Snettisham 2010 - 5:  The Ceiling Fell Down
 June 25-27


Double rainbow between the mainland and Grand Island (photo by Chris)

Usually cautious in my weather assessment, I was uncharacteristically optimistic about this trip down, openly suggesting that south of the channel (which was pretty choppy) we'd find calm water; I even pointed out the light line in the water ahead, which often means calmer seas.  We left the harbor around 5:45 with festive beers in hand and, over the course of the next three hours, my optimism and spirits were crushed by endless pounding and sloshing about the 1-3 foot SE seas we encountered over the entire ride down.  It didn't rain very much, but we were all soaked with salt spray, and the seas carried us all the way into Snettisham.  The highlight was probably crossing from Point Arden to Grand Island which featured a bright rainbow near Grave Point and a faint second rainbow over Grand Island (bright enough to see the reverse order of colors).  We also stopped briefly in the lee of Grand Island and passed a couple of seals on a rock offshore which slid in after we passed.  There was one whale in the middle of Stephen's Passage north of the Seal Rocks and another along the south shore of the Port's entrance.  Exhausted, I anchored the boat at the homestead, lit a fire, and we all gathered in the lodge to eat our Subway sandwiches and box wine.  It was immediately cozy (and delicious) and I soon started feeling better.

We went to our cabins relatively early and slept in a bit the next day.  Upon rising, the first thing I did was tackle the water system down to Harbor Seal Cabin on the point.  The week before, I'd purchased 300 feet of polypipe to make the last distance between Hermit Thrush and Harbor Seal, and have some extra for future piping.  100 feet of coiled pipe is pretty easy to handle--300 feet is another story!  Too heavy and awkward to lift, I rolled it down the boardwalk, past Dave's cabin (waking him in the process), up to the outhouse, and then across the freshet gully to my cabin.  It was exhausting work, but possibly not as exhausting as the struggle that ensued.  I cut the tape that bound the coils and found one end of the pipe, tucking it under a log for leverage.  Then I started manhandling the loose, awkward pipe down the mountain, making it about 50 feet before I discovered that the end I'd chosen was hopelessly wrapped through the other coils to the point where I'd just have to start over in order to disentangle them.  I pulled it loose and switched to the other end of the pipe, and was more careful about uncoiling it.  I lugged the coils in clumps down through the devil's club and between the trees and logs until I dumped the remaining coil behind Harbor Seal.  Exhausted, I rested for a few minutes, then went back to the lodge to heat water and gather supplies.  Dave and Chris joined me for the splicing and helped out; first we cut the hose at Harbor Seal and added a valve to the end of it, then joined the other end of that pipe to the existing line at Hermit Thrush.  Since the splicing was going pretty well and the water in the tea kettle was still hot, we backtracked and walked along the water line to Cottonwood, fixing the last leak in that line.  Or so I thought.  Turning the valve on revealed another hole about a foot away.  We decided to leave it and instead hiked up to the splice for the newer line and turned the valve, which made a satisfying gushing sound.  Back at Hermit Thrush we opened its valve and watched a strong jet of water escape (admittedly more impressive because I had the fitting on it that narrowed the width to a garden hose fitting).  The results were just as satisfying at the bottom, though, where air first hissed out dramatically, then burped out until the line was clear and water gushed out continuously.  We were all pretty impressed, and I was happy to have an audience during an inaugural water run.

Lunch was in order, so we broke and ate quesadillas on the porch.  It was a mild overcast day buzzing with hummingbirds (who'd already half drained the feeders I'd filled the night before), but a little squall came in after lunch that drove us inside for mochas and cookies.  After relaxing a bit I returned to the leaky pipe, found an area that a bear had chewed a bit, and cut it out.  Unfortunately, I hadn't been very thorough, and it turns out that the hole in question (or another hole) was actually still about a foot away.  I left it for the moment and returned to the lodge to work on the attic hatch.  I wanted to take advantage of having two guys there to help hold it up while I screwed in the hinges and the latch.  Given the weight of the hatch and the small nails holding in the ceiling panels, though, I wanted to first reinforce the ceiling where the hinges would attach.  I measured the widths between the ceiling joists, then cut two 2x4s to fit.  At the same time, I cut a length of hemlock paneling as wide as the picture window.  This I placed on the bottom of the window and made an instant shelf; even the tongue part of it sticking out looks like an acceptable decoration.  Back at the hatch, I nailed in the two supports and solicited the help of the guys.  I thought it would help to first screw in the piece of the latch that attaches to the ceiling, so I could secure one end of the hatch while working with the hinges.  Chris and Dave held it up while I marked the spot (I was relieved to find that the hatch did, in fact, fit the opening).  Since the latch was centered on the hatch, it attached to a ceiling joist so I didn't have to reinforce that side.  We put the hatch back down and I was just screwing in the first screw when a ceiling panel fell down over the stove. 

Chris had pointed out that it was loose, and I'd decided to tackle it after the hatch was done, but it forced the issue.  An area over the wood stove several boards wide was a problem for Chris and I last summer when we were attaching the ceiling.  Whether the boards were warped, the joists unevenly sized, or for some other reason, the panels weren't making direct contact with the joists.  This made for some unsecure boards.  We muscled through it, hoping that the tongue and groove action would help keep all those boards in place, but the ceiling drooped a bit in places. I'd shaken the lodge earlier that afternoon, which might have pulled them apart enough to let this one fall.  Seeing how little the finish nails made contact with the joists in the surrounding boards, we decided that screwing them in might be the most secure option.  I dug through my box of leftover hardware (ridiculously large and varied) and found some screws that were about the right size (we started with some that were just too long).  The three of use traded off pushing the panels up against the ceiling and screwing them in, tiring over-head work.  Eventually we had them relatively secure and turned our efforts back to the hatch.  First I finished screwing in the latch and we clipped it in, then the boys continued to hold it up while I started screwing in the hinges.  This, at least, was a little more straight-forward, though we still ended up trading off with the screwdriver (using longer screws that I'd purchased rather than the short ones that came with the hinges).  My cordless drill is still broken, so we couldn't drill pilot holes.  Two screws refused to go in all the way and turned out to be badly bent.  We replaced these with shorter screws. The only issue with the hatch is that the latch piece is hinged, so the hatch sags down an inch or so when secured; I might have to get creative to fix that.  Although I did get a bit worn out at the end, I'd had a terrific afternoon doing little errands.

By this time we were all pretty exhausted and took a break.  Eventually, the calm evening, highish tide, and myriad beckoning seals drew us to the river for a kayak.  We drifted downriver with the current and watched seals watching us.  They again proved to be braver than usual, several times passing close by, not just poking their heads up, but swimming for some distance nearby while watching us.  We could hear them breathing and I tried to take videos and photos of them near our boats.  When we neared River Point, I left the boys and headed back to the lodge where I dug out a few more hemlock panels and cut out window shelves for rest of the windows as well as the top piece of trim for the picture window (which had to be ripped, as I didn't want it extending past the wall).  The latter piece looked great, but I didn't have long enough finish nails to secure it.  The other shelves went in nicely, except for the one over the sink which ran into the faucet and will need to be trimmed.  I also had to chisel out the last section of overlapping paneling there which I hadn't been able to reach with jig saw.  By this time the boys had returned, we replaced the fallen ceiling panel, and I made Philly cheese steak sandwiches (Snettisham style) for dinner.  We played gin until late and went to bed.

Rainbow over Stephen's Pasasge	Uncoiling the pipe	Splicing the lines together
Dave admiring the view from the point	Dave screwing in a hatch hinge	Chris and an armada of seals
Harbor seal	Chris and a seal, homestead behind	Dave watching a seal behind him

The next morning I did not sleep in very much.  The cabins had been weighing on my mind.  Already May and June were essentially past, and I still had yet to finish preparing the cabins for staining.  My July was booking up with little time at the homestead and with the chance of sunny weather diminishing every day.  So I rose relatively early and put my new water system to work, first scrubbing Harbor Seal and then Hermit Thrush.  Though I didn't feel like I was doing a terrific job, I was pleased to see all the gray water rinse off the somewhat brighter wood.  I finished up around noon and made more quesadillas for everyone.  Then, while the boys went for a kayak, I started packing up and cleaning, spliced a length of pipe onto the line running between Cottonwood and Mink so it ended up behind Mink (where it hadn't quite reached before), added a valve to that line, and fixed the leak up above Cottonwood.  At that point I was pretty exhausted, so I finished cleaning and packing, made myself a cup of overwintered Russian tea, and drank it on the porch while I watched the boys drifting around with seals.  We rested a bit when they came back, then loaded up and headed out around 4:30.  The day had been partly cloudy and beautiful, so I was worried that we may have to buck a west wind heading up Stephen's Passage.  As it was, we encountered only a tiny chop in Snettisham, and a few ripples toward town.  The calm water was in stark contrast to a few days before and we had a glorious ride home.  I'd wanted to show Dave whales, so Chris and I were looking hard on the way back.  Half way toward the Admiralty shoreline I finally saw a small white billow in the distance and kept my eye on it until it dissipated.  We caught up to him some minutes and a few dive cycles later and had a few nice looks at his white-spotted flukes before heading back toward town.  I think he was the only whale we passed on the entire trip, and he was heading south!  Full of sun and sun chips, we puttered into the harbor around 6:30 and headed home for showers.

New shelf on the picture window	Shelves on the side windows	The hatch
Dave, Chris, and Nigel at lunch	Hummingbird perched nearby	Clouds over Gilbert Bay

Looking up Stephen's Passage between Admiralty and Grand Islands