Another Saturday rose in the southeast. Again it brought a trip to town. Phone call, a raid on the library, laundry, food and lunch. You know the drill. Emil figured we were looking at two half days of work 'til the cabin was buttoned up so we were in no hurry. Couldn't get it done today but tomorrow for sure. For a little added fun we stopped at the hardware and picked up a case of caulking and a couple of guns to apply it.
"Plugging the holes. If we don't, every mouse, bat and bug in Cook County will move in. It's not fun, just necessary. We have to seal every window and door edge, and all the eave joints. Maybe four, five hundred feet of caulk. Like everything we've done it's a skill we'll be really good at about the time we're done. Each day we'll do it for an hour or two 'til it's either done or we're out of caulk."
For a change we picnicked, legs dangling over the side, on the concrete wall guarding the harbor. Had to be careful choosing a seat as the herring gulls had white-washed a fair amount of the wall. Below us in the clear green, rock strewn lake, nothing moved except the water. There's supposed to be fish in Superior. Lots of them. From what I'd seen from our perch and while agate hunting, they must be cannibals. Haven't seen a weed, a bug, plankton or a minnow.
Our lunch was nothing special. Burgers, fries and root beer from the drive-in and a bag of donuts from the bakery. "Bumming it," Emil said. Still, it ate good and our behinds were nicely toasted on the sun-warmed concrete.
This was our last week of work before heading down to the cities for my orientation and registration at the U of M. The U's a big place. Around fifty thousand students with some of the introductory courses numbering over a thousand. It was a conveyor belt to an impersonal meat grinder that'd spit graduates out after chewing them up without even noticing they'd been there. But being a land-grant institution it was inexpensive. As it turned out what Emil was paying me for the summer would cover my books and tuition for all four years. And the U had a reputation as a good school. Just how good was up to you. Nothing personal about it.
Finished the windows on Saturday and started in on the pre-hung doors. Pricy oak doors half-paned with glass and a hint of prairie style. "Didn't really need anything so elaborate but seein' as how I'd pass through them a dozen times a day I figured they should please my eye. There's also a pair of heavy duty combination, screen doors to go with them. Come Monday I'll hang them while you're digging the outhouse hole."
Sunday afternoon, eight weeks less one day from when Emil paced up from Aspen Brook and drove the first stake, we moved our cots, sleeping bags and gear inside. Two men and sixty hours a week may not be able to move mountains but it seems they can button up a cabin. Helped a lot that the weather had been kind.
Emil chose a spot for the outhouse two hundred feet back from the brook and near as far from the well. We began by brushing a six foot wide path. Took everything down to the nubs and raked it clean. Didn't want any eye gougers or booby traps to interrupt an emergency trot. Once the spot was chosen, with an eye to view of course, we cleared a construction site. That's the deal about working in the woods, can't start 'til you've got a work area. It was pushing lunch time before my hole-to-be was staked out.
"The building'll be a six by six, two-holer with a side entrance. That way we can put in a window with a view out without allowing a view in. Not that that matters much. But seeing as how I'm still such a fine specimen of manhood, the ladies will no doubt be drawn up here like hummingbirds to honeysuckle. Should the spirit come upon them, a discreetly placed window will screen their urging. Your job is to dig a two foot by four foot hole as deep as you can. Should you reach a layer of molten rock, stop. It's a little too late in life for me to have to deal with a volcano. Doubt there'll ever be a need to use the seats in tandem but having a second will spread the fill. One hole's all I ever want to dig. Done right it'll last me a lifetime."
After how well the cabin holes had gone I figured this to be a piece of cake. Should be done in an hour or two. Wasn't. But I sure built a fine pile of rock. Started with a shovel but quickly turned to the digging rod and pickaxe. Next, my shirt came off. Chain gang time except there was no one with a rifle and mirrored sunglasses standing watch over me. Couple of years later I took a course in geology and didn't need to be told what glacial till looked, felt and smelled like. What they left out was the sweat and blisters. Thankfully, none of the rocks I dug out was larger than a jagged basketball.
Emil payed a visit to let me know lunch was ready, "Looks like you've been rootin' for truffles Archie. You might want to wash up before soiling my table linen. Good thing I chose this spot, those big rocks'll make fine cornerstones. The way it looks to me, you're removing the rocks at about the same rate the glaciers laid them down. Let's go eat."
Emil and I played a labor duet during the early afternoon hours. Mine, the bass of grunting, pickaxe and shovel. His, a tenor of hammer tap and saw bite. As my hole grew deeper, his platform to cover it expanded. By three I was bottomed out close to armpit deep. Not quite deep enough for a grave though a lot of formerly living things would eventually turn to soil in the cold at my feet. My sunlit head was sweating and my feet were freezing. In the distance Emil was whistling "Sentimental Journey," and drawing closer.
"Let me give you a hand out of there. Damnation, any deeper and we'd be hit from below by bricks falling up from the streets of Shanghai. That should do 'er. Time for you to stop playing in your hole and lend me a hand with my creation."
Seems he'd built a deck that had a slot at one end about the same size as my hole. Talk about lucky. Spent a moment admiring his work then hit the scrap pile for two loads of plywood and two by fours. The rest of our afternoon was spent lining the hole walls.
"The way I see it nature doesn't like holes and bumps. She likes everything smooth and flat. This hole you dug no doubt riles her up enough to want to fill it as fast as possible. By lining the hole, double layer of plywood, we'll slow the crumbling of the walls. Hopefully, your hole will last 'til there's one dug for me. We'll start by measuring and building with this scrap. Be easier to use fresh plywood but since we have the scrap, well, there's no sense throwing good money after bad or some such nonsense."
Spent the next two hours in and out of the hole, fitting, sliding, scraping and securing the liner. Finished by laying down eight corner and side stones, lining up the deck hole with the ground hole and leveled the floor on the stones. Done, Emil trotted off and returned with two chilled Lowenbraus. Cracked the caps, stood back, admired our work and drained the brews. Back at camp Emil asked me if I thought German beer tasted better than American,
"Don't know. I never stopped to taste the first one. Maybe we should try a second so I can find out."
The answer was; different, maybe better but still tasted like beer. We stumbled our way through dinner. Though we had the cabin to cook in, our kitchen remained outdoors. Felt too confining surrounded by wall and ceiling.
We'd set up our cots in a corner surrounded by opened windows. At night the silence of the cabin was stifling. We needed the sounds of night and movement of air to sleep properly. The night drifting though the windows arrived chilled. And that was good. A cold nose made me appreciate warm feet. Also kept my sinuses open and I slept well. The rush of the brook, owls hunting in the dark, a scurry of mice on the roof, now and then the chattering whistle of a loon passing by on its way to any of a dozen small lakes in the area, all were soothing. I'd awake in the dark and listen for maybe a minute, reassured by those sounds that all was right with the world. Then drift away toward the morning.
The six foot long walls of the outhouse went a lot quicker than thirty-two footers. By Tuesday's end they were up and we'd moved into the cabin to assemble the four roof trusses. Having a level surface again proved a joy. Level is good. Made the first truss from two by sixes and used it as a pattern for the remaining four. Wednesday found the rafters up, decking on and shingles laid. Thursday, screened the triangular side eaves for ventilation, installed the three awning windows, hung a homemade door with crescent moon and began nailing up cedar siding and boxing the eaves to match the cabin. Friday finished the siding, built the bench, keyhole sawed two holes, installed toilet seats over them and laid the birch flooring. The flooring, like that which would eventually go in the cabin, came from birch trees grown on Emil's acreage. Emil finished the day by varnishing his way out the door. Inauguration would have to wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment