The crock is cracked.

(not that it really matters but it is starting to seem like a resounding theme.)

The Spring house had finally drained to a point I could get further into it. After leaning far enough and looking through the crystal clear water I finally found where the entrance to the drain pipe was. I figure that it has been more like 4 years, since anything was done. As that's how old the new house is.

I actually started by removing as many of the brambles as I could, with the clippers I finally brought from Akron. I only got snagged a couple times but the brambles really suffered. Anyway, the drain line was plugged with a large chunk of what appeared to be a growing material, not quite seaweed more like a really active bread mold. I reached in with the shovel and dislodged the furry mass and the water started dropping at a pretty good rate, not as fast as I thought it should, but a lot quicker than I could scoop it with my milk jug scooper. I tried to move as much of the crud from the floor to the drain as I could, to try and keep it from going into the crock. That had two effects, it cleared up the floor pretty well, and plugged the pipe somewhere further down the line! The water started to build up in the spring house yet again. No big problem, now that I knew where the drain was, and found that the water actually comes in the tile above the crock, I started trying to think of something I could use to ream out the drain pipe...

There was a section of black plastic pipe in the machine shed that the previous owner had left and said he didn't want. So I walked back through the snow and wind and got the roll of plastic pipe and used it to clear the drain completely. Now the water flows freely and I got more of the crud cleared out as the water level dropped for the final time. As I was rinsing out the areas behind the blocks supporting the water tank, I shooed out a salamander and a small frog, proof that the water isn't too contaminated, at least that's what I've heard. I think they both jumped into the crock, so I'll have to get them out before I start the pump or it will be messy for the first couple runs. I hate pink water.. Had that experience with some pet frogs my daughter had in an aquarium tank, unfortunately for them, they were small enough to get into the intake on the filter pump, but not smart enough to stop it with a rock, like in "Finding Nemo".

 

The water is flowing in an orderly manner out of the top of the crock, where it is cracked, and across the floor to exit out the white pipe (on the left of the picture) now that it has been cleared out. The water is crystal clear, and seems to have a rather steady flow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At this point I have finally conquered the basics of the spring house everything is as I expect it to be at this point. The walls are cracked and broken, and moving under the pressure of the earth around them. I will add metal and concrete to them this summer, after I clear around it with a backhoe. It seems nearly everything is almost done right. I'm guessing it is a function of trying to do things, and run a farm, and raise kids, and work, all at the same time. My wife thinks I'm too willing to excuse things, but I live in the real world too. Anyway as this is the situation at this point I'm moving on to more productive interests.

 

 

 

Just for kicks though, the crack in the top of this pump, probably means it isn't going to work real well at first. OR probably not at all.

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway, that went so well, I wasn't surprised to find out the water in the real house had stopped. "My toilet didn't flush" , not what you want to hear after it had been about 10 degrees or less out side for the last two days, I was sure the pipes under the house were going to be frozen. So sure, I went into town and bought heat tapes for the drain lines, and prepared to spelunk under the house, to wrap the frozen pipes. When I removed the outside door to the crawl area, it belched a flood of warm air on me that was surprising. As I crawled under to look around, I realized there was no frozen pipe in this area, maybe under the ground outside, but not in here, it was too warm! I tapped the pipe and it was full, clear to the wall, so I went into town to get some drain opener. Since then I have been pouring various "Guaranteed to Work" substances, down various drains, and waiting to see the miracle movement of water into the un compromised drains, HAH, fat freaking chance Simon!

I am really thinking of calling this place Unplumbed Acres and just crapping in the field like all those before me!

So the next morning, after an early morning "Bonsai run" into town, to get three more gallons of concentrated lye to pour down the drains, "Guaranteed to Work , not hurt the pipes, and unclog the drains all at once. And it did nothing but generate some noxious fumes. I finally called a Septic Service, with the hopes that the tank was just full. Wayne said he was in the shop, "Just fixxin stuff" and could be here in an hour, then very knowledgeably he asked, "Are ya backed up Ray?" "Yep, I am. " I replied, trying to keep the smile on my face from sounding through the phone. Actually I wasn't backed up, but the house sure was, and he said,"Then I'll throw the power snake on the truck."

Good idea! Now I wouldn't have thought of that, a septic pump truck with a power snake would make a lot of sense at this point. I was going to need a plumber, if the tank wasn't filled to overflowing, or the pipe frozen somewhere along the way. This seemed to be a stroke of good luck. This guy, picked from the local phone book, seemed competent. Now I don't run into that too much, in general, anywhere, and here comes a guy, that knows what he's doing, and is willing to do it! The shock still hasn't worn off!

Even after he arrived, the fact that he knew his business was evident. I tried to show him where the tank top was, in the depression that held snow, that Jim had shown me. At least I would have bet that's where it was, he walked over shoved a metal rod into the ground and said, "nope" as he walked across the yard, he stuck the probe into the ground and said" here it is, over here." Now I'm not often impressed, but this guy, Wayne, was right. The things were exactly as he anticipated, even down to the reason we were digging through giant rocks, to get to tank that was only buried four years ago. I was sure we were in the wrong place, nobody would put such ridiculously large rocks, over something that might need to be dug up in the future. "They are installers, not repair people, they fill the hole with what's left laying near it. And it's large rocks, that are left close to the hole, and take up a lot of space." Now there is a piece of wisdom, gathered from years of experience, and offered for free. Not even a condemnation of laziness, just a statement of fact, gleaned from years of 'fixing things' after someone else took" the lazy way out."

When we lifted the lid on the tank, the water was within inches of the top. "That's not good", Wayne said as he looked at the water level, "might be your problem." After suctioning out the water, and finding another lid below, he asked for a chain, to try to lift the second lid out. "Well, I have chains, but they are 3 hours away, I'm still moving in. How about I help you lift on that hook you have there?" Fortunately, lifting together, we managed to get the second lid out. There's the real stuff, I thought, as I caught a little passing odor, fortunately the wind was blowing pretty briskly, well fortunate for odor issues anyway. I had dressed for the occasion, so the wind wasn't a problem, but digging, with what's left of my back and all those clothes, soon got to be a chore. The stones we were moving, were so large, we didn't even remove them from the hole, just stood them up on their "ample sides" and worked around them. "Well, that level looks good, I don't think the problem is in here. Did you open the clean out next to the house, yet?"

 

When Wayne had arrived, I was just climbing up the hill from getting my large pipe wrench out of the chicken house, that's where all my tools are now, until I take possession of the garage. (another story entirely) "nope haven't done that yet" as he walked up the yard, he pointed out the pipe wrench I had dropped upon his arrival. "Watch you don't lose that in the snow", he called out, as he headed toward the house to check the clean out . I had a Bernzomatic laying next to the pipe, and as I approached, carrying the wrench, he had pointed out to me, he smiled and said, "That's why the wrench, huh?" Again I was impressed, he began to heat the pipe and remove the cap. I cautioned him that I believed the pipes to be entirely filled to that point, and confessed to the four gallons of lye, I had poured into them, to try to clean them out. "That stuff might work on a sink drain, but nothing larger." He confided,"Thanks for the warning, but I always expect such a situation. Besides, see the bubbles forming around the threads, this thing is ready to blow." So he screwed it back in, and we moved to the tank again.

 

Well, then there is the little problem that it actually turned out to be, the pipe from the house to the tank (septic) is broken, and that is why it plugged up. Great news huh? I'm thinking there is a curse following me around from some distant ancestor. I buy a place with two sources of water and neither one is at present reliable, and the output systems (can't even refer to them as septic, because one is an x-pigpen line) are just as screwed up... Now the theory is that the septic tank installer may have dug an "over large" hole and the pipe broke due to the tank settling, the other is that there might have been a large rock placed on the line, and it,

 

 

 

 

 

(large rock) broke it when it settled. Either way it seems as if it might be an installer error, and as I know who installed it, (see the digger picture on page 2), I think I'll give them a call, and see what kind of warrantee I can expect. If we ever get the second septic system installed.

 

 

 

 

 

Here, you can barely see the lid down in the bottom of the hole, this is the second lid. It is right above the pipe from the house into the tank. When the lid was removed it was evident that the pipe was tilted upward, and as it should have been downward, following "the lay of the land" from the house, it was obvious the pipe was at least badly bowed, creating a point for waste to collect, an unplanned trap. Or, as it turned out, the pipe was broken at some point near the tank. This was shown as the problem, when the water coming from the pipe into the tank, came outside the pipe first, and then showed up inside it, for the rest of the drainage. Just to show what a great time we were having, the large rock in the picture above and the crescent of snow over the lid are both pretty big rocks we had to move or dig around to get to the problem area and find out what was really wrong. Wayne used the suction of the truck to clear the clog, and get the water flowing again, rather than try to start the power auger (snake).

 

So let's recap, I've been here for a month, I've stuck every piece of equipment that has been on the property, up to the axles in mud. I've been without water for a couple days and the sewer has backed up, where I have a sewer, I've repaired the furnace and the water supply for the other house and re roofed half of it, had a gas bottle reinstalled, and contracted for a septic system. In the new house with no problems, I've been without water, for a couple days, and the sewer backed up leading to the discovery of the broken underground pipe to the septic tank. I've removed the perfectly good, four year old carpet, had it replaced, and added two hardwood floors, and a new bathroom, where I removed a perfectly good tub-shower unit, had a custom shower installed and replaced both toilets with "high" units so they are easier to use. I also added a larger sink, better faucet, and a disposal to the kitchen. While all this has been going on I have been clearing out two houses and moving books upon books back and forth, so they can be read completely before deciding whether they are "precious" and need to be kept. Oh, and we joined the local library so we can get more books, which of course, the girls did.

(Here is the link to my real feelings I can't express on the general website)

Chris has been busy also, here's her contribution.

 

Stay tuned for Day 18: Lessons Learned, following Day 17: Addendum (for days are very long on a farm) Day 17: Addendum, with pictures

(muddy bib overalls with taped straps)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(cardboard boxes formerly blocking the access door, gloves and screwdriver)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(access door on right, note the metal frame in the perimeter of the access hole)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sighing in disappointment, with the path back seeming longer every second, I returned to the crawling position and made my way to the exit. Still determined to refuse a second rescue, I went back into the house and called Ray—no answer. I called Duane—no answer. "Hi, Duane. This is Chris again. The water went out about 8:00 so I went out to push the reset button, but I couldn't find a button to push. There's a yellow lever, a blue faucet handle, and an 1/8th inch piece of metal, but no button. If you could just call me back and tell me what to do, I don't mind doing it. Please give me a call back when you can." I waited, still bundled up in the heavy-duty bib overalls and flannel shirt, for almost an hour. Mom and I had plenty of time to discuss our options, we even considered going to a hotel for the night, but it was so much more adventuresome to think of ourselves as pioneer women alone on the frontier, wind whistling outside, no indoor plumbing (or more specifically, no running water indoors, since the plumbing was still in place and workable, but lacked any actual liquid to run through it). We had one bottle of water for drinking and for brushing our teeth, what was the big deal? We determined not to worry Ray with the new developments (or lack thereof) and to stay at home. But it had been an hour, and I was getting hot and uncomfortable, so I took off the gloves and the hat, followed quickly by the flannel. After a few minutes, I un taped the straps and took off the overalls. "Well, I guess no one's going to call us back, so we might as well call it quits for tonight." No sooner had the words been said than the phone rang. It was Ray, not Duane, and the very first thing he asked was, "So is everything still okay?" My resolve swirled quickly down the drain even as my eyes filled with tears, and I found myself spurting out, "No, it's not okay! The water went out again and I put on your overalls and crawled under the house and there's no button to push! No button of any kind whatsoever! And I called Duane but he hasn't called back and I don't want you to have to drive all the way back down here and Mom and I might go to a hotel so don't worry about us and if I knew what button to push I'd just go push it but there's no button, nothing to push at all! I just took off all the spelunking clothes and I don't want to crawl under there again for nothing!" He took a moment to reflect, but I could hear him laughing. Yes, sirree, I could hear the laughter, as well as see Mom's startled face as she heard me contradict all my pioneering plans. Somehow unloading on Ray has a way of making me feel much better almost immediately. I am unsure of the effect it has on poor Ray. (Poor, poor Ray.) He agreed that it was pointless to go cave exploring without new information and hesitantly agreed to stay on schedule and in Akron till the next afternoon. I assured him that we'd either make do or do without and that if things appeared desperate, we'd drive into town and use the library's facilities. Ten minutes later, a confused Duane called back. "Your water went out again? Jim never had a problem with that well. And four hours sounds like enough to have waited for the pump....You went under the house?!" I could detect a note of admiration as well as a touch of astonishment in his voice. (I am very perceptive that way, you know.) Appreciating his appreciation of my endeavors, I tried not to sound accusing as I said, "There was no button to push. Where's the button to reset the pump? You don't have to come over and do it, just tell me what to do and I'll do it ...tomorrow." "Well, it's not really a button. It's the little piece of bent metal. You just push it up a little bit, gently, and listen for the water to start flowing." How in the world someone could describe rotating a piece of metal as pushing a button is beyond me. It is totally beyond me. It is beyond belief even. "Push a button." Ha! Push a button. As if. I thanked him politely. He wished me well, as he shook his head. I could hear it. He was shaking his head. (I am very perceptive. I know these things. He was shaking his head.) I called Ray, told him the proper terminology regarding the repair, and informed him that said repair would take place in the morning, after the air had warmed up a bit, for indeed it was very cold and windy. Audibly shaking his head, he wished me a good night. For some unknown reason, I then added, "And I put that access door back on as best as I could and propped the cement block against it, but I couldn't get it all the way back on." "Oh no!" he exclaimed. "You have to get that on all the way or all the pipes will freeze! You have to go back out and do that! Oh!" groaning now, "that would be worse than not having water. The pipes will burst and we'll have to replace everything!" "Fine," I grumbled. "I'll go back out and lift up the siding and put the stupid door back." This was not as easy as he made it sound. "Go back out and do that." Ha! Hadn't I tried to do that? Hadn't I cleaned cold mud and stones out of the edge of the frame? Hadn't I pushed and shoved that dumb door down into the frame? Hadn't it refused to slide back in? Why, yes, yes it had! And hadn't it been taller than the opening? Why, yes, yes it was. But I'd said I'd do it and I was determined to do it or freeze trying. I put the flannel jacket back on. I put on the hat. I put on the gloves. I got the flashlight and a screwdriver. I told Mom I might be a few minutes. I opened the door. I was met with an arctic blast of wind. I pushed on. I moved the cardboard boxes, again. I knelt on the cold, wet ground, again. I moved the cement block, again. I cleaned out the frame, again. (Do not ask me how more muck got in it. I do not know.) I placed the flashlight strategically on the ground so it would flood the area with light. I shoved the screwdriver under the siding and pried the siding and trim up carefully and gently as I pushed the door down and in. I shoved the screwdriver into the space at the top of the frame, where the door should go and pushed the door down as I lifted the siding and trim carefully. There was a rotating lever on top of the door which was to firmly attach a little protuberance to a slot in the frame after it was fully seated. Ha! There was no way that thing was ever going to be close enough to "slide" into a slot. All it did was add another quarter of an inch to try and get carefully past the trim! Ha! Who designed this stuff anyway? Let him (for I am certain it was a man) come and put this door back in properly. After much determined finessing on my part, and a total lack of cooperation on the part of the door and the frame, I finally managed to get the door flush with the frame, all except the stupid, uncooperative slot thing. It would have to do. I carefully crammed the cement block back against the door, re stacked the insulating cardboard boxes in front of it (hopefully in such a way as to prevent the wind from careening them across the yard, but that's another story), and went back inside. Mom and I prepared for bed with visions of running water dancing in our heads.

Stay tuned for Day 18: Lessons Learned the Hard Way, coming to your in box soon ...Please note the modified title for Day 18...

Man, are we happy out here!

 

The Chores, Fresh Air, Green Acres is for ME.