Far Flung
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
FLOODS
After renting apartments and little houses for so many years, I finally bought my own house in Fall City. The town is located just down river from Snoqualmie Falls. Hence the name, Fall City. My house is across the river from town at the end of a dead-end road and, when I told the people at work where I was moving, they all said, “It floods out there, you know.” Well, this was my first house and, flood or no flood, this was home. I did, of course, have a sizeable commute to work but, once I made it to the freeway, it wasn’t so bad.
After a few beautiful summer months, the rains began. First...just light, warm rain. Then...heavier, colder rain. Rain. The river rose each day until one morning it was no longer contained in its banks. Getting ready for work, I happened to glance out the window and noticed, for the first time, my road was under water. (There are only three houses on my street, all on the same side. On the other side, running the entire three quarters of a mile of the road, is a pond. Well, to me it’s a pond but they actually call it a slough. This baffles me because, to me, a slough should be a body of moving water. In this case, the pond is long and narrow like a river but it only has one end where the water can come and go...the end up by the main road, three quarters of a mile away. At the other end, beyond the end of my dead-end road, it’s straight up into the hills. The pond [or slough] can’t flow that way.) In any case, there was water over the road.
I wasn’t about to give in to a mere flood. I had to get to work so I went about my normal business of showering, ironing and getting cleaned up and dressed. Then, I went outside and walked down the driveway to have a look. Indeed! The road was under a couple of feet of water and brown, muddy water was lapping a few feet up the driveway. So...I went inside and got my umbrella (it was still raining), put on my rubber boots, got my car keys and packed dry shoes, a towel and jacket in a plastic bag and went back out. One of my sons had given me a little, aluminum, flat-bottom boat to use in the slough...I mean, pond, so I loaded the plastic bag in it and dragged it down the driveway to the flooded street. (I was feeling a bit smug and proud to be able to just work right through this little adversity.) I shoved the boat out into the water and, double-checking that I had the car keys in my pocket, stepped aboard, sat down and got to rowing.
The water was flowing across the road into the pond (which was now just a part of the overall, vast sea of river water) and beyond, spreading out across the fields. Rowing was more difficult than I expected,due to the current but I managed. After a good fifteen minutes, I had reached the end of my dead-end road, where it meets up with the main road, which is higher. “There’ll be no flooding problem there,” I suspected. I was right. The main road sat high and dry and there were occasional vehicles scooting right by. I got out of the little boat and pulled it all the way out of the water, onto the pavement. I couldn’t very well just leave it there because, when the water receded, it would just be sitting in the middle of the road. So...I dragged it off to the side and, with great effort, nestled it in the bushes beside the road. I tucked the oars in the bottom of the boat and then changed from boots to shoes and wet jacket to dry. I was wet from perspiration and rain (I had discovered you can’t row a boat and hold an umbrella at the same time) so I towel-dried my face, hair and hands. Then, I combed my hair and straightened myself out as well as I could, ready to face another day at work and pleased beyond description with my own resourcefulness. With a self-satisfied grin, I reached in my pocket and took out my car keys. Then, it came upon me all at once. I stood in shock and horror, hands at my sides, keys dangling, jingling, jangling. My car was still in the driveway...
A few weeks later, at bedtime, it was raining heavily. There was no way I wanted to be caught unprepared again so I went right outside, got in the car and drove it to the end of the road. I parked it in the bushes and walked back home. “This time,” I thought, “I’m ready.”
I slept like a baby. In the morning, I planned to just row to the end of the road where my car was parked (!) and be on my way to work. But the road was dry. Well...not dry but not flooded either. It was still raining but there was no flooding. I had to walk in the rain, umbrella in hand, all the way to my car so I could go to work.
In the evening, coming home, making the turn from the main road to my dead-end road, I had to slam on the brakes to avoid careening headlong into...the water. It had rained all day and the river had flooded while I was gone. I had worked a bit late and it was dark so I didn’t want to take a chance slogging through the muddy water in the dark. I slept in the car.
Morning was bright and dry but the road was still under water. I had to walk/swim to the house, get cleaned up for work and head back out again. It occurred to me that I was actually prepared. I pulled the boat out from behind the shed and dragged it down to the all-too-familiar, brown water. Then I rowed the three quarters of a mile, stashed the boat in the bushes, hopped in the car and headed off to work.
During the day, there was no rain and the road cleared. It was raining lightly as I pulled into my driveway and I felt I had overcome some great obstacle even though I had just spent the previous night sleeping uncomfortably and unsoundly in my car. I had not, after all, missed a day’s work. All in all, it wasn’t so bad living out in the middle of nowhere and working in the city.
Then, it rained all night. Heavily. My road was flooded again but I was not concerned in the least. After all. I had already proven I could overcome nature’s petty insults. I went about my normal business of getting ready for work, put on my rubber boots, threw a towel, dry shoes and jacket in a plastic bag and strode out, confidently. I could see the water sloshing about at the end of the driveway. A cold rain was pelting down on my umbrella...but I was ready. I walked out behind the shed to get the little, flat-bottom boat and stood, dumbfounded at my limitless affinity for stupidity. There was no boat. It was still in the bushes at the other end of the street. On the other side of the floodwaters.
Over the next few weeks, I pondered how to handle this flood issue. I couldn’t really afford to lose a day’s pay every time it rained. As it turns out, there’s incredibly more rainfall where I live than just thirty miles away in the city. There’s even more in the mountains. The flooding in my town is so common that it’s not usually even reported in the news.
I bought another boat. This one, I placed in the bushes at the end of the road. The other one...my little, flat-bottom boat, I left behind the shed. When the next flood oozed by...I would be ready.
The next flood came two weeks later. As it rained all the evening beforehand, I watched television with a self-assured confidence that I had outwitted the elements...finally! Morning came and I did the usual. Dressed for work, loaded another plastic bag and practically skipped across the wet grass to the shed. Yes, there was a boat there. Once again, I dragged the thing from behind the shed, across the lawn, down the driveway and into the waiting, muddy, brown waters. Once again, I rowed the fifteen minutes, battling the cross-current, to the end of the road. All this had become a regular routine but, knowing I now had two boats, it seemed like just a normal commute to work. Well...normal for me.
Sometimes, I think I need mental assistance. When I reached the end of the road where the main road sits high and dry...when I got out of the little, flat-bottom boat, dried myself off, changed from boots to shoes and wet jacket to dry....there was no car...just another boat.
I didn’t really need two boats so I sold the new one and kept the little, flat-bottom one. I have an old pickup truck and it seemed I was missing some key ingredient in the planning department. Less than a week later...it was raining. After dinner, I loaded the boat into the back of the truck. This is not an easy task because I have to actually lift it. This is not quite the same as dragging it around the yard Well...with the boat in the back of the truck and the rain drenching every ounce of my soul, I drove to the end of the road and parked the whole mess in the bushes. Then, I rushed home as the flood water just began to cross the road.
Just drifting off to sleep...just as fantasies meld into unconscious dreams...just as the water level passed the two-foot level on my dead-end road...just then, it hit me. In the morning, I would have no boat.
What a long, long rainy season! All the boat-dragging, lifting and rowing! My back can’t take all that. I thought it would help if I didn’t have to keep dragging the little, flat-bottom boat from around the back of the shed, across the grass, down the driveway and...into the water. I needed something better. I needed a plan...something ingenious. One day at work, at lunchtime, I went to a boat shop in the city and bought a davit. A davit is the contraption that holds a dinghy on the back of a yacht and it can raise and lower the boat as needed with a simple cranking mechanism. When I told the people in the store what I was planning to do, they...well, they laughed...a lot. But! They delivered my davit all the way to Fall City and installed it on the corner of my deck...just the way I wanted it.
I dragged (and carried) the little, flat-bottom boat all the way round and round to the deck which is at the front of the house just twenty-five feet from the road. I hoisted the thing up and let it hang there for all to see...and many people did in amused wonder. It seems a lot of hikers, bicyclists, joggers and horse riders use my street. At the end of the road, there begins a series of miles and miles of trails. It’s a very popular area. Those hikers and such are the ones who all managed to find such humor at seeing my davit mounted to the deck with a little, flat-bottom, aluminum boat hanging from it. They could laugh all they wanted. The next flood, I would be ready! I would have my floating transportation right there and would never have to drag it around again.
In less than a week the waters came again. I got up in the morning and couldn’t see the road for the water. How fortunate for me that my boat hung from the corner of the deck and I wouldn’t have to lug it all over the place. I had left the truck in the bushes at the end of the street and kept the car in the driveway. So, if it all flooded I’d have a boat at the house and a vehicle to drive to work...after some furious rowing. I thought, just maybe I wasn’t so stupid after all. I looked out again and there was definitely water over the road. Time to put the best laid plans to work. I got dressed and loaded my plastic bag in the boat, right out there on the deck. Then, I went down below where the boat hung from the davit and just cranked it down.
I unhooked the straps and ropes holding the davit and there sat my little, flat-bottom boat at the ready, right there on the grass, just twenty-five feet from the road and...twenty feet from the fence. The fence! I have one of those privacy fences made of cedar and almost seven feet tall. The fence stood between me and the boat and the flooded road. I had forgotten about the fence. Well...no worries. I’d been through worse than this.
I dragged the boat down to the base of the stupid fence and the, with monumental effort, managed to lift the bow upward so it stood on its stern, leaning against the wood. Well, I thought it was such an accomplishment doing that much but the next part was absolutely ridiculous. I had to lift from the bottom (the stern of the boat) and push-and-slide it upward. The idea, of course, was to just go over the fence instead of carrying it all the way around. The effort required was the absolute limit of my strength and ability. I was sweating profusely as the boat slowly made its way up. Finally, after reaching the top, I stood with my arms fully extended and held the back of the boat as it sat, balanced on the very top. All I had to do was give it a slight nudge and it would flop on over to the other side. I stood for a moment to catch my breath and then, as I applied a little more pressure, I heard a creaking sound...more like a rumbling, sort-of creaking sound, with a hint of cracking, too. The boat was already beginning to shift its weight away from me but the sound grew and I just couldn’t figure out what it was.
Then, just as I was set to give it the final push, just as I was allowing myself the slightest hint of satisfaction...just then, I realized where the sound was coming from...too late. The boat and the top of the fence fell away from me. Not just the top of the fence but the entire thing gave way. This all seemed to happen in such slow motion. It all fell away in crunching, cracking, cartoon character. When the boat finally landed, there was a loud splat as it hit the water on the other side but that wasn’t all there was to it. The section of fence the boat was on pulled down the adjoining sections on both sides...which pulled the next sections...and the next until the entire front fence line was down...and I watched in horror as, ever so slowly, the corners followed...and took the neighboring sections of each...then the next...and the next...like a symphony of falling dominoes. I frantically and helplessly spun my head from side to side as I watched my entire fence line go down...all the way around...even the back fence. Eleven hundred feet of seven-foot, tall privacy fence...gone.
All of that destruction had played out in such slow motion. It probably took a good five minutes...maybe ten. I was in shock. I turned back toward the road and stepped out on the fallen fence where the boat sat innocently, in no more than two inches of water. That’s all there was on the road...two inches. I couldn’t row that little, flat-bottom boat in two inches of water if I tried. I could, however, drive my car in those two inches. As floods go in my town, this one was a non-event. I left the boat right where it lay and drove the car to work.
Oh, I don’t know where to turn. I thought the boat hanging from the davit was such a great idea. Thinking back, though, when I was standing on the fallen fence, looking at the destruction, I had the distinct feeling like I was standing on a boardwalk. A boardwalk! My mind spun with wild ideas and, that very weekend, I set to work. I have a little tractor that I use to mow the field (when it’s not flooded). Well, I hooked a chain to the back of the tractor and, section-by-section, dragged the entire eleven-hundred-foot length of fence out to the road. I positioned it, beginning at the property line on my side of the street (not the pond side) in a long boardwalk-like sidewalk off to the side of the road. I had to go out and buy more wood to build the remaining twenty-five hundred (or so) feet...so...in the end, I had a boardwalk extending from my house all the way to the main road. I parked my old pickup truck in the bushes at the main-road end and waited. Well...I didn’t just wait. Every day after work, I took a leisurely stroll upon my handiwork, the boardwalk. It was so pleasant!
With early winter setting in, there were fewer floods. Winter is just a threat here, though. It gets colder and colder and more snow than rain falls in the mountains for a while. Then...it warms up, and the next rain melts all the snow. The floods picked up again just a few weeks after I had finished the boardwalk (made out of my fallen fence). My truck was still at the ready and so was I.
On cue, after a good night’s rain, the road was flooded. I could see it from my window but I went out to check. The last time I thought there was a big flood...well...you know, there were but two inches of water on the road. This time, it was the real thing. I rushed through my morning routine and dashed outside, plastic bag with dry shoes, umbrella in hand and an attitude of utter confidence.
I strode proudly along the boardwalk, chest thrust out, haughtily. It was just too easy and I scolded myself for taking so long to come up with such a simple answer. There was no hurry, now. I enjoyed walking on the old fence-turned-boardwalk and seeing the ugly, wretched, muddy water ooze beneath my feet. However...all was not right. I began to lose my balance just a bit. I had to lurch to one side to avoid falling down, altogether. What in the world was going on? With each step, I became more and more wobbly and I wasn’t even half way along to the main road.
I was rising. The fence was rising. Wooden fences float! As the water rose, the fence also rose and was now just one long, long, LONG raft! What to do? I looked ahead and knew there was no way I could make it. I looked back and...and just turned and ran. By the time I reached my end of the boardwalk-turned-three-quarter-of-a-mile raft, all I could do was jump for it. I splashed into foot-deep, gunky water and waded the rest of the way to the house. I turned just in time to see what was once my pride-and-joy boardwalk, float across where the road should be and break apart in the angry waters churning above where the pond should be.
I know. I know! I still had the little, aluminum, flat-bottom boat behind the shed. My truck was still parked in the bushes at the good end of the road but I...I just couldn’t! I went back to bed and missed another day’s work.
posted by Tomas # 9:32 PM 
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