A weekend of blessings... - Unbelieveable from our viewpoint. Last week (during our absence), we had severe winds for a couple of days in a row. Based on local weather stations, the pond project was seeing sustained winds around 25 - 30 mph and gusts upwards of 50 mph. The only protection we had on the top roof sections was 30# felt paper. Yeah, I used alot of button cap nails. In fact, last weekend (2 days before the predicted wind party), I knew the gusty forecast and put in a mess of staples along the lower edges of every row of the felt paper. It was my last ditch effort to save what was certain to be a lost cause. Before we left to go back this past Saturday (early) morning, I packed 3 more rolls of felt paper along with another big box of plastic cap nails. I knew we would be doing some repairs. In my mind, I hoped that only one side might be destroyed; the side exposed to the prevailing winds. As we entered the gate and started the trek thru the woods to the pondsite, my stomach started doing flip-flops. When we arrived at the jobsite/pondsite, we were shocked. Nothing...absolutely nothing. That is to say, nothing happened. The entire roof was still black. I unpacked our stuff and went thru the routine of making camp, then headed over to the apt/garage, all the time looking up and muttering to myself "I don't believe it". I just knew that it had to be the other side...the side that got pounded. I walked around and found the same "nothing". Totally black. Ultimately, after we got into production gear and I was able to get up on the roof, it was absolutely unscathed. Not even a rip. Unreal. - So.... We got to work. I pulled a jetline from one gable peak to the other gable peak, tapped in 3 nails in a large right-triangle, and used my favorite Pythagorean theorum to set the first panel on each roof section. Let's rock. - Oh yeah, the next blessing... - So, how are we gonna get those panels up to the roof? I had 3 or 4 contingent plans, most using designs by Rube Goldberg. In the end, it was Donna-ski that stepped up and knocked it outta the park. We stood there (in the 25 degrees and breezy wind) and discussed my crazy options. She finally told me to put up the ladder and get my arse on the roof. Huh? Yeah; one ladder for me and one for her. "And just exactly how do you plan to get them up there?" She told me not to worry about that; just worry about installing them. Ooo boy...I'm a little uneasy...but I gather my stuff and hit the roof. - She carried each one of 78 roof panels, one at a time, up the ladder under her arm. One arm held the panel at the center like a tight rope pole and the other arm held onto the ladder as she climbed. Folks, let me tell ya. It was over the top impressive. Wind? Sho nuff! She would stop, just like a Flying Walenda, and pull the panel tighter until the wind died off enough to continue her climb. At the top, she would spin the panel like a big airplane prop until it was nearly vertical and I could grab it. I should mention that 58 of these panels are just short of 16 feet long. An absolute show of perserverence, strength, and agility. I am one lucky hombre. - - We spent all day Saturday setting panels and got about 1/3 of the roof done. Saturday night was rain. Sunday morning too, but that was OK cuz I needed to spend time wiring the electric service at the meter. The secound half of Sunday was back up to the roof. All day Monday on the roof yielded a nice final result. - - - - - ...and the next blessing This is the one that really counts. It reminds me to never forget that there IS a higher authority that calls the shots. - I have spent many, many hours on that roof. I always talk to myself to review all the rules and methods of production to maintain safety. I work without a net, so focus is critical. The roof slope on top is 5-1/2:12. For those unfamiliar, 12:12 is 45 degrees. Our slope is barely less than 1/2 that. It's not unmanageable for walking, but anything steeper than 6:12 begins to get dicey for walking on. I take great care to make sure my tennies are clean and wiped. I watch how I walk cuz tripping is only done by dead men. There are a couple dozen stupid, tiny mistakes that one can make that would mean virtually nothing on terra firma...but...do it up there and it's 911. Our roof, at the peak, is about 24 feet tall. At the edge (at the shed dormers), I don't remember the exact numbers, but it's around 18 feet tall, give or take. Add in the ground slope and, well, you know. This last day it has been cloudy and windy all day. There is a front that is due in sometime this afternoon. It's late in the day, we're both pretty tired, and I'm at the peak with the ridge cap trim. My squeaky clean tennie bottoms are gripping this painted metal roofing like the human fly and I feel confident...at least for awhile. Within seconds, I look down and can see tiny mist droplet, no bigger than the pointy side of a pin. So few, that I can recall seeing the spaces between them. I decide it's time to call it a day and pack it in. One step and my foot slides...my other foot slides...and I'm going down! Both feet kick out downhill and I get ready for the 16 foot slide followed by the 20 foot fall. Instictively, I reach up and somehow...somehow manage to get a couple of fingers over the top of the ridge piece that is installed with about 1/2 the necessary screws. I stopped, pulled me self up, and sat down on the ridge. My heart is about to blow outta my chest. Dski peers up from the top of ladder and asks what just happened. I excitedly explained. Now it's misting a bit harder and I'm slipping into panic mode. I've gotta negotiate 16 feet of slick roof and still somehow get onto a ladder that is set at the most precarious angle. I test my traction: none. It's like wearing roller skates. Once I leave the peak, I have nothing left to stop me except my shoes. I take off my shoes and socks to see if my bare feet are any help. Nada. I try wiping the roof with my socks, but it doesn't seem to help. Aw, jeesh...the wind is kicking up, the low gray clouds are rolling over the tops of the trees, and I can't think. Dski tries to calm me down, and says she has an idea. She gets a 6 foot straight edge ruler and a clump of paper towels. She climbs to the very top of the ladder and leans up the roof. She pushes the paper towels with the straight edge. I hook one hand over the peak of the roof and reach down with one leg/foot and put a toe on the clump of paper towels. I scooch back up to the peak and prepare my descent. I start by making sure my gym shoes are dry on the bottoms by using the paper towel clump. Then, I put the clump under one foot and use my foot to wipe the panel off and set the other foot onto the dry spot. It sticks pretty good. OK, it's time. I have to let go of the peak and take my chances. Now my heart is racing. If I get one little slip on the way down, I won't stop until I hit gravel. Oddly, this is when the blessing becomes apparent. I duly note that the misting has halted and the breezy, cold winds are helping to dry the areas that I foot-wipe. One foot length at a time, switching the wad of paper towels back and forth between feet, I somehow manange to get to the roof edge. The transition to the ladder was death defying, too, but I finally made it down. Visibly shaken? Yeah...my hands were shaking and I'm sure my face was white as a ghost. - We both said an extra prayer of thanks over dinner when we got home.
