revved the engine once again and our tree made some progress, and by ‘some progress’ I mean just enough to get the tree completely stuck. Again, in hindsight, this was probably not a good thing as it became increasingly clear that the tree was simply too big to make it through. 
The fact that the little engine strained and began to smoke confirmed that the tree was just too large for the baler’s opening. The aunt eased off on the throttle and as the smoke cleared it was decided that something a little more powerful was required. The young fellow hopped on the small tractor parked nearby and after starting it up proceeded to approach the baler-trailer from several angles. Backing and relocating, then relocating again. All of there efforts proved to be fruitless so the aunt and the young man decided to move the baler-trailer so that the tractor could approach it from the hitch end. Problem solved!
Well, actually no. The tractor was still too far from the shackles so the call went out for more heavy chains. However, just as these arrived one of the Pangeans in the crowd offered the use of the vehicle tow strap and this offer was gladly accepted. Wood blocks were placed in front of the wheels of the trailer and the tow strap bridged the gap between the shackles and the tractor. With the tow strap slack taken up, the process could begin again. The engine revved and the tractor revved but the only movement was that of the tractor’s tires spinning uselessly on the ice. That’s what we need: traction! Soon someone from the house brought out ashes, and then chunks of lumber, and then fir boughs all placed under the wheels of the tractor. After each addition, the tractor strained until its wheels spun, but still no movement.
I recall it was at this point that someone suggested we needed to compress the tree boughs so it will go through the baler. Several hands jumped to the task. There was a chunky young fellow with an impressive afro, a woman from the crowd with pink fuzzy
mittens and a cigarette, a small child that seemed to get lost in the foliage, and even some of the Pangeans. All pushed and squeezed and bounced on the tree in time to the revving of the tractor’s engine, but still no movement.
It was at this moment that the chain saw came out. Initially we thought the aunt had given up and that the tree would be cut out to save the machinery (thoughts of heading back out into the tree farm to find another tree swept through our heads). However, the aunt and the young man on the tractor were made of sterner stuff. They explained that by cutting a few of the boughs at the butt end we’d be able to pull them out and reduce our tree’s girth. Unfortunately, after being cut the boughs were still well and truly stuck.
Several moments passed and options considered. Maybe if we pull it back out the other direction. That will do it! So the tractor was moved around and new blocks placed on both sides of the trailer wheels. The tow strap placed on the green end of the tree and the tractor revved. For a moment or two it looked like nothing was happening, but then a small movement, then a larger one and then it began to move back out of the machine. Free at last! Free at last! Our tree came out and the boughs that had been cut by the chainsaw fell away. The tree was actually still in good shape despite its ordeal.
The question was then raised whether to try again. Granted, it was now somewhat reduced in diameter, but the tree still seemed to dwarf the trailer. I know that the young man running the baler had some doubts and I imagine the other customers probably hoped that they would give up on the effort. However, the 80 year old aunt was having none of that and directed young man to re-attach the shackles to the butt end of the tree. The tow strap was then wound through the shackles and hitched back to the tractor.
Once again the tractor took up the slack and revved and some pushed and compressed the tree while others pulled. The butt was pulled through the mouth of the baler and the aunt stood by on the levers. The little engine on the baler roared and added to the chorus. The boughs entered the maw and the baling string wrapped around. The tree’s progress slowed, but continued, then slowed even more as the bulk of the foliage was squeezed. Then the progress stopped and the crowd held its breath. Those on the tree redoubled their efforts and pushed and pulled and the tree moved slightly, then a little more. It paused momentarily, but then began to inch its way through. When the widest part was through and the result was no longer in doubt a small cheer went up and the spectators clapped.
With the help of a couple of strong men the Pangeans loaded it into their truck and were on their way headed down the highway with 3 or 4 metres of baled Christmas tree sticking out the back of the canopy.
Postscript: The afternoon at the tree farm was followed by even more fun extricating the tree from the truck, hauling it into the front room, attaching the guy lines, and carefully snipping the baling twine. However, that is a story for another day – maybe next year.
From our family to yours have a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year.
P.