Word to the wise: When scheduling several people to appear at once, it's a good idea to check in with all of 'em a few times just to make sure everybody's still on track. I had originally scheduled somebody to come out and find the power line to the well (which runs right through the excavation area) to appear either Monday or Tuesday night. I called him in the middle of the day Monday, and I found out that not only was the guy unlikely to make it out before the excavator showed up, he had lost all of my contact information.
Left between a rock and a hard place, I had no other choice but to call somebody else. I got on Digsafe's page of private locating contractors, and started sending out emails and phone calls. Martha at the Verterre Group emailed me back from her phone at 6AM the next morning and was on the phone with me by 8:15. I can't say enough good things about these folks - if you need something done that involves environmental or field services in the northern VT area, get in touch with these folks. They know what they're doing.
Andy Duling showed up at 8 with his souped up baby jogger:
Resemblances to wagons, yard carts, lawnmowers and baby joggers notwithstanding, this is actually a ground penetrating radar unit that can do all sorts of neat stuff.
A few passes across the back yard located the power line that runs to the well.
See?
Yeah, me neither. But apparently Andy does, which is why I kicked down 200 bucks. So he stuck a few flags in the ground to indicate where the power line was, which my excavator guy then immediately cut through with the excavator. Take two hundred dollar bills and throw them in your woodstove.
See the sparks flying? No? Neither did I. The well pump wasn't going when he hit the line, but I suspect nobody would have noticed anyway.
About this time, Paul Daly from Daly Environmental Consulting showed up. He lives in South Royalton, and operates an environmental consulting firm that specializes in oil tank removal. He's another guy that totally knows what he's doing - if you need a guy to pull out a tank in southern VT, he's your guy. He spent a fair amount of time poking around on top of the tank and sniffing the mud that was around it.
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| Smells like teen spirit? |
Here's why:
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| Well, this is the story of a man named Jed... |
A closer look:
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| Black Gold! Texas Tea! |
The tank had obviously been leaking. A hunk of steel left underground for 30+ years will start to suffer. There's no picture here of me grabbing my skull and cussing, but rest assured that this happened. Paul was kind enough to hold me while I cried. After mopping up my tears, he explained Vermont's policy on this stuff. I needed to get a letter from my insurance company stating that they wouldn't cover this kinda thing (and trust me, they won't.) and then the state would cover the rest, minus a $250 deductible. This petroleum cleanup fund is the result of a small tax (about 1½ cents per gallon) on every gallon of petroleum product you buy.
At first, I felt bad about tapping into this fund. My initial thought was wondering why everybody should have to pay for what is really my problem. Then I realized that I'd payed 1.5¢ per gallon for a long time, and that I bought a house with a bad tank, not knowing the implications. Through no real fault of my own (outside of ignorance), I have a minor environmental disaster on my hands. Left to my own devices, I'd have to shoot for the cheapest option rather than the safest, which the state doesn't have to do. It's probably the best solution. In the end, I will pay for it, but instead of paying out now, I've been paying for the last 25 years.
Larry, my excavator, ran the tank down to Paul's trailer, where Paul cut a buncha holes in it and mopped out all the sludge.
MMM... Sludge!
Which he left in a 55 gallon drum that according to him will "Suddenly mysteriously disappear from your dooryard in a couple weeks." By which he really meant "The hazardous waste guys will come get this."
Larry, in the meantime, was busy excavating....
He'd managed to get the foundation exposed all the way to the corner of the house. I jumped into the hole to repair the banged up power line.
I enjoy electrical work, but this was my first time doing underground underwater electrical work - crimping and sealing off stuff with water seeping in and dirt falling on your head makes for an interesting work environment.
The view from my office - six feet below grade, what fun!
Halfway there - crimped and heat shrunk. Playing with fire again...
The finished product - crimped, heat shrunk, double taped, blessed by the pope. Hope it holds up!
Larry, in the meantime, was busily rippin' up the yard on the side of my house. This guy has been driving an excavator for close to 40 years, and knows what he's doing. It was originally my intention to do this myself, but it was only a hair more expensive to have a pro do it. Here's Larry doing "Extreme makeovers - Excavator Edition" on the front hill. Notice the steep angle, the buried crap (including tires, old mattresses, carpet, various and sundry bits of building materials, plastic sidewinder missles and Isis jewlerly) and the tree branch in his face - Larry is hardcore.
I tested my repairs to the well power line and found everything was working fine, so I moved on to the next step. Larry was done at this point, so I moved on to laying some of the pipe. Larry pointed out that the narrow channel cut for the end run of the pipe might collapse in the rain forecasted for the next few days, and it might behoove me to lay out that section now in case the trench collapsed.
I laid in a line to give me a rough idea of what direction I should be heading:
And then I started laying pipe:
Trench warfare:
This kind of drain is described as "drained to daylight", so this is a good sign?
While I was playing plumber, Larry showed up with a big load of crushed stone for the bottom of the perimeter drain...
And this little guy joined me in my hole to help out:
All in all, a very productive day. We're heading in the right direction, despite the fun that lies ahead with the state's petroleum cleanup fund.
