Here, great monoliths float around low to the ground to meet and stand side by side in rows as one unified monument. A monument to the export of labeled packaging that just so happens to have perishable products inside them.
In this world the Pallet Gods rain down great vengeance and furious anger upon the irreverent servant who inaccurately describes the content of said pallet.
My bivi buddy, The Ranger, insisted on a site that had the properties we pre-approved through strict specifications. A magnificent location in the upper region of tidal influence on the Gamtoos river.
When one of these monoliths topples, every demographic scurries to rectify the pallet lest the prophicised pale horse apocalypse befalls those who disobey. The community chastises the one responsible for damaging a pallet's integrity for such an offence is a cardinal sin. Harsh public humiliations pursue details left asunder.
Every man, woman and bombdog strain under the yoke of grinding whatever grist the mill requires to retard the inevitable decay of a pallet - burning the fat off their souls in the process.
I have come to appreciate these silent giants. They tell stories. Some proudly display the scars of their travels. Others brag pristinely before the long voyage beyond the equator - yet to endure abrasions and knocks the future may or may not afflict them. Some are maimed and tired midway. Lemons in A15C's from the outset slouch at the prospect of the ordeal ahead. Some half finished pallets mold in their delay never seeing the light of day to begin with - never being issued an ID.
The most magnificent of all would be Blueberries in 3.6kg bulk trays.
Seafreight towering majestically over their zippy airfreight counterpart. Both beautiful nonetheless.
Come Blueberry season my job is to go out ahead of the quality team to assess pallets on stock in a coldstore. A defect recon of sorts - I report my findings to the appropriate department involved. They will then prioritize and execute their strategies based on these findings. I inspect every pallet across 5 rooms adding up to roughly 2300 m2 of floor space.
This facility boasts a tempo of 300 tons every 48 hours.
After checking pallet base and labels I cut a few straps to be able to lift the pallet cap and have a gander at the fruit underneath.
Some use a box cutter for this but my preferred tool for the task is a trusty old CRKT BEAR CLAW designed by Russ Kommer for the Alaskan Search and Rescue community. The concave cutting edge, combined with an index finger hole, ensures efficient slicing capability through ropes, slings and straps.
Someone put shame on their family by dishonoring the blade though. They had broken 6mm of the tip clean off. With my limited experience in knife making using the stock removal technique I reshaped it into what is now effectionately referred to as the CAT CLAW.
Cutting pallet straps under tension requires some foresight as to where the loaded article might project. I do not recommend a sprung buckle to the nut in 0 - 3°C + wind. Elroy the Don took one to the eye which is now permanently disfigured.
Around the time the steel tips of my safety boots start burning my toes and the cold from the aluminum ladder cuts through my freezer pants my mind tends to drift toward warmer days.
Like this one time midwinter in the Gamtoos.
My bivi buddy, The Ranger, insisted on a site that had the properties we pre-approved through strict specifications. A magnificent location in the upper region of tidal influence on the Gamtoos river.
We set minimum standards to adhere to and we complied. What we failed to account for was a super-moon that night and consiquently it's tidal affect. A trickle of water down my neck early the morning alerted us to the fact that we had officialy bivouacced below sealevel.
Through our travail we graduated that day, elevaitng our status from Mere Bafoon...
... to Riet Rot!
Thoughts fading back to Pallet Land... I had to use my brain again. A specific pallet required a human. Bowed in obedience before it I fumbled through windblown documents on a clipboard. My peripheral vision had not yet fully recovered when a cuboid hovered in silently from behind.
I got caught and rolled like dough between the 2 pallets.
Spinning inside the vortex a portal opened to the other side. I merged with the pallets at a molecular level. Chromosomes unknown to science bound to my genetic ladder and their spirit flowed within my blood.
I have become Pallet Rat.
I am he.
● m ●
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