When the AMC can’t use the prolific man-power of their employees to bring food and construction supplies into the mountains and trash and recycling out of the mountains, they use helicopters. My department (Storehouse) and Construction are in charge of helping out with the airlifts which happen in early spring and late fall, the times when the huts open and close for the summer season. Since I didn’t get to New Hampshire till early May, I missed the first airlift, but my boss put me on this final one of the spring so I could learn a little about it in preparation for fall procedures.
As usual, we were out at 7:30AM. I was in charge of making sure the road was clear so that if the copter dropped the giant barrel of poo it carried, it wouldn’t fall on a car with unsuspecting tourists in it trying to find Mount Washington. This job didn’t seem too practical as a barrel falling at that velocity probably will not stop.
I was the only girl and I felt this intensely although the crew of five other men (one pilot, two ground crew guys hooking up supplies and unhooking barrels, and two on top grew loading barrels and unloading supplies) were friendly enough. Apparently the people who had my job in the past found it boring. It was a little, but I spent a lot of time singing loudly to myself and getting stared at by people driving by the road at 50 miles an hour in cars.
In the fall, they said I can graduate to top crew. I guess I did a good job. No poo barrels hit any tourists so the AMC should still make some money this summer.