Deep in the Weld Valley, the first forest protest camp in many years is established in the early hours of the morning, with a temporary makeshift kitchen and the all essential shit pit. The dusty road that the camp is set up to block access to, starts to resemble something like a home base for the thirty or so people, who have come together to save the Weld Valley from further logging, or the bridging of the Weld river.

Strung high above the road a web of ropes, knots and do-hickeys, tie up the access gate, while attached to a tree sit, off in the forest. Making it impossible for any cars or machinery to get in through that gate to carry on with road construction, lest down will come hippy, tree sit and all.

As the day wares on and people settle into camp routine, we receive our first visit from one of the Forestry workers from a nearby quarry, who has been watching from afar the collection of cars, tents and people. Figuring that the scene was being set for one of the first Direct Action sites in a long time, heís more than a little interested to see the spectacle of camp and its contraption. After much eye-brow raising and humming and hmming on his behalf, he leaves with a smile and a wave, wondering why and more the point how the contraption got up there and why all the people are there.