Journal #31: After the Rain
by Miles Raymer
In the wake of our battle with the elements and the subsequent rush to finish the roof, things have slowed down here at the building site. There is still much to do, but the mood is more relaxed, the work less suffused with the tension of an imminently hostile sky. While the world dried itself from nearly 3 inches of soaking downpour, we spent some drippy days inside, doing touch-up and moving toward readiness for the final framing inspection.
The morning after we finished the roof, I made my usual Wednesday visit to Tule Fog Farm, and returned home to find the guys putting the finishing touches on our new stairs.
I’m sorry to have missed this project, but hope to learn about stair construction in the future.
We spent Thursday on various jobs such as spot blocking for joists and built-in cabinets, installing hurricane clips on the rafters, framing a doorway for a new storage room, cutting a hole in the old roof for attic access, and putting in dry wall nailers.
I’m now capable of completing many of these tasks on my own with little help beyond initial directions. One job I really enjoyed was building a box to elevate our new wood stove insert. After cutting the pieces a day earlier, Dan asked me to put the box together and cover it with plywood.
Given my previous inexperience with building and handiness in general, it’s hard to express the satisfaction I get from jobs like this. Carpentry plays into that beguiling illusion that if we are careful enough, the world might actually conform to our expectations. And while an observant builder will always be able to spot an opening for improvement, one can usually walk away feeling fulfilled and even empowered, just from constructing something as simple as this box. Though I’m still miles away from any kind of expertise, I’m beginning to comprehend the emotional drive behind good carpentry––that longing for clarity and order Faulkner so wonderfully captured when he described Cash’s obsession with the beveled edges of Addie Bundren’s coffin.
With the inside more or less ready to go, we headed back out to put the finishing touches on the roof and begin working on the new front porch. Last Friday, we finished the porch overhang. We had to cut some new vented blocks, so I set out to get them ready while Matt and Sean worked on the porch header.
Sean explained that while builders used to design roofs to be airtight, a couple decades ago we discovered that an airtight roof will actually trap moisture, leading to rot. Now, we make sure the roof has plenty of ventilation, including at the top ridge. Our existing house was built back in the 80s, so it does not have vented ridges; signs of rot are already visible under some of our overhangs. Fortunately, the roofers are going to install vented ridges on the entire roof when they come to paper and shingle the new roof, which should take care of the problem. Venting is also important for floors, which is why we will eventually cut vents into the siding.
On Monday, I worked an extra day at Tule Fog Farm to cover for Shail, who took a long weekend to go camping with her family. I returned home to discover that the guys had plywooded the roof overhangs and nailed the fascia boards in. They looked great!
On Thursday, I helped Dan spot our placements for the three solar tubes we’re going to put in. Dave, our electrician, generously lent us his laser plumb bob, which made the job really easy.
With this handy tool, all we had to do was snap a line on the floor to make sure the tubes would be lined up properly, and then put the plumb bob at the point along that line that would give us enough room to cut a hole without having to compromise rafters.
Once we found our mark, I put a nail through the roof to show the roofers exactly where the holes need to be cut. Later, Sean went up and spray-painted the nails so the roofers wouldn’t accidentally step on them.
Our last project of the week was to finish the main decking for the front porch tie-in.
While Sean and Matt were working on the porch framing, I settled a score with the hedge where I’d previously injured my hand using the hedge trimmer. With that second safety trigger un-taped, there was no way for me to repeat my foolishness. Now we have a new walkway up to both the front doors.
To make the new porch section as uniform as possible, Sean decided to remove a few more of the old boards than was necessary (seen toward bottom of the above picture). This allowed us to replace a rotting board with a new pressure treated one from which we could hang our joists.
On Friday, we got to work screwing in the redwood planks. Sean showed Matt and I how to use quarter-inch spacers to ensure that each board was equally distant from those adjacent to it, and also how to use a square to keep all our screws in a neat line.
By the end of an unusually hot October afternoon, we’d finished cutting and screwing all the boards.
It looks so good that I’ll probably want to replace the entire deck before too long! But I am happy with this for now, and look forward to learning how to make the railing and steps.
The week ended on an energetic but also somewhat melancholy note. Dan, the oldest and most experienced member of our team, will be going in for knee surgery next week, so Friday was his last day working on the project. He spent his last afternoon installing the doorknobs and locks on our exterior doors, which felt fitting.
Dan has taught me a lot, and not just about building. His tireless work ethic and sense of duty to his clients have been inspirational and very instructive to me. Dan and Sean understand that working on people’s homes carries a weighty moral responsibility, one that should never be taken lightly or abused. They communicate this ethos not just with words, but with careful and precise actions, always striving for the best possible outcome without cutting corners or accepting anything less than excellence in form and function. Working by their side, I can’t help but hold myself to that same standard.
On Tuesday, the guys took me up to Ti Bar for a job pulling roof nails and replacing them with screws. They showed me a workshop that Dan and Sean built a few years back.
This humble workshop is like Dan himself––symmetrical, dependable, detailed in its craftsmanship, and embedded in a vast network of living and inanimate matter. Tucked away in the hills of Northeast Humboldt, travelers on Highway 96 might never guess such striking structures are nearby. But as I’ve come to expect from them, Dan and Sean take the same pride in this building as they would in a house on Main Street. I cannot account for why certain people possess such intrinsic and well-deserved pride, but I can attest to its ability to arrest and also liberate something in me I’ve not felt before, an impression of reality so new and dense that my little brain cannot yet find the words for it. It is a feeling akin to observing a marvelous accident of nature.
This scenic bridge, Matt explained to me, overlooks one of the most pristine water sources in the whole state of California. Gazing into the impossibly clear currents, I believed him. Humboldt is home to so many hidden wonders, most of which I’m embarrassed to say I have no knowledge of. But one of these wonders is better known to me now than I could have imagined just a few short months ago, and his name is Dan Birnie.
Best of luck with your surgery and recovery, Dan. We look forward to seeing you back on your feet again soon!
Miles – We are overwhelmed at your kind words. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Any words of kindness are well deserved. Thanks for reading!
This really is a beautiful testament to the whole team! Best of luck on your recovery, Dan.
Nice job, Miles. There is so much beauty and balance to be found in the physical act of building. You’ve portrayed Dan and Sean here perfectly.
Thanks JoAnn!
[…] relatively easy job, and provided welcome relief from the tediousness of caulking. First, we used the nails that Dan and I put in the roof to mark out out where our holes needed to go. Then I used the Sawzall to cut the holes while Sean […]