Rain Water Systems

Trash Island aka Crack Island aka Ship Of Fools

2024-12-12T14:30:00.000-08:00

" Went to see the captain, strangest I could find

Laid my proposition down, laid it on the line

I won't slave for beggar's pay, likewise gold and jewels

But I would slave to learn the way to sink your ship of fools "-Robert Hunter

We all share space here in San Diego with the homeless, and sometimes it can be overwhelming. You can turn a corner on a city street and find the senses shocked by a sprawling urban camp. The sights and sounds and the abject human suffering seem to be something we should not have to face. It does not need to be shouted at me: these people suffering on the streets should not have to face this kind of suffering. I mean no disrespect. Writing about things is a coping mechanism, like my imagination.

Some of us help where we can. Some of us turn a blind eye, but we all share the environment. Sometimes, the scenes can be appalling. As uncomfortable as it might be for us, the washed and housed, try to imagine yourself under a dirty blanket on a cold sidewalk, too exhausted to feel the cold.

Can you?

One thing I learned through voluntering for some works in Africa, is that you cannot help everybody. You have a certain amount of time and resources. The reality is, somewhere along the line, there is an unofficial and unspoken elimination process where some people get helped and others do not.

One of the other thing I learned is not to boast about having done mission work in Africa because there will always be someone who suggests that there are people here in America who need help more. Almost invariably, when you ask the person what they do to help out here, the answer is, nothing.

All of us are confronted with this problem daily as we live and commute in San Diego. We see the shanty shacks and trash tornados. We see the cities and states throwing what seems like endless money at the problem that only seems to get worse.

Faced with something that seems like it should be unimaginable, my creative nature sometimes tries to cope with this sensory onslaught by imagining that these people are living their best lives somehow.

When I first moved here in 1988, I recall people blaming Reagan and closing mental institutions, but here we are two generations later, and the current solution seems to be to allow these people to live and die on the mean streets.

I have a small business, and during the lean years of The Great Recession, it was hard to keep myself busy full-time, let alone hire good people, so I would turn to those young men standing on a street corner holding a sign that said, " will work for food. " I'd roll up holding both a dollar bill and a business card with a trick question: " Which is more valuable, this dollar bill or a day's work tomorrow? "

Using this method, I'd sort through the lost and unemployables, and give a hand up for a while to actual homeless guys. I learned some valuable lessons along the way . I got a chance to basically interview several of these men, and learned that, like a hot plate or the sharp end of a knife, some things are best left, not picked up.

After a few years, I found myself coping with the seemingly hopeless nature of these tragic people by resorting to gallows humor and my active imagination. It’s hard when you are trying to help someone and it ends up hurting and becoming a toxic trap.

As a young man, I had heard the term, "There but for the grace of God go I. " And, I recall it sticking with me because I didn't understand it, but somehow the words felt solemn. I don't remember the day or how old I was, but I remember when it made sense: when I first encountered an un-housed person.

There comes a point for most of us when we realize that somebody has to pay the rent, that the lights don't pay their own bill, and that the internet is only free for kids.

" The poor folks play for keeps down here; they're the living dead. " Van Halen

This brings me finally to the Tale of Trash Island.

I think most of us recognize the difference between a drunk or crack addict and an unhoused senior citizen. There should not be unhoused senior citizens. It's shameful for us, collectively. The alcoholics hardcore drug addicts, and able-bodied men who seem to choose to lounge about cannot evoke in us the same feelings of " we've got to do something" that we all should feel when we see a person who should be retired in a home somewhere, sitting on a bench with all their worldly possessions in carts and bags. Simply put, it is not humane to allow people to live like this, and the homeless industrial complex that has arisen out of this, with its typical grift, corruption, and lack of effectiveness, demonstrates that for all its talk of compassion and services, the streets of San Diego and the rest of California are ruthless. This tale is one way of coping with this seemingly insurmountable problem. It does not contain a shred of disrespect for the unhoused. Any implied contempt is directed at the state and its well-paid henchmen and women.

So, there I was, piloting my drone and flying camera, killing some time near my home in Santee, where the San Diego River runs through it. There, near the end of the trolly line sits a vast swamp and wetlands, where the rainfall from El Cajon Mountain filters down, This has created both an oasis for nature, and a space for a squalid sub-culture to dwell, because it will always be undeveloped. And, as we San Diegans know, every tree or bush in this town will become a domicile for the vast population of those who are without normal homes, so where you have the crossroads of a trolly termination, a riverbed and nearby big box stores with the open public restrooms, a population will begin to grow.

All pockets of society develop social structures and hierarchies. These homeless camps are genuinely lawless, in the normal sense.

Flying my drone, the first thing that caught my eye was that I had found an island. There, between the Walmart and the Food For Less, close to the pedestrian wood bridge, there is a tall palm tree on an island. As I flew overhead, I saw what appeared to be machinery, but as I got closer, I realized I was looking at the “ most perfect homeless camp ever.” It was on an island, surrounded on all sides by a mote-type water barrier about twenty feet wide. The island had multiple tents, lounge chairs, solar panels, batteries, and a dresser...it was like a little pirate kingdom but where all the treasure was trash.

I flew closer and determined it was currently uninhabited. Over the course of several flights, I was able to deduce their transport system and how the furniture was moved.

Realizing my mouth was open as my jaw had dropped at the scale of the camp, I landed and went to fetch my dog. I thought it was time I had a word with those I could hear and see, the inhabitants of this filthy paradise. After all, this is my neighborhood. My kids walk these trails and will sometimes mention that a person stares at them as they pass by; it's a problem for us all.

Like many of us, I grew up with working-class parents, and eating at restaurants was a rare luxury. For some reason, as a young kid, the grainy black and white films documenting World War II were a subject of interest, and to this day, some of the images are etched into my mind, as vivid as memories. I recall scenes of atrocities and footage of an older man scavenging through a garbage can for any scraps of uneaten food.

I remember thinking that eating from a garbage can was unimaginable. Yet, now I see young men, older women, and homeless vets digging through trash cans, looking for discarded food. Here. In my fucking town. In our age and not grainy relics of people long dead in old footage

My somewhat cynical imagination sees a reality show where the contestants have 15 minutes to gather scraps from the bin. Then, the homeless cooks are judged by celebrities with gleaming teeth. All of this in a flash in my mind at a stop light, waiting for the person in front of me to get off social media long enough to drive a day before.

Now, walking across the footbridge with my dog, I expect to confront these hooligans I hear building their fortress on that dank island at night. I pay exorbitant rent here, after all. How quick my resolve withers.

Across the bridge is the first of the shopping carts.

( from here on in my story, please read any text in italics in a pirate's voice. ) The shopping carts feel something like boundary markers. After the bridge the Walmart parking lot is near. To the left is a flat area where a young couple has made camp. They look sort of clean and out of place on the stained mattress. The girl has weeds in her hair and pretends not to see me.

I, of course, wonder where they do their morning business, as we all must do. I walk past a sign talking about not littering in the watershed, and I know where they go.

It is risky to talk to the homeless, to be honest. Conversely, it’s dangerous to NOT speak to them if they are talking to you ( yes, usually asking for money ).

As I am viewing this dystopian wasteland I come to the sidewalk. There a woman lies, sleeping or dead. I try and imagine the previous night for her, and I shudder. I had spent it shivering under thick blankets. She had a light jacket. I could not ascertain her life status. I felt my mind beginning to seek the coping mechanism of the imagination.

Then, a voice from my left, asking me if I had a light.

He was about early thirties. At first glance he appeared to be on his knees on the sidewalk, next to a wheelchair. As I walked closer, I saw that he was actually on bare stumps. Somehow, he had lost both his legs.

I happen to have a lighter, so I handed it to him, expecting him to light a cigarette. Instead, he began to unroll some tinfoil and set up his lab.

If I was going to stand here, I was going to watch this guy smoke or shoot up.

" Wow, " I said, realizing now what I had inadvertantly become a part of. Maybe it was because he had somehow made me a part of his self destruction. Maybe it was because, in all reality, this guy could not chase me down, but I found myself both annoyed and heartbroken. The annoyed part of me asked him, " What are you doing? " in a stern voice, like I would to a puppy who has just messed the carpet again.

He looked at me, sounding perfectly articulate; " I smoke fentanyl every day. "

He said this in the same monotone voice a young man would use if I asked him the time of day, or directions.

The part of me that was heartbroken said to him, " You know? I don't think this is working out too good for you. Somewhere, somebody cares about you. "

He downloads his story to me in quick snapshots.

" I lost my legs in Iraq. I got whacked on meds. Nobody gives a fuck about me. This is my life. "

We chat for a few minutes more. In my mind, I'm reminding myself that no one person can help everybody. I'm reminding myself that any money I give him will be used for drugs. Then I remember an epiphany I had one day: Its not important what they do with the gift, its important to give. If the gift turns in to a bottle of vodka, then maybe that is what gives that person comfort, and that's okay. The reality may be that some are so far gone that there may be no viable path to a job, housing, or what we consider a good life. Are they doomed? Maybe.

I believe that many of the one hundred thousand-plus humans who die every year in America from drug overdoses should be recounted as homicide victims. Many of them die from fentanyl they did not know they were taking. That's not an accidental overdose as much as it is homicide. The ruthlessness of the streets is met with generous welfare for those who apply, which creates a death loop for the people relying on public assistance, as the system seems designed to encourage dependence.

Part of what this young man said to me, sitting on a sidewalk in front of the Walmart:

They are not the ones accidentally overdosing on fentanyl. That, he said, happens to people buying other drugs laced with the deadly opioid. Guys like me, he said, I'm an expert with fentanyl. I smoke it because it's very economical. It's like buying a case of beer for the price of one bottle of premium microbrew. I'm a chemist.

I asked him if he knew about the island.

" Yeah. Dave lorded over that place. He made a boat, bro. He died. The cops won't clean that place up! The sheriffs don't have a boat. Someday, fire will sweep it clean. "

I told him to keep the lighter.

I walked home with my dog, imagining that tragic, probably doomed young man named Ben taking over the island now that Dave was dead. He would fashion a set of peg legs and find a fake parrot on Trash Island. He'd get himself on Dave's boat somehow, careful not to tip it over because not only can Ben probably not swim, but that water is foul there by the island. I hope he becomes King of that Island, because the twenty bucks I gave him won't go far.

The real King of Trash Isle is Gavin Newsom

Whatever he does with it, I hope it gives him some measure of comfort. I walk away, feeling stupid for thinking I might “ confront “ the inhabitants of the island. My life is so good in comparison, it’s not hard to feel guilty.

Once my coping mechanism retreats and the King of Pirate Island returns to what he was before my stroll, I realize that the only thing I can do is try to organize a cleanup somehow.

I'd instead help Ben, but he does not want it.

One thing I've learned about the long-term unhoused is that they grow to not desire contact with those outside their world. The lawless environment and harsh sleeping conditions represent to them, a sort of freedom.

What contact they have with us “ Normies “ is often our shaming looks or verbal abuse. What contact they have with law enforcement is usually them taking what possessions they have and sending them to the landfill, not protection, not social services.

Maybe in the end, the government uses its imagination to cope too. Maybe , in their minds they are seeing a scenario where these people are happy and content in their shacks and tarps. Perhaps they use their imagination that they themselves would have marketable skills in this world they've created, where senior citizens and disabled veterans are sent to build their forts.

I ask myself, who are the real pirates?

Nearing home, I begin to imagine the ghosts of pirate island. Dave is dead and his plastic forts decay in the sun. I hear the sound of an owl, in my mind, as imagined moonshadows play over the tombstones and graves that must lie on Trash Island.

I think I’m coping well.

Babel Redux

2024-12-08T08:33:00.000-08:00

Great historical artists have attempted to depict what the Tower of Babel might have looked like. If it existed today, it might look like a cell tower.

The current news cycle is not just fast; it's in warp drive, hurling information at us so urgent that the words might become a hyperdrive blur on our screen. It calls for immediate attention and action, a relentless force that demands our engagement.

A reader might find themselves in a reality where genders are fluid and national borders are an outdated notion, or they may find themselves in a reality where every other politician is a Russian asset. The diversity of realities presented by the media adds to the complexity and confusion of the current situation, leaving us in perpetual uncertainty.

The News, with its multitude of conflicting narratives and the cacophony of voices, is the Tower of Babel of our age, a symbol of the fragmentation and confusion in our information landscape.

Time rolls on like a freight train, and even though right now, the station stops along the way seem to be all at a circus, with clowns of misinformation and acrobats of disinformation, the truth is said to be out there.

Like a choose-your-own-adventure story, the News now seems to be from one side of reality or the other, and the reader can pick at whim news articles that cater to their particular predisposition.

Is it possible that a person's politics is predetermined and fundamentally unchangeable, like a trait such as the color of one's skin?

What is the truth? It is becoming more like beauty in that truth seems to be in the eye of the beholder. Who can be blamed for this cacophony of competing information?

Information and its intentional misuse are not only concerning; they are becoming dangerously prevalent. Such manipulation calls for caution and critical thinking, a stark reminder of the power and responsibility we hold as information consumers.

The media has morphed from a purveyor of information into something that resembles a paid spokesperson.

The last thing on this citizen journalist's mind is regulation. Free speech is sacred, and we Yanks are seeing now why our forefathers had the good sense to flee England and come somewhere where it is not a crime to post memes.

An enticing ritual for many Americans is to start the day with coffee and some social media outrage. For many of us, our eyes open, and a hand reaches for the cell phone on the nightstand before so much as a " good morning " is issued to our mates. The algorithms feed us stuff designed to make us feel stressed or mad. We limp through the day with this dark cloud of evil ( or fake ) news hanging over us. Worse is when we turn to our social media platform of choice and disseminate the bad vibes and anger to our friends and followers, usually without thoroughly reading the article we are spreading, like a virus.

The fact is, conflicting headlines and stories can be found within the same publications. It's as if the News doesn't care that one staff member is putting out an article that directly contradicts another staff member's work: " If it bleeds "seems to have become " if it misleads... " because that is what leads.

" When all men spoke one language, some built a high tower as if they would ascend to heaven. "--The Tower of Babel fabel.

It is said that God observed man's unity and confounded their speech so that they could no longer understand each other. This may be a return to the idea that politics is more genetic than rational.

At our new Tower Of Babel ( a cell tower ), one can hear words about the same events but walk away with feelings that reinforce the ideas we started with. The Tower feeds all biases and prejudices. It's like getting a fortune cookie where you know what is printed on the tiny rectangular paper. Still, you open the cookie anyway because somehow it feeds a part of us that needs a constant stream of News and razzle-dazzled by these modern-day high priests of news-babel.

The Tower Bots ( the news anchors and personalities ) will say, for example, that Tulsi Gabbard is either a twenty-year military veteran or a long-time Russian agent. There is no possible way both things can be true. The one consistent hypothesis is that the broadcast information seems tailor-made to provoke outrage.

We are supposed to be either outraged that she is a Russian agent or outraged that such mean-spirited things are being said about her. Whatever the ingredients of this toxic tea are, the taste is becoming more bitter by the day.

How can so many be convinced that we have competing versions of reality? In truth, there can only be one reality, and our collective responsibility is to discern it from the myriad narratives and misinformation that bombard us daily.

The internet and it's vast power hunger data centers has become something resembling a cradle, holding up our civilization.

So much of our society relies on the data exchange of emails and financial transactions, downloads and zoom calls, that it's not hard to imagine the entire fifty two card construction to come tumbling down like a cardboard sidewalk domicile in a stiff Santa Ana wind if there were to be one little hiccup in our internet functionality.

When visualizing our information landscape I keep thinking of The Tower of Babel. The parable says that God decided to sew confusion amongst the Earth by making languages different and confusing so that people couldn't communicate. This is our news landscape today, where a search of any given subject will reveal conflicting results in different narratives.

Somehow, it is become the norm for sources in news stories to become unnamed entities: the articles will contain sentences such as, " four people familiar with the matter say..." as if having multiple anonymous sources gives the assertion some higher level of credibility.

And our society has made something of an altar of this information, paying certain news celebrities as much as $100,000 per day to explain the views and distribute the official positions of the military industrial and pharmaceutical complex. Things politicians say are discussed and dissected by panels of people who might brand themselves as journalists but whom stick to more of a team sport ethic. The news media people seem to have made an altar, or Tower of this cycle of information and disinformation and when one turns to this pillar of information one can get whatever kind of information suits them. It's almost as if this Tower has become a self-fulfilling information machine where people come to it not for news and information but for reinforcement of their existing biases and prejudices.

Surely there cannot be different sets of facts?

Attention has been focused on this Tower of Babel to the point where we are all confused and wondering if we're speaking the same language, or are we hearing the same language,

It comes with mild alarm that the entire of the mainstream journalism network is produced by no more than six corporations in the United States. There was a brief window, where the internet provided citizen journalists a competing voice with the mainstream narrative, but then Bill's passed by politician Consolidated the power and ownership of the media companies, creating a new information Monopoly that suffered a short-term death with the birth of the internet.

The scare availability of old paper copies of the Thomas Brothers maps are painfully noted when the telephones navigation begins to glitch out, and it's telling you to make a U-turn, followed by a U-turn. It's not hard to feel almost stranded if you are unable to get service on your phone and plug in an address and dutifully follow instructions.

Many of the opinions about our society are delivered to us over the internet, and physical newspapers seem to be simultaneously shrinking in size and aligning in direction of spin. What would the world be like if the internet stopped working tomorrow?

An Old Soul

2024-08-05T20:53:00.000-07:00

Penny Kelsch Barlow was a mother and friend.

My family tree has more limbs than most, and Penny was a loved one.

I remember one of the first times I met her: it was at a 4th of July Carnival in probably about 1979 or 80 and and I was at a park in Utah with Penny and some of the other kids, and this is when I was first getting to know her so we didn't really know what to make of each other and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to call her mom, or what exactly the deal was. A divorce makes lives complicated.

I recall being very nervous, because my mom and probably set the stage for it to be awkward. I have a lot of empathy for my mom now but at the time it was difficult.

I remember Penny telling me these words: " I want you to know that I'm your friend, not your boss or mom."

And, that's how it always was.

Now I wasn't always with Penny but I honestly cannot remember her ever saying one cross word or negative thing about anybody.

She made it a point to visit us when she was in Southern California and now more than ever, I remember those times, and I'm really happy she came.

While nobody normally wants to lose their life, those who knew Penny knows that she was looking forward to being with her one true love.

My dad left too soon and when I heard that Penny was hurt bad, and that she was saying " Ed was going to help her get better", I knew in my heart that it was happening. I believe he was there when she crossed over, watching and waiting for her.

While she was not my mother, she was a Super Mom to her brood and had a hand in teaching a great many kids how to be good people.

Her calm demeanor and kind spirit left an impression on me and many others. Her children share her gentle nature. As the oldest of my dad's kids I got to know her longer than the rest, and I feel a real sense off loss.

Everybody loved Penny Kelsch Barlow, and I proud to call her one of my Moms.

What A Long Strange Trip It Is

2024-06-10T17:05:00.000-07:00

The iconic " Steely" towers over the Las Vegas Strip.

The recent death of La Mesa resident Bill Walton coincided with what may be the final run of what remains of The Grateful Dead, and there is no doubt that, if his health had allowed he would have been at every one of The Dead and Companies residency shows at the new Sphere venue in Las Vegas.

He was one of the born-again Deadheads. I noticed that much, if not most of the content in the news stories surrounding his passing included his gushing comments about The Grateful Dead and the impact they had had on his life. It was almost as if his basketball career was second to who he became as one of the curious followers of what the casual fan might have called " The Dead".

I was late to the party. I got to see them play back in 1990, and once again a year later, but I did not become a Deadhead until I saw the current iteration at The Sphere.

Like many, I considered the era to be over when the band's iconic leader Jerry Garcia died. My wife is like Bill Walton was; he would speak of the band and particularly about its leader in something that was mildly fanatical. Indeed, Jerry Garcia was known uncomfortable with his demi-God status in the hippy culture, and it takes some time to figure out why it all got so big, so ongoing, and still vibrant today, almost sixty years after they started their long strange trip.

I think I understand it now, but I had to see it and hear it to get it.

The Dead and Company, as the remainders of the band are now known, recently started a residency at the new Sphere venue, and after seeing their opening night without me my wife insisted that we had to go see, it because, she explained, The Dead and Co. were not just a cover band rehashing out the old favorites, but that like the venue itself, it was something new and amazing. The band was revitalized and alive again somehow. It was important for her that I understood what it was that they meant to her, and that is what it was with Bill Walton. He wanted to tell everybody about it, because for them, what it was had been something profound, something beyond music. Mr. Walton and my wife both seemed to have had life-altering changes because of this culture and the music.

We navigated the curiously packed San Diego Airport and made our way to Sin City. On the approach, you can see The Sphere, and the other past wonders, like the pyramid of The Luxor. Our flight had been delayed and it was a mad scramble to the venue to arrive after they started. We found our seats with empty bellies and immediately it became clear that this venue was as much a part of the show as the band.

The Sphere must be experienced., it cannot be properly described. Like a Deadhead trying to explain the band to someone who had never heard of them, trying to describe The Sphere is like trying to describe a rainbow to a blind person; it feels like the future. There are something like 40 individual speakers per seat and the venue can have some sections receive audio in Chinese, and some in English, because the sound is focused like a laser beam. The scale is massive and incredible visuals and giant screens of the band play at the same time. For a short time, it was hard to judge the band as the visual experience was demanding my attention.

I couldn't help but be impressed by the musicianship of the relatively young John Mayer, and the rest of the new blood in The Dead. He was doing many of the key licks of Jerry Garcia, but taking them a bit further in some ways. His vocals were not trying to sound like Jerry at all, but all the words were there in all the right places.

In short order, I was dancing with the rest of the arena. Back in my day, when the band did their drums and space thing, that was bathroom and beverage time. The band does a drum section of the show, where this giant contraption with dozens of drums and assorted instruments is played by three members of the band. This is when the haptic seats became noticeable. The seats move and/or have speakers in them, because when the drums hit certain notes you can feel it through the chair. The sound seems to be three-dimensional, at times bouncing noticeably off the front, back, and sides and changing direction. It was not like panning a speaker left and right, it was all around you/ Then, the original drummer Mickey Hart did something with an instrument called the beam and triggered light effects that were unlike anything I had ever experienced before. A one-hundred-and-fifty-foot brain appeared on the screen with the nerves pulsating as triggered by whatever it was he was doing. It was incredible! I would pay the ticket price just to see that one aspect again.

We came back for the Friday show with better seats and again on Saturday. Each night the emotional impact built on me. These old favorite songs were new again.

The Grateful Dead is an acquired taste. It took me three decades to acquire it, to become born again Dead. That's how it works for many of us; you have these great old songs, and because you grew up hearing them on the radio, memories of key life events become associated with the songs, so when you get to experience it again, it can be that the realization that the songs are timestamps of moments in your life, it hits deep.

{ Extra Content?}

I wanted to better understand this hippy culture and the way that it did not seem to be fleeting because I have known people who are like Bill Walton was; not just a fan, but more of a disciple. It was not enough for folks like Bill Walton to attend shows put on by the band, they were prone to something that felt like the proselytizing of a religious zealot, where they had to tell everybody how profound the experience was and convince them that they had to come along. They would declare things like, " You got to get on the bus, man!" and look at you with a big smile hoping you'd say yes.

For many, including myself, it was like trying to describe a rainbow to a blind person.

My significant other is one of these acolytes of the band, and in particular, the late guitarist Jerry Garcia. She kept showing me videos of The Sphere in Las Vegas, and there seemed to be a buzz building in the online chatter groups that the venue was a must-see. ( end extra? Content)

"I am the human being that I am today because of the Grateful Dead": Bill Walton attended at least 859 shows

I had a friend who was one of the more hardcore Dead fanatics back in the day. He insisted that this was something I had to see. " A band beyond description." He bought me tickets to a set of weekend shows in a college field called Cal State Dominguez Hills. He proudly declared these his first Miracles. I had no idea what he meant, but could not resist a free concert, plus, he was very sincere about the band, in an almost sentimental way, sharing it with me seemed important to him, so on May 5th, 1990 I attended my first Grateful Dead concert with my best friend at the time, a drummer named Steve Harris.

I was into progressive rock; polished bands delivering tight, note-for-note performances of often complex music. It was extremely hot. We were sitting fairly close to the stage on the grass. I remember a lady in front of us said, " I wish I knew somebody who was at their first show," and my buddy quickly spoke up that it was mine.

" Here," she said, handing me a tiny square of colored paper, about the size of a tic taco, " eat this."

I looked at Steve for assurance that I'd be alright, and she gave us both a 16-hour psychedelic ride. I had never experienced LSD before, and after about one hour the situation became almost overwhelming. The band strolled out onto the stage well before the gift she had given had kicked in and proceeded to take about five minutes tuning and making various disorganized sounds from their instruments, which was not something I had ever seen before. And when they started, they kind of fell into the song, the vocals kind of...sloppy seeming. The crowd seemed to approve, but I wasn't getting it. I didn't hear any of the songs from them I had heard on the radio. At one point they took a break and the drummers played what seemed like a long section with drums only before the rest of the band came out. What followed was the strangest thing I had ever seen musicians do. It was like they were intentionally playing bad and making discordant sounds that did not seem to link together in any discernable way.

It sounded, in my altered state, weird and almost...ominous. My buddy Steve leaned over to me and said, " Space."

I remember feeling almost annoyed because there was so much hype going on about how good these guys were. Finally, they started a song the crowd seemed to recognize, and it was like the whole audience exhaled at once and relaxed in unison, this guy who looked more like a grandfather than a Rockstar started to sing something about needing a miracle every day. Steve explained that a Miracle wasn't Just a free concert ticket, it was a gift.

We eventually had to leave the venue, but were in no condition to drive. Steve played his current favorite on the cassette player in his car, a slower number called " Box of Rain " while we waited. He explained that the song was about the bass player's father dying of cancer. I remember still not getting it, Saying something like they sounded like a low-budget CSN and Young with passable but loose harmonies.

Eventually, my friend died of cancer. When I hear the song Box of Rain now I am taken back to the good times we shared before the sickness blossomed in him like a poison flower, and invariably I will weep.

On the last night of the three shows people were doing the exit shuffle, and at one point some escalators brought people up and down from the four levels of the long-term up and escalators face each other, and on each one other last show for us, the people cheered each other as our eyes met. I doubt The Sphere designer intended this, and maybe only hippies would bring that true general love and goodwill for their fellow humans that was shown that night when each escalade became a hippie conveyor belt with people cheering not the band this time, but for each other.

They Love Each other and Lord, you can see that it's true.

The Sphere is a must-see attraction in Las Vegas. Even if you think you hate The Grateful Dead, you should try to see a show and take in the history that is displayed at the casino adjacent to the music venue. If you want to see the people who are devoted followers of the band and know what they are about, you go to a thing called Shakedown Street. That's where artists who make the tee shirts like Bill Walton wore, and a great many other creative things congregate, this time with the facilitation of the city and casinos. You can ask them what it was about the band, and for many, they will just say, " They are a band beyond description." Others will articulate it. They might explain that for many of them, the music of the Grateful Dead and the community that it created was as close to a religious experience for them as they ever got. Jerry Garcia was the reluctant High Priest. He was never reluctant to perform music, but he saw himself as a working man, not somebody to make a demi-God out of.

Back home, I sought out the local Dead cover band scene. There are around a dozen bands In San Diego that play most Grateful Dead music, and no less than 1,800 bands nationwide with at least six of them being full-time touring acts capable of selling thousands of concert tickets.

One of the San Diego bands has played Winston's bar in Ocean Beach every Monday night for over thirty years, and it's usually packed with an enthusiastic crowd. They are called Electric Waste Band. The other prominent band is called Easy Wind, with a relatively new band called Diego Dead bringing a lot of energy, the scene around all things related to The Grateful Dead seems bigger still than any other band. There is no other band that has six different cover bands playing its music exclusively every single weekend, in just one town.

The long strange trips seem like they will be going on for a while. The Dead and Co call their run at The Sphere " Dead Forever " and at least in our culture, I cannot imagine anything that will surpass the love and long-term devotion the fans of the band share for the music and each other.

I get it now.

Wait

2024-05-10T16:51:00.000-07:00

I knew something had to change.

I have spent the first half of this year on an almost absurd winning streak. Business is booming. My marriage has recovered from my being unfaithful; my endeavors seem blessed in every way. I was unfaithful, but my mistress was alcohol. I was so far removed from that mentality that I rarely had a thought about the bottle anymore, let alone had a craving.

There was a stern, cynical voice in the back of my thoughts. It took in all this success. It noted my freedom from alcohol, and it seemed to say to me, "You just wait. "

It got me thinking about hard times in my life and how, ultimately, the only answer was to wait it out. Eventually, the hard times phase out, and the pain goes away. Time heals all wounds, as they say.

Eventually, you get to a place where the hard times are a more distant memory, and you can say things to others whom you see struggling, such as, "It takes a little pain to punctuate the beauty in life, else it would get boring. "Or that old line, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger. "

Better advice would be to wait it out because life can't be all a shit sandwich all the time, can it? Surely, if you don't give up and keep sucking in the wind and making turds every day, then, eventually, that which is making things hard will go away and leave you to your happy times and good friends, right?

Right.

In January of 2024, I began to notice changes in my body.

It was easy to dismiss it, to deny its reality. But I could wait no longer and took myself fearfully to the doctor.

Tests were ordered, and a CAT scan showed an abnormality in my bladder.

The doctor called me and informed me that the wait was over. I now knew what the next hard time would be like. "I hate to rain on your parade, "he said. I know you said you don't have time for lunch, but you have to make time to come in right away for camera work. "

I know two things about doctors: it's terrible if they are urgent about anything. And, if they say something will be "slightly uncomfortable, "it will be torture.

The discomfort was much as I expected, but it was bearable after the camera was inserted and the doctor pumped my bladder full of water to expand it for viewing.

The image on the screen looked out of place.

It had the texture of a wart and stood in stark contrast to the rest of my bladder, which I was viewing on the screen next to the examination table.

"There it is, "the doctor said.

He then took me on a quick tour of that part of the inside of my body. There were bubbles and a slit that he said was the portal to my kidneys. He showed me the healthy flesh. It reminded me of when I was a kid and used a flashlight up against my cheek with my face close to the mirror and my mouth open. You can see the veins and muscles through your skin. It was like that: the walls of my bladder looked the same until the camera focused in on the evil-looking interloper.

It was like a wart. It protruded from the wall of my bladder, popping in to view on the screen in high-definition horror, like a maniacal jack-in-the-box. Underneath it was a spot that looked like a raw wound. That must be where the blood was coming from.

I blurted out the obvious question.

"Is it cancer? "

The doctor smiled and said confidently, "I can't tell...but most likely! Either way, I'm going to cut it out. "

* * *

Just like that, I am in line for surgery. He explains that they cannot diagnose or use any of the scary terms like "stage___ "until they do the surgery. They cannot see if it is just the surface or growing into the wall; what they can see is that it is close to my kidneys, and that is less than optimal.

Like a choose your chapter' book where the story unfolds in different ways depending on which part of the book you select ( or have selected for you ), he describes the various scenarios that might play out. My choices are a quick surgery followed by regular camera work because it is likely to return, a long surgery where they have to put a stint in my kidney, to the Grand Voyage of cancer, the dread metastatized death march, where it already spread through your bones and such. The odds are low, but so are the odds of getting bladder cancer at 55.

Such a thing strips away the many layers of denial that your mind erects like the bulwarks of a fortress. It is easy to wish away and convince yourself there is no problem.

I walked out of the office in what felt like slow motion. My legs felt heavy. My internal voice was stern and declarative: I have cancer.

This unleashes a torrent of emotions. Is disbelief an emotion? Is shock? They are loud and present. Also, life flashes before my eyes—not my own, but my children's. Will I really not be able to guide them? Will I know my grandchildren? All drama aside, the fact is what I have would be fatal within two years if untreated.

All of the facts and statistics, the five-year survival rates are at my fingertips, thanks to the internets. The odds of the disease reoccurring are high. So, this is my new reality. I will most certainly die of cancer, and much sooner than I expected.

I have a man cave. Well, it's really more of a storage unit. But it is my space where I store my things. One side of my cave is all of our Christmas decorations. The other side is music and climbing gear, my tents and misc. Tools. There is a shelf where I store gifts I have started to box for my siblings in my storage. I come from an absurdly large family. It's a story unto itself. I am the oldest of my father's kids, and boy, did he have a lot of kids. He had so many kids he apparently ran out of name ideas, and I have a younger brother with the same first name.

I know it's rather morbid, but as I am the oldest, I had the idea to make something special for each of them, as I'm likely the first to check out. I couldn't give one a pinball machine and the other a Tiffany Clock. I wanted it to be artistic, as I've always believed that works of art absorb some of the life energy of the artist. I gave them part of myself by giving them a piece of my art. Some I do not know. It's always been a source of distant pain in my heart that I could be at a grocery store checking out, and the clerk could be one of my younger siblings, and we would not know each other.

I decided to use the main thing I'd used to get sober and survive the boredom of mindless COVID lockdowns as my gift to them all. I started building each of them a small model airplane. They would be as detailed and involved as you could imagine, and each one could take a month or two to build.

In my space, I looked at those Christmas lights and the paltry two gifts I'd managed to box, and it hit me.

I looked at the Christmas lights, wondering if I would install them this Christmas, not because they are annoying. The idea of building another twenty-nine models for my siblings ( yes, I have that many siblings ) suddenly seemed an unlikely proposition. I have them all stacked up and ready to go—a stash, as it is known.

Now the thought was to boxing them and selling them, while I still could, because there is no possible way, my own rather terrified internal voice calmly pointed out, I would live to build them all.

Suddenly, that feeling is crushing.

All of these things, these toys...my guitars and sporting goods, my books and toy airplanes and music gear all were bought with the purpose of filling my free time, to be there for me when I had leisure time. Time to waste. I was looking at a room full of things meant to make passing my time easier and funner. The decorations were there to be put up to mark the passing of more time as a family.

Now, it all seems so silly.

Just yesterday, I had time. Now, time was a siren blaring, an alarm clock sounding that it was time to conclude unfinished business because the buzzer was about to ring as the time clock ran out.

Such news makes one instantly compile lists, both mentally and in practice.

Okay, I tell myself, it's time to get busy.

I found lists of things I would NOT be doing. should I have a death sentence. No more painful dentist work. Back taxes can wait. News had no more real estate to occupy in my brain, and all the political nonsense and shrieking college kids got evicted in a hot minute.

I would make peace with anyone I could think of who I'd wronged (thankfully, this is a pretty short list) and do whatever I could to set my wife and kids up to be...without me.

The surgery came. There was no pain of any sort, but I left the hospital with a catheter. Fun stuff.

Now, I wait for the lab results to tell me if I have cancer. This is the worst part so far. It ratchets up the anxiety level to new heights.

Some things are not going so well after surgery. Some indications of complications. I call the doctor to report the scary stuff, and I'm told to wait for a return call. The time comes and goes with no call. Do I wait some more?

What fantastic technology our medicine is. One only appreciates it once it's needed; up until then, it's just an abstract. I almost convinced myself again in the days leading up to the surgery that I didn't need it, as I had no obvious current symptoms.

I entered the operating room on my feet. I thought it slightly funny that on the surgical bed, there is a pan built into the bed, and they place your bottom right under it, just in case of unforeseen discharge. I couldn't help but think of convicted inmates being strapped in for lethal injection as they spread my arms out. The mask goes on, oxygen flows, and you smell alcohol as it flushes your veins. The doctor says, "See you in recovery, " and instantly, from my perspective, I am awake again.

Now, we are waiting for normal bodily functions to return and, more importantly, for the biopsy results.

My daughter has won the boyfriend lottery. He is a saint, and I almost feel like asking him to marry her because I no longer have time to wait. I want a grandchild, I realize now. I keep this to myself, of course.

My son has been working for our family business, and I have no choice but to pressure him to get the credentials I never needed. He has no time to wait or waste. I loath myself for wanting him to run a business, which has been difficult, but he was working at a grocery store and majoring in video games instead of college, so I decided this may be the best opportunity for him.

Now, as I wait for the word on whether I have cancer or not, I can't really sleep. I hover in a twilight where short dreams come. I am a ghost in one of these, looking in on my daughter. I felt that when my father died, I thought that he came to look in on me. I was in a financial crunch at the time. I felt him say, "You've got this. " And, I did have it. Ten years later, I am well known and respected for what I do in San Diego, reasonably well paid, and my life feels stable ( current political shitshow aside ).

The waiting sucks.

There has been a lot of time to think about the life I've been living. Some parts have been really hard, but in retrospect, I wouldn't change much. The complex parts make the good parts more meaningful. There has also been a lot of time to take inventory of my beliefs and evaluate my relationships. I cannot wait to be better to my friends and loved ones; this starts now. Not that I was terrible; I was just a tad harsh. I had to survive a rough childhood, and it left me with an edge and a tendacy to be overly quick to anger sometimes. My feeble attempts to apologize were usually met with acceptance and statements of love. Maybe I wasn't the shithead I had long thought of myself to be. Nobody wants me to die, despite that grim internal voice that suggests they be better off with the life insurance money, instead of me. My wife wants her husband, my kids, their dad. My employees wish for their boss, and my bandmates want me back on guitar before a microphone. Nobody, it seems, is encouraging me to ride the disease to the grave, as my own grim internal voice sometimes suggests.

Death can wait.

Night Shift

2024-03-10T18:57:00.000-07:00

I can't help but think of ghosts, as I make more of the steps that make up the long stretch between rest stops on the very dark climbers trail up to El Cajon Mountain.

More than a few people have died on this rocky hill. Most were hikers. One rock climber on the face we are hiking to decided to climb without a rope. He fell and nearly took out roped climbers, perhaps turning them also into ghosts as he bounced foolishly into the shrubs at the base of the five-hundred-foot cliff. Most San Diegans don't know about the cliffs of El Cajon Mountain, but they do refer erroneously to the mountain as El Capitan

I think about that ropeless climber as we hike.

The summer air is still and hot at night. The full moon is not yet out, but the bugs are. Dogs on sentry duty at some of the houses far below know we are up here and yell at us: " Yark! Yark! " I don't mind that so much. Getting shot at is not so fun, and it happens. Near the bottom of the mountain is an old rock quarry that sits above the dam and reservoir. Climbers use the crumbling, overhanging rock face to practice the skills needed to sleep on the giant walls in Yosemite. It may or may not be the homeowners below the quarry that shots. Still, I personally have been sleeping on that wall, and bullets have impacted it not far from my hanging tent. Some locals don't like the rock climbers. Listening to the persistent alerting dog, I feel sympathy. El Cajon Mountain has a long history in San Diego of epics and tragedies. It features its most strenuous hike and spectacular modern rock climbing. It's highly crowded during the cool season, even on many weekdays, so we climb at night.

It is possible to climb the El Cajon Mountains infamous rock face during the summer months in daylight hours, but you must do so at the crack of dawn, as by afternoon, the rock will be hot to the touch and impossible to climb. During the day, the 2-hour hike up to the rock face is deserted during the summer months; the trail is steep, the rattlesnakes are plenty, and heat exhaustion has taken out more than a few experienced hikers. At night, the rock is still warm, but the temperatures are pleasant, and there are no other foolhardy people up there to share the popular routes that would otherwise see a line queued up waiting for their turn to climb. My friend is stopped on the trail ahead, so I turn off my headlight. In the bushes with no moon, it is pitch black. I am fairly sure I hear footsteps off the trail. I know the mountain lions are here. I turn on my flashlight and am relieved to see no glowing eyes as I shine it around me in a circle. I turn the light back off, wondering if the footsteps are in my imagination. I hear my friend Mike smoking in the dark as he waits for me. I think of ghosts again. There is a different way to get up to the rock face over by the park. If you go that way, you walk by the ruins of an old miners' Homestead, where some remains of the belongings of the person who lived there still lay, including an old rusted typewriter and a decrepit motorcycle that will never run again. Who were they? Could it be their ghost I hear walking on the trail behind me? I start walking along the path again. Mike is waiting for me. He has to do that more these days, as I have fourteen years of living ahead of him. I think about being a ghost someday. I'm in no hurry for that, even though rock climbing is a sport with a memorial section in the magazines honoring my peers who fall. I call the hike up to the rock face " The Golden Staircase " because the second half of the trail is as steep as a set of stairs, and the boulders along the trail are gold and brown in color. If you are trying to make good time, it's a 1.5-hour hike in daylight. At night, it's closer to three hours before we get to the start of the route named Meteor. The moon begins to rise as we rack the climbing gear and start climbing up. We think the Meteor gets its name because it is very steep and you climb straight up. One morning, I was driving along the 8 freeway heading east. I glanced over to the left where El Cajon mountain rises, and I saw that when the sun first rises, the stunning outside corner of the upper part of the climb catches the first morning light, and it lights up like the streak of a meteor in the sky. We see no meteors or shooting stars in the sky tonight as the moon rises, casting our shadows on the granite face. I am climbing up first, clipping the bolts and setting the rope through the anchors.

My right hand grips a thin edge the width of a pencil, and my left hand is feeling around above me, looking for the next move. I am reading g the rock with my fingers like a blind man reading braille. I don't look up much, just enough to see my headlamp shine on the next safety bolt. I keep my attention on my feet, feeling gravity edge them off my stance one millimeter at a time. Each move higher as difficult as the last, some of the holds feel like I turn over a miniature hour glass, the tick-tocking of a timer clock, because I must move fast or tire and slip.

I know Mike can only see a bobbing headlight above him, nothing of my confidence or fear. Climbers talk to each other: " You got me Mike? " I ask, my voice echoes off the walls of the canyon. " I got you, " he says in the darkness one hundred feet below me now.

I pause at the shelf halfway up the first pitch and take pictures of the city lights below. I hum the Cat Stevens song " Moonshadow " as I finish the first pitch. Mike quickly follows up on the long first section, his headlight throwing conflicting shadows on the wall. We pause at the ledge before the upper corner and share a smoke break and the view. Far below now, the dogs are still barking. Mike starts up his section, and the moon is now so bright that we can almost turn off our headlamps, but we don't. Things feel more serious when we rock climb at night, and perhaps it is. We talk to each other more, both words of encouragement and caution. When he tops out on the false summit of Meteor, he pulls the rope up, and I follow as quickly as I can. Near the top of the face, there is a breeze. The air is no longer stale and now has the fresh feel of the coast. At the top of the climb is a perfectly flat shelf, just big enough for two or three people to sit on. We feel lucky to be here. The 125 freeway is far below and to the south, curving through the lights on its way to the hills that border Mexico. From up here, we can see it all and the darker space of the ocean beyond. To get off, we have to slide down our ropes past an overhang that has you hanging in space twenty feet from the wall and a hundred and fifty feet above the base. This part of climbing is the most dangerous, aside from the drive to get to the cliffs. One mistake would lead to a fast plunge into the darkness. I think again of the ghosts as I start down the trail. It's now 4 a.m., and only we and the dogs are awake. We are treated to the sight of Starlink as we near the car, like an interstellar freight train.

Strip Mining for Gravel

2024-02-26T17:43:00.000-08:00

The Vulcan Corporation is a giant company that operates many types of businesses that produce goods extracted from the Earth. It's a long established good old boys club that lists its products and its green policies proudly on their websites. Like a giant octopus, the camoflage it uses is well developed. There is an inky screen it uses to escape most attention and danger. It has many tentacles and is ruthless in pursuit of its prey.

California is well known as a state that is hard to do business in. It is common to hear companies complain of the difficulties of regulations and permits required to operate businesses. Especially ones that product dust and leave pollution in the ground water. Mining is expensive in terms of permits and insurance.

It's been said that there is no such thing as an honest business man: they will reluctantly be honest about the profits and methods they use, as the risk of both the competetion and the tax collector are ever present. Its good business to minimize taxation and permit costs.

In a state that is allegedly overly active about regulations, the truth is that there are key things in the supply chain that are not regulated at all. Homeowners sometimes find out after they buy a house with a clean inspection report that the roof leaks. They investigate and quickly find out that there are no standards or licensing requirements for home inspections in California. This allows real estate agents to conduct their business with reports from " inspections " that serve nothing more than to facilitate the transaction. The transaction is always the imperitive for both businessmen and tax collectors.

Companies like The Vulcan Corporation have their similar exploitation. They do not pay their far share of taxes nor pull permits for what is likely their most profitable byproduct because it is completely unregulated.

The lack of regulation and proper oversight is circumstantial evidence that somewhere along the lines the wheels are being greased.

Gold and other metals are sluiced out of these gravel beds: in every single known location where historic gold mining happened the Vulcan Corporation has set up massive " aggregate plants " that process millions of tons of gravel that is sold at a profit.

Completely undeclared and undocumented is the products these operations yield as a byproduct.

Truckloads of gold, literally, taken illegally out of them thar hills. There is more gold in the ground that was left behind then was ever pulled out by the old time prospectors, and there is no way this Corporation would get permits to operate a strip mine at the mouth of the Azusa Canyon that produced gold.

But innocent gravel used for building and road purposes? that's easily permitable.

They are able to get started in areas favorable to the underlying goal, which is the unregulated and unregistered processing of byproduct.

" I knew of a man in the San Joaquin Valley of California (near Fresno) who set up equipment in several gravel pits up and down the valley from Sacramento southward. He would place large washer boxes in the existing gravel classifying equipment and catch the fine gold as the river rocks and gravel moved through the system. I understand he would find 20 to 50 ounces a month depending on the location and output of the gravel pit. I know from first hand experience that most of the sand and gravel pits in this area of California do their own recovery of fine gold, and many make as much on the gold as they do on the sand and gravel. "

Many of the locations in San Diego and elsewhere they operate are not involved in any obvious way with this massive scheme. They are callous in the apparent disregard for complaints from townspeople nearby about dust and noise, but otherwise operate large settling ponds and processing pits in unsuspecting areas like Black Mountain in San Diego, near the 15 and 56 without much notice.

Other areas, the plunder is much more brazen. Like the area around Fish Canyon at the mouth of Azuza canyon where they are grotesqely strip mining the hillside and using these ill gotten gains to, one can speculate, bribe the right hands at the right intervales to keep this organized scheme off the radar of most of the residents.

One can find many links to now deleted web pages about court battles and town meetings regarding this area. The company does all this, claiming to be producing building materials, but the real cash cow is the byproduct of the areas they work in. The residents complaining about dust, noise from blasting and loss of access to hiking trails

Information about the tin and copper deposits around Vulcan Corps Corona California " aggregate " plant.

https://thediggings.com/mines/18678

San Diego lawsuits:

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/district-courts/FSupp2/106/1010/2510758/

Gravel prospecting: https://www.treasurenet.com/threads/prospecting-in-gravel-pits.33577/

The Big Wet One

2024-01-28T16:12:00.000-08:00

"The Big Wet One "

Many San Diego homeowners and property owners are battling with storms and flood water and the associated moisture and mold issues that come with them. This fight is not just contained to the recent storms that brought national attention to our city; it is a war of attrition. Like a Trojan Horse, the rain was welcomed. But now the infiltration is near complete, and people realize there is "water, water everywhere. "

The real troubles may lie directly ahead.

https://www.aonedge.com/Resource-Center/Blog/California-Great-Flood-of-1862

In this age of social pitfalls, where stating the wrong opinion about viral ideas and "settled science "can have one blacklisted, stalked, harassed, and generally regretful about ever bringing up the notion that there might be bigger wheels turning, the casual heresy of talking about weather calamities as being natural and cyclical is rife with concern. So, for argument, let's suspend disbelief and accept this presentation as an allegation of real people and events. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. There is no need for torches and canceling; we can all agree that people have a direct cause and effect on our climate and that pollution is terrible.

Recent storms in San Diego flooded homes and businesses. That is news.

Why this is happening is not news because it's not easily understood.

San Diego has experienced several years of above-average rain. Before the hurricane last year, the previous rainfall of 2022-2023 shattered records and seemed relentless. My rain gauge outside my East County home measured over forty inches of rain, far exceeding what was reported. Some may recall that on Friday in 2019, over four inches of rain fell in San Diego, beyond the January storm that made news as the largest on record in 100 years.

What is this? Fake news? Lazy reporting? A scramble to be first to print?

Loudly absent in the cacophony of news anchor voices shouting about "atmospheric rivers "and "accelerating man-made climate change "is any sensible reference to history.

Looking at history, using various sources and historical data, the reality is that current weather patterns over the last several years mirror the weather patterns of 1862, which destroyed 25% of the inhabited real estate in California, forced our state capital to be moved fifty miles away to higher ground and killed thousands of people.

If the pattern repeats its complete previous cycle, it will be the greatest natural disaster in our nation's history. Imagine the 8 freeway in Mission Valley under ten feet of water.

"Water is coming out of our floors. "

San Diego is at an intersectionality proving painful and costly to many homeowners. Imagine your roof is not leaking, but the carpets and baseboards around the living room are wet. Your home is on a slab.

The process is common for homeowners. They call a fire and flood company, who comes in and usually removes the floor and bottom two feet of drywall, stripping the home down to its bones in the area affected. These companies set up fans and dehumidifiers, and the homeowners are told to seek a remedy through a plumber or drainage specialist.

All of this happens with the real suggestion that lack of action can cause mold to set in. Still, it's a whirlwind, and the terrified homeowner is now locked into costly rentals and reconstruction. The hapless homeowner pays a leak detection company to find that there is no leak. They then turn to the internet, looking for a drain company. Plumbers and gardeners are usually whom the oracles at Google send the homeowners to, and some of these companies, or people, may see an opportunity to take money from the victim's hands, turn it into food, and put it in their mouths, so they give a price to fix the problem, often times having no previous experience whatsoever.

The homeowner may spend thousands on said work. Then it rains, and they sometimes find their situation worse because gardening and plumbing aren't drainages. Drainage done incorrectly can redirect and concentrate the water, worsening the problem.

The money pits and traps for the homeowners are more intense for San Diego homes with a crawlspace. People don't associate basements in homes in San Diego. Still, there are literally hundreds of basements in cities like La Mesa, Vista and La Jolla, in areas built into hillsides that are currently seeping water into the living spaces.

The confluence of aging homes, poorly designed or non-existent city planning, and lack of experience with waterproofing homes by local contractors is now a multi-billion dollar problem for San Diego property owners. Some cities like La Mesa and Encinitas have zero civil engineering, i.e., plans for drainage and parking, because the houses are built on what was once farms, and the city incorporations came later. It is not uncommon for homeowners in these areas to find out that they are in a flood zone or that large storm drains on their properties are older than the city they live in. When they fail, the homeowners may be able to file a claim with their insurance company but are otherwise on their own.

They then have to go through a process of trial and error with contractors to find a fix.

The multi-billion dollar flood and reconstruction problem is a gasping canary in the coal mine, warning of lousy air ahead.

This recent storm brought much more severe localized flooding than the storms of the last few years, which added up to more rain. It wasn't just a single record rain day that caused these floods, because we have had those and have not flooded to the same extent. Why the storm was measurably worse in property destruction because all the soil was already saturated from the previous year's rains, and not only could the soil not absorb any more rain, but the hydrostatic pressure from the water table was pushing the groundwater up so that some areas and neighborhoods in Clairmont made news last spring because they were literally flooding with groundwater.

Areas without the obvious crisis-level flows requiring cities to set up pump stations are experiencing this same hydrostatic pressure. Rainwater aggressively pushes its way out of the soil, into the footings and crawlspaces, up through the concrete slabs, and into the walls. This can cause anything from wet carpets to rendering the homes literally uninhabitable because of mold.

Why does one San Diego home get mold, and the next just gets a wet patio after the rain?

It seems to be luck. Homes that have more rocky soil tend to have fewer issues. Areas of high clay ( see 90% of San Diego ) have more costly problems.

The recent storms brought localized calamities that were entirely preventable. From clogged rain gutters pulling them off the homes and clogged landscape drains to blown-out sump pumps never maintained since installation, the worst case I heard of was an Encinitas homeowner who had the intersectionality of trash cans in the curb pushing a deluge out of the gutter, a clogged street storm drain, and her garage set below street level. She watched haplessly as the water roared through her home with enough force to rearrange the furniture.

Historical Patterns & The Looming Disaster.

Now, our soils are at peak saturation, and another "atmospheric river "is said to be coming.

It's easy enough to research and pick from various sources. I like dry facts and plain numbers without the faintest trace of politics. I understand that politics is like art in that some people see it as offensive, whereas others might find bias or spin beautiful.

A crusty old professor on YouTube named Leon Hunsaker has a video called "The Legendary Floods of 1861 & 1962 "that presents the measurable records and describes what will happen, to some extent, to a modern California should the pattern repeat.

Imagine every dam in the state overflowing and the rivers flowing at four times flood level. Imagine around one million submerged homes around the states and map-changing mudslides.

The Great Flood of California occurred after several years of above-average rain, similar to what we are experiencing now. In 1862, with the ground wholly saturated from previous rains, a subsequent and more enormous storm dumped over ten feet of rain.

This storm was so massive that Big Bear mining communities were under thirty feet of snow, and some people were trapped for six months. Then, spring came. The enormous snowpack met with a heat wave, and the floods raged for weeks when they melted rapidly.

People lost their lives by the thousands, and entire communities were washed away.

This was before the vast floodplain of the Central Valley was populated, before Mission Valley was built, and its floodwaters were long forgotten.

If this same combination of events happens, and we get the now overdue arc storm in the next year or two ( it could actually still happen this year ), the headlines will be screaming about man-made climate disaster, but the real story is lack of civil planning and engineering and a state that was parceled out by land speculators who ruthlessly marketed some small towns like Joshua Tree as a tropical paradise. Literally, charlatans would stick oranges to the spines of a Joshua Tree, take a photo, and market it to speculators back east as land with fruit orchards.

The book Cadillac Desert by Marc Reisner describes these wild marketing gimmicks and how Los Angeles was sold and built before any water plan was made, creating aging curiosities like the California aqueduct ( where thousands of miles of open canals allow millions of gallons of water to evaporate from The Colorado River ) and The Owens River project, which supplied water and power to Los Angeles.

In recent years, municipal water departments have lamented leaky irrigation. Our culture was sold on green grass and tropical plants, and many are just stuck there, even though they are wrong for our environment ( related to the general lack of civic planning and engineering ).

It's related because right now, all over San Diego, people are running their irrigation and over-watering saturated soil that can barely breathe ` because it is wet clay.

The intersectionality of cleptomatic state politicians, historical shysterism of land speculators, aging homes, bad construction standards and practices, and current weather events are a significant headache for many San Diegans.

Headaches and nuisances are far different from tragedies. A flooded home is a nuisance, but large-scale loss of life and property is a tragedy.

That people in positions of power will exploit and benefit from the tragedy is a guarantee almost as certain as the looming disaster our state faces. They don't want any of us to type "The Great Flood Of California "into a search engine because it would make us wonder why they haven't done anything to prepare for the obvious, and it would knock the wind out of their gasbags when they try to assign blame to man-made climate change, which is natural of course, settled science and all but verboten to talk about.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cadillac_Desert

Do Not Enter Thunder Canyon Cave

2023-10-08T17:17:00.019-07:00

About an hour east of downtown San Diego, there is one of southern Californias greatest adventures, possible in a days outing.

I don't think of myself as an " adrenaline junky ", but my sport does have an obituary type section in many online forums and groups.

To be deeply involved in something, it is usually inevitable to lose most perspective about the value of, or motivations behind the things we do. Especially inherently risky things like rock climbing and caving. Why do I do this? Is this sane, or healthy?

Waiting my turn at the start of he cave, I found myself thinking about taking my son through. " Oh, hell no. " The Rational Voice says, internally. I look in to the black hole that is the entrance, and it feels something like a tomb. It's way too dangerous to allow my children to enter. And as I wait The Rational Voice asks me, " if it's too dangerous for them, what am I doing here? "

It's a good question, and one of the many questions that get asked and answered in Thunder Canyon Cave, each time I go through.

After the epic rains of 2022/2023 we decided to explore the infamous Thunder Canyon Cave. On several of our previous trips through when it's dry we were curious about the water that had sculpted these passages. Following the drainage down from its intersection with an old road that leads to an abandoned ranch, we learned soon how the cave got its name. The homesteads or ranch that is near the illusive cave lays on the edge of a slope that drops down to the open desert leading out to the Salton Sea, and I used to imagine that the discovery of the cave was made by children playing near the ranch. We now know that it got its name because when it is in " peak flow " the sound of the water flowing thunders up the canyon. Thunder Canyon Cave has a reputation for being an extremely dangerous place. As I descend the rope in to the cave, now roaring with water, mud splashes all over my chest and my jacket gets caught in my rope. I am temporarily stuck hanging over a pool of water of unknown depth about fifty feet below. It occurs to me that my hands are getting cold and my that inner voice says calmy; " you could die here. Don't mess up. "

Luckily, I am right over the lip of the first drop, within reach of my friend Bobby, who is going last through.

I am grateful to be close to him, that I can get an assist. I shine my headlight up and shout in as calm a voice as I could shout.

" Bobby, I got a situation here. "

He peers down, quickly asses the said situation and grabs my hand to pull me up, just enough, to unstick my jacket from the belay device. "

The Rational Voice is reprimanding; " What would have happened if he wasn't there? In my mind that ' what if ' plays out in a flash in my imagination: I would try and unstick my jacket from the device that provides friction as you descend the rope. This device, called a belay device, has sucked my rain jacket in to itself, in a death grip. As I do this, my hand would slip and I would to fall in to the dark abyss, bouncing off walls and landing in a pile of gore at the bottom of the vertical shaft.

All of this a very real possibility, if mistakes are made.

The part of my brain that is in a constant state of self analyzation, realizes that I don't feel fear, and it seems curious somehow, given the absurdity of the circumstances.

I unstick my jacket, but now there is a large hole in it, and as I descend down the rope on rappel the wet and muddy rope is being wrung out like a dirty rag, spraying my face and chest with gritty water. I leave my friend above. He will follow when I am off the rope.

At the bottom, the normally flat room is flooded with three feet of water and a six inch fountain of water is shooting out the wall and free falling twenty feet. It is surreal. This normally dry desert talus cave is exploding with rain water that has filtered down from the gullies and normally dry river beds.

My friend Michael has already plunged through the waterfall and I can hearing him shouting whoops of joy, so I go. I have trusted my friends with my life, literally. On El Capitan in Yosemite, other wild adventures like climbing San Diego famous local climbing routes like Meteor, in the dark, but, there has been nothing remotely close to what we are doing now, in terms of intensity. In terms of the unknowns and risks, it's way beyond what most climbing offers.

One of the realizations that I've made as an adult about some of these things, is that despite what the so-called Risk Takers and Adrenaline Junkies say about our own wild outings there comes a point in all these Adventures where you have to say to yourself, I might very well die here, but I'm going to do it anyway. I have that thought as I'm there, alone, now sixty feet underground looking at a wall of water I must pass through: " This is fucking insane. I might die. "

This voice is not shrill and panicked. It is the overtly calm and perhaps deadpan voice of the pilot of a 747 informing the passengers not to worry about that engine that has smoke trailing out behind the airplane.

I plunge through the water fall and begin the mad scramble that goes down, up and around dozens of twists and turns, some places I am doing moderate rock climbing, with no rope, others I am removing my tiny backpack to squeeze through almost impassable cracks and fissures, now thundering with surprisingly warm rain water.

All thoughts of staying dry are gone. I am instantly soaked and now its a race to the exit because to reverse our path now means to ascend a wet rope through a water spray sixty feet up. We have the equipment and experience to climb the rope, but its difficult, and so far the cave is passable and so we move as quickly as we can forward in to a wild and wet labyrinth.

At one point the four of us pause at another rope drop. This room is named The Cathedral Room and it is by far the largest internal space inside of Thunder Canyon perhaps 80 feet from the floor to the roof above. It is not lost on us that this roof is composed of giant sized granite boulders wedged in place by each other. Bobby brings up a filter, like an aquarium. He casually mentions that when a filter gets clogged it can suddenly become unclogged and release a giant amount of debris.

We then all visualize a flash flood inside of the cave and I at least, contemplate drowning.

I am third in line in a four party team. My primary climbing partner Michael and his girl friend Kelly are moving fast, now far enough down the winding path that I am alone waiting for Bobby to descend the wet rope from the entrance. I am at the end of a fifty foot corridor right before a sharp turn, far enough away from the others that for a moment it is both silent and, when I turn off my headlight , utterly pitch dark.

I wait in the cave, marveling at my surroundings and our passage roaring with water under my feet.

Instantly, The Rational Voice strikes up a conversation: " You know, this must be what the grave is like. In fact, this probably will be your grave. " Well, I answer, I certainly could be. I'm not gonna mess up. The mental chatter is quiet for a few moments. and then my friend catches up.

We go on, around, down.

In thinking about how to tell the story of Thunder Canyon Cave, I found it hard to explain the motivations to go repeatedly to a place that is well known to be extraordinarily dangerous. Yet, surely that must be part of the story. Why? Was I dropped on my head as a child?

As it turns out, yes I was.

In fact, in searching for a voice for this story I kept thinking about those of us who do dangerous sports for fun. It turns out that there are common things amongst risk takers. The primary pattern I noticed was that many of the people doing the most outrageous things, like climbing giant cliffs without ropes, have written about suffering depression and concussions. There seems to be a part of the brain that can get shut off when you suffer brain injury. The medical term is " slow brain bleed ", and the short description is that if you get dropped on your head, you can have a slow seepage of blood and fluid in the skull that does things like cause depression, kill normal fear reactions and make you have mild bi-polar like symptoms.

My buddies are all bold. We have shared many adventures, and all of us have been knocked unconscious at least once. I am NOT speaking for them or as to their motivations, all I know is that in 5th grade I cracked my head open in a snow sledding accident. I've always been a little edgy and have what some say is an unusual calm demeanor in high stress situations.

One of the things people say about Alex Honnold, the famous rock climber is that he's very robotic and I think, and again I cannot speak for him, but along with the ability to not feel normal fears, there's the ability to not feel normal things. This can can have complicating implication on a person's life and relationships.

People have inhabited the area around McCain Valley, in the In-Ko Pah mountain for approximately 10,000 years, but there is no way any of those ancient Americans would have been through these passages, because Thunder Canyon is a climbers cave. On my first trip through, I came across things I mistook for petrified wood. They look like thick tree roots, but they are stone. Water has carved a path through this talus field and made a real cave. Deep inside there is the cave equivalent of a summit register, where mountaineers leave their names and date of ascent. The book is in a bottle with a lid hanging from a string. At the time it was hard to imagine water in the cave enough to make that book wet. I would come to find out later that no parts of the cave would be safe from the water that literally thunders through it after rainy years. Inside the register are names and dates of other people who have passed through. My name is in there at least six times, and each time I go through I feel the sense of an enormous passage of time. I also sense doom. At the bottom of the cave there is often the remains of snakes and tarantulas that get trapped in there. They are perhaps lured by the smell of water in the desert to the eternal darkness where they die.

Thunder Canyon Cave is a tomb, but this time though the cave is flushed clean of all the bodies.

During summer trips to the cave we usually go at night. The hike in is through a sandy trail, downhill going in and a long uphill slog going out. At night the desert is teeming with insect and animal activity, and inside Thunder Canyon Cave its the same: at night there are bats and many more large spiders. We always go through in at least a group of three, and if one of the party has never been through, they are usually asked to lead the way, because its exciting for them and fun for us to watch the fear on their faces as they try and find the right way. There are now some painted arrows on the walls, placed there by the rescue teams who have had to hoist hapless parties stuck deep inside. Even with the arrows there are a plethora of dead ends and risky drops offs and leading through, even after a half dozen times or more you have to be careful about not going the wrong way. Going the wrong way just means going back to find the correct way, not doom. " Unless you fall, or make a mistake at the wrong time ", The Rational Voice points out.

I imagine my headlight dying, and the voices of my friends getting farther away. In some passages, if you were to botch the job of making your way through, and slip and fall, you might get stuck in such a way as your body would not be retrievable. So, you don't fall. Much like the movie Free Solo, where Alex Honnold is gripping the rock face and facing certain death if one thing should go wrong, the passage through is that stark: you CANNOT make a mistake. Yet mistakes happen, and The Voice describes in great detail in a mind movie the variety of ways I could die inside Thunder Canyon Cave.

We are moving fast. Normally we will spent two hours or more exploring the cave, but now we are just racing. Speed is safety, they say in the mountains. Haste also makes waste. I caution the team to keep their bodies away from the rock walls whenever possible because the rock leeches the warmth out of your body quickly. We pass the second rope drop, now in the largest room. It is a surreal scene. I am reminded of an absurd adventure scenario scene in a " B " movie, where everything is chaos all at once. There is a waterfall flowing from the cave wall. We must run through a drenching shower or turn back. Kelly is through the cave for the first time, she beung least experienced of the team at goimng through has a brief moment of concern when Bobby and I consult our maps. We are not lost, just trying to see on the map where the waterfall is marked. She mistakes our curiosity for confusion about which way to go and becomes visibly distressed.

This increases the sense of urgency and we increase the pace. The Rational Voice says, " You know, we don't know if she CAN climb back up this rope, through a mist of water, and if she losses her cool and starts to freak we are going to be stuck in here...forever. " That means we are now committed and must go forward. And we do. My imagination briefly plays out the scene of the four of us in there, forever. Our remains perhaps found many years later, perhaps not.

None of that happens. She performed remarkably well.

I realize what this is. This imagination is irrational fear.

Rational fear keeps you alive: it is wise to be afraid of falling from heights. It is not wise to imagine your equipment breaking or being stuck for ten thousand years. Irrational fear though, is what causes panic. The ability to separate rational fears from irrational fears is a byproduct of many years spent rock climbing. The rational fear is that if we are too slow or get stuck that we could all die of hyperthermia. The irrational fear is that we are lost inside the cave,

As I am moving towards the final and most dangerous passage, I am speaking calm words of encouragement to myself and anyone in earshot. Panic is contagious, and once given voice it can blossom like a poison flower. " We are almost out, " my friend tells her. " this is the last bit. All easy from here. " I absorb this too. I've been here before. Why?

He goes through. She goes through. Bobby who had pulled me up when my jacket was stuck goes in and I am alone again, about thirty five feet from the rest of our team

The final section is called " The Dread Chimney ".

Its been the scene of near fatal mishaps involving full on rescue. Its a twenty five foot section that starts about 18" wide and quickly pinches down to a slot so narrow that you cannot turn your head. My climbing helmet is a tight fit. You start in, then must invert sideways and slither across a wobbly wood plank. Twisting or getting your feet tangled will quickly have you stuck, exhausted and rapidly dying of hypothermia. It can be 110 degrees outside Thunder Canyon Cave, but the rock walls are about 73 degrees which brings death as mathematically certain as gash in the Titanic brought her sinking.

Before I start in I pass through the small back packs we carry that contain extra lights, food and extra vital equipment. If you are in a cave with one belay device, and you drop it, you will put yourself and your entire team in grave danger. So we pack redundancy: if you cannot survive without it bring two or three.

I pause and look back. The team is waiting for me, but I want to enjoy the absurdity of the moment, so I turn my headlight off and do the first half of The Dread Chimney in a darkness as deep as the grave. This has the desired effect and my heart races.

The darkness makes me feel something more like fear, what I think it is other people must feel, and I turn the light back on and execute the crux section without dying. " This time, " The Rational Voice says. " You get to live, this time. But maybe not the next time..."

We can now feel warmer air in the cave as we near the end, and the thundering sound of the water raging through the cave is more distant. We point these things out to our friend and she leaves her nervousness behind. In my imagination, I see myself down there with the other creatures who did not make it out. In the dark.

Previous trips through I noticed things I mistook for petrified wood in places coming out of the cave walls. How could tree roots be so deep inside the cave? Going through now the flooded cave the answer was revealed; the things I thought were ancient wood turned to stone were in fact the paths of the flowing water. The water leaves minerals on the rock where it flows so that, when old enough, it forms travertine flowstone that look like tree roots or branches.

On these previous trips I had given no thought as to why I did this. I was aware that I was asking myself, " why? ", but I never thought to answer.

We all look at Thunder Canyon Cave as a privilege. Yet, the reality is that doing this is inherently and seriously dangerous. Telling this story made me examine myself and my motivations and come to some truths. Part of what I learned was brought on by reading about other adventure athletes, people who climb without ropes, examining why they did it because I didn't understand why I do it. I learned that many of them eventually take one risk too many. Some fail to solve their problems by taking these risks, so they take their own lives. Most don't seem to have read about brain injuries and how they can re-wire the brain. How it may be these brain injuries that make our minds so full of dark mental chatter that sometimes, we obsess about the grave, or take risks that seem reckless to other ' normal ' people. I learned that I do these things that are really hard and dangerous because they make every day problems seem tame and simple. Not because I want to get hurt. But because the mental chatter is still there and it has to be tamed. The adrenaline is a strange reminder that we are alive and the near death experiences that come with things like Thunder Canyon Cave or rock climbing remind people with this problem that we really do want to live.

Thunder Canyon Cave makes us feel alive and charged with energy. Despite the many twists and turns inside the cave you exit very close to where you start. The same question at the end as it was at the beginning: " Why am I here ? "

Now at least, we know how it got its name.

I have not been back since then. There is a sense that I can never top that experience. Not in climbing or caving.

Exploring the labyrinths of my mind further might be the best reason to go back.

DISCLAIMER

If one tries to research about Thunder Canyon cave, all they will find is horror stories about people getting stuck. There is the very real possibility that getting stuck or even slightly injured will mean death. I would say that the vast majority of people entering Thunder Canyon Cave are unqualified to be there. Meaning they would be unable to reverse course should they be unable or unwilling to go forward. To reverse your path through the cave means you must have the equipment and experience to climb a rope up vertical shafts. Any mention of this place must come with a strongly worded warning: Thunder Canyon Cave is a technical cave, not meant for hikers or tourists. Entering the cave comes with extreme risk in the best of conditions. It involves sections where you must rappel down a rope, where mistakes can easily cost you your life and accidents put your entire team in danger. Rescue will be hours away, and if you are stuck in there, you likely will die of hypothermia before help can come. There are multiple ways in to and out of Thunder Canyon Cave, and its rude to ask where it is. You have to be invited. Searching online for Thunder Canyon Cave yields only stories of near death experiences by people who have been rescued. Its not that the caving community is territorial, like surfers are said to be, its that we want access protected, so we discourage inexperienced climbers from going in there and regularly pack out any trash we find.

This publication and the author disavow any mishaps you may bring upon yourselves or your friends.

DO NOT ENTER THUNDER CANYON CAVE

The Great Sweat Lodge In The Sky

2021-06-05T23:19:00.184-07:00

" With certain misgivings, we started moving our climbing gear, food and water to the top of the third class buttress from which the climbing would begin. " ---Warren Harding

The Nose of El Capitan, Grade VI, 5.8 C2

Michael Memmel and Alex Barlow high up on The Nose

I never set out to be a rock climber: I was one of those kids who would climb any tree or brick surface. I thought I was afraid of heights. Who isn't? I would still climb everything.

When one first lays eyes on Yosemite, it can be overwhelming. The walls are so big that it creates an optical illusion when you are close to them. I recall times looking up at a section of the climb when we were on it, thinking it was only fifty feet or so that we had to cover, when in reality it was closer to two hundred feet.

When you first stand in the meadow looking up at El Capitan its hard to imagine that it is almost taller than three of our former World Trade Centers stacked end on end. It is two and a half miles wide. You can see people up there, but they appear as tiny specs of color with no definition of limbs. Just tiny dots that are people.

My first reaction to seeing those specks of color and movement and realizing that there were people up there was to want to know how such a thing could even be possible. I observed the other people in the meadow looking up at the climbers and speaking of them as being elite persons somehow. They were watching them like people watch rock stars on a stage. I was getting to the age where becoming a working musician, a " rock star " if you will, was becoming less likely. Here then, was a chance to be a rock star of a different sort, and I wanted to be that with all my being.

So I began to buy books on how to do it, starting with " Mountaineering, The Freedom Of The Hills ". It showed drawings of rope configuration and men climbing using a method called " Direct Aid " where you'd use various hooks, pitons and other exotic tools with intriguing names like B.A.T. hooks. That B.A.T. was an acronym for " basically absurd technology " made it somehow more appealing as the whole idea was absurd. I had always been sort of a class clown and wanna-be rock star, so the swashbuckling nature of some of our pioneers like Warren Harding and John Bachar struck a chord in my soul and I knew I had found my tribe, at least on paper. The problem was that in 1994 there wasn't this cool tool called the internet where you could easily connect with people and go out and do cool stuff. There were no willing partners that would consider standing on hooks and sleeping on a giant cliff that I could find, so I started learning about rope soloing and that led me to the story of Charlie Porter and his solo first ascent of the route " The Zodiac " on El Capitan.

Soloing a big wall first ascent was the coolest thing I could imagine. Surely, I thought, these men and women must be the strongest people on Earth.

By chance one day at a practice crag in Big Bear California I bumped in to a slightly older climber who was there to do the same thing: practice rope solo big wall climbing. Once we figured out that we two had come to practice one of the most obscure forms of climbing there is we struck a quick friendship and more or less decided then and there that we would climb El Capitan together.

Or, at least, try.

I had, by that point, two other Yosemite big wall climbs behind me. I had done the usual ante up routes: The West Face of The Leaning Tower and the South Face of Washington Column, so I considered myself ready. Moreover, I had a Fish Products haul bag, a handful of pitons and a specialized piece of equipment called a " Wall Hauler " that was used to move heavy loads up the wall. ( more on that particular tool later in this story ). We picked the " easiest " way we could see in the guide book and began attempting The Triple Direct in the spring of 1996.

We started by going up a " pitch " or two. Then a bit higher, until we knew we could get to the first place to sleep ( aka bivy ) in one days climbing, then decided we would launch. Once we started up, we quickly found out that the climbing was harder than expected, and surprisingly, the thought of going down, or retreating was more terrifying than going up. So, we kept going, and eventually made it to the top.

I didn't know what I didn't know, and had I known I might have spent another ten years " learning the ropes " before attempting such a serious climb as El Capitan. But, there I was. I was not ( and am not ) a particularly gifted climber. I was sort of high strung ( still working on that ) and naturally bold, or careless about my life ( the lines blur when gazing at bravery or suicidal thoughts in the murky corridors of ones brains ) so when it came time to throw down, I did and, somehow I made it. But, it wasn't " fun ". It was five days of sun up to sun down labor, with a constant adrenaline rush, as if a grand piano had just crashed out of the sky right next to you, every minute of every day, all day long. I recall getting in to a state of mind that I imagined what a shaman on a serious peyote trip must be like: days of extreme effort with little food clean you out and reduce you to a sort of feral state, and you in that hour find out what you really are made of. The survival instincts on a big wall are such that you are performing at a level not really possible in a " safe " environment.

As a young man, I was more afraid in some situations than the circumstances warranted, and not experienced enough to be afraid enough about things like loose, balanced rocks. So I was gripped by an irrational fear about things such as solid gear failing and then horror movie jump scare afflicted by pulling on or touching loose rock that will actually kill you. I thought I would have a better experience as a mature person with a lifetimes worth of hard knocks, and that was part of my motivation for doing it again.

I've tried to explain it over the years but it fails me. It's like, climbers are more like front line soldiers than anything else. We willingly march in to danger and put our lives in to the hands of our buddies. Also, the ratings up there don't mean the same as they do down here. 5.8 is basically a beginners grade, but try it with thirty pounds of equipment and tangled up in slings and suddenly 5.8 rock climbing is serious business. Also, there is no easy way to climb a big wall, and every pitch will force you to climb your best and smartest, even if the book says it has no " mandatory free " climbing.

The bond Steve and I developed up there was powerful. We had to rely on each other and encourage each other as the reality is, if you are fool enough to find yourself on The Big Stone, in that vast theatre of doom, there is nobody who will get you out of it but your self and the buddy standing in his slings next to you.

Years passed, and the memory began to fade. The lines around my eyes got deeper, the joint pains more constant and acute. I began to realize that my existence had a shelf life with a expiration date that was now becoming more close than I liked . Certain parts of my life were broken. I was a drunk and I once again found myself casually contemplating my own doom.

I thought that the process of getting in shape for El Capitan and being reborn sober was a path to reconciliation with my wife. That was an uncertainty for sure, but staying stuck where I was meant certain doom and ruin.

I recognized a midlife crisis had taken grip on me. " Is this all my life is to be? "

I believed that by learning again that I was capable of great deeds and undergoing great change I had an opportunity to gain mastery of not the rock, but my very life and all the things that are the most important.

I decided that I would seek that shaman state again. I thought of El Capitan as a sort of " Great Sweat Lodge In The Sky " where I could go to be renewed. I knew through the process, should I chose to accept the mission, that I would become fit again. Maybe more appealing to my spouse. Or even, maybe it was a potentially cool way to end it all and people would say, " he died doing what he loved " or something like, " he played stupid games so he won a stupid prize ".

Either way, I was becoming desperate, because my natural proclivity for depression was taking over and it was beginning to feel like existing was painful. Certain events in my life made me realize that I had drank enough, so I quit. No rehab. No drama. Sometime before I got sober, I met a guy named Michael Memmel. I had made a post on Facebook about having a miracle snake oil cure for climbing rubber, a shoe renewing product, and the only person to respond was Mike. With his size 14 feet climbing shoes were hard to come by. What I was doing, in a weird way, was fishing for a climbing partner who was better than me. I knew I wanted to climb El Capitan again, but I knew better than to be the best free climber on the team. He saw my piles of gear and suggested we climb together. I recall saying that my goal was to climb El Capitan and that I was developing a practice route at a nearby abandoned rock quarry. He was game and showed up to practice. He was clearly putting in more work than my other prosective partners.

Michael struck me as having sort of a strong will with, at least, narcissistic leanings. He was super careful ( aka anal ) with ropes and gear, doing somethings overkill, not having experience enough to do other things that I had learned to be mandatory ( such as ALWAYS using a multidirectional anchor as the first piece off the belay ) but he was blessed with a quick wit, endless energy and was pretty fun to hang out with. We got up The Prow of Washington Column together, during grim heat and smoke conditions and I developed trust in him.

It was his idea to do The Nose of El Capitan.

" I am not a good enough free climber, " I told him when he made the suggestion. He assured me that he could climb 5.10 and would do all the free climbing. I knew what he didn't know about free climbing up there, but, all the pieces seemed to be in place and he was putting in the work practicing and showing himself to be much better ( and twelve years younger ) at free climbing than me. I knew that, because of his strong will and previous experience together, that some things he was just going to have to learn for himself . He was simply not open to hearing certain things, and at the same time he was thinking of things I was not, so I begin to recognize that these mechanical skills he had and somewhat selfish tendencies he had also made for a great, determined climbing partner.

We agreed on a date and plan.

Mike says goodbye to his family before the trip.

Day 1

I picked up Mike at his place in Ramona at about 6 p.m.

We drive until I am about to fall asleep then I pull over. We 'sleep' in the truck seats. I find enough comfort to get an hour or two of good sleep. I dream of voices high above shouting " slack! " and of a gargoyle with a mans face sitting at a place called The Glowering Spot.

The Ghost of " Batso " at The Glowering Spot, perhaps.

We arrived in Yosemite to find, despite a new permit system for overnight climbers, that a giant crowd was on our intended path. There were teams at every belay, teams going up this start, that start, coming down, going up, waiting, passing, taking forever or moving fast and one curious portaledge camp set up five hundred feet above at a place called Sickle Ledge that did not appear to move for the three days it took us to get started. We decided that the only logical plan of attack was to get on the route and not come down until we were done: to take our place in the conga line and do the dance. That meant taking what seemed like a giant amount of water and food and doing what every body else was not doing, which was to start from the ground and take our stuff with us. It was such a sight with all the teams, with some particular morons who dropped both large rocks and their haul bags. that a Facebook post was made and we found ourselves in the picture with great hilarity. That was after hiking 4-5 loads of food and water to the base, sorting gear and packing up, and patiently waiting for hours at a time for the line to progress. It occurs to me that it was a rather grotesque scene, like the crowds on Everest. But even the rangers told us that if we wanted to climb The Nose we " better get on it . "

I reassured Michael again that the crowds woud thin out dramatically by the halfway point, as the bottom part of the route was complicated and involved multiple pendulums and a dreaded chimney section that does involve easy yet unprotected climbing for enough distance to eat you should you fall.

The sight of not one but two giant haul bags at the top of the starting buttress was no doubt met with snickers. But, we waited out the bailers and failers, and let the sailors sail. We saw times range from seven days on the wall for a successful team to five days by a team forced to retreat from El Cap Tower, to some maniacs doing the whole wall in five hours.

For some reason the first one hundred and eighty feet of The Nose do not count, even though it would be a nasty sight if you fell before the start. Right as we got to the top of the starting buttress near disaster struck. As, we were carrying an abusive amount of water our load was extremely heavy, so we had agreed to use a robust mechanical advantage of 4-1 on our hauling system. It worked great, moving the 350+ pound load up the wall with enough strength to not feel the haul bags catch on stuff like trees and rocks. It pulled the bags so hard that the rope coreshot and the sheath failed, right as the bags neared the belay. I glanced down at tourists around the base, looking up at where Free Solo and The Dawn Wall were filmed, wondering if they knew how close little Jonny was to doom down there, maybe eating a Pb&J, at risk of becoming pulverized. I quickly slapped an emergency sling to back the giant load up and Micheal, showing the first of his mechanical art skills, repositioned the inverted rope catch of our haul to a place on the rope where the sheath was not exposed, cheating death for the second time so far. ( The driving to and from the climbing is usually as dangerous as the climbing, so I mean, we cheated death once by just being there. Twice by sparing the innocent tourons* below. )

Core exposed on haul line, day 1
Tourons below. * ( touron is a combination of the words tourist and moron )

We headed back to Curry Village, too late to get a rope, but early enough in a different era of my life to get drunk one last time before committing to the vertical abyss. We settled for hot food and showers before heading back up our fixed lines the next morning, both of us not drinking any alcohol whatsoever.

As a younger man, I may have kept good records as to who led what parts of the climb, but its all a blur now. We went to sleep to return the next day with my 70 meter sport climbing rope as the new lead line and we'd use Mikes lead rope as the haul line. What sleep I had was again filled with the sounds of clanging iron and climbers shouting to each other.

Day 2

We led up to a new high point. The sport rope was extra stretchy to ascend, bouncing me up and down with its dynamic nature. I imagine rough edges cutting the sheath of my rope and exposing the core again. In my minds eye, I see myself falling to bounce off the rock below, I hear a wet snapping of bones and there is a splash of color as my body impacts the ground below in front of Little Jonny and his Pb&J. I imagine Little Jonny doesn't react much, even though he has some blood and brain goo on his forehead, as he's probably been desensitized by violent video games, but his parents though....they'd be mortified.

Starting up. Pitch 2 or 3.

" Mike! Fuck this! Lets go get a new rope! "

We left our massive load of gear, known in our sport as a " Junk Show " at the rather comical spot of the top of pitch two. No doubt at all, the laughingstock of all the climbers in Yosemite. I look at it as we walk back, yet again, to the truck for another mindless loop around the valley and I feel somewhat embarrassed. Mike isn't. He is on El Capitan in Yosemite, living the dream, hooting and whooping it up to all who whoop or monkey call.

There are no rooms at the inn so we bivy near the base of the route after buying a new static rope for hauling. What sleep I get, and its always little the night before you blast off on a big climb, is filled again with the sounds of those old climbers. " On belay! " yells one. " Climbing! " responds the other, more distant voice, higher up the wall in my sleep. We feel as if the park service is trying to burn us out. As we make the mindless loop, again, fires burn on both sides of the road, ruining the air quality and throwing yet another bit of chaos ( which we eventually came to call Jingus ) in to our quest.

We both ask aloud, " what the hell are these idiots thinking? "We are trying to climb here!"

Controlled burn in Yosemite Valley

Day 4

We get to Sickle Ledge and set up our portaledges. We are now committed to the wall and will not come down unless we have to.

Micheal starting the traverse to Sickle Ledge

We now realize that many of the faster parties are skipping much of the climbing by " cheating " by pulling on bits of rope left hanging from bolts to bypass the original difficulties. In a game with no rules, where the ethic is basically that what happens between belays is nobodies business but the climber, this still strikes me as a certain level of bullshit. We are trying to climb the actual route, from the ground, with nothing but a topo map to guide us.

Fellow travelers on the high seas of granite cruise the fixed lines.

We meet a team of mostly female climbers who were super nice. They were moving faster and with definitely better fashion style than my climbing partner and I. We exchange hoots and hollers with these fellow travelers and wish each other success. Another team came through, in stark contrast to the team of ladies, These guys were rude and obnoxious and climbed in a sloppy style above us that made us nervous that the guy might actually fall on us. We nicknamed him " Doofus Beefcake ".

He was one of those people that had a good face for comedy as he sorted just looked dumb and not thoughtful about anything.

If people are going to watch you do your thing, dress to impress.

I think right about then was when I began to realize that my partner looked very much like the author of the route: Warren Harding himself.


Warren Harding aka" Batso "

Mike Memmel

“With Warren there was no turning around. He had that kind of total dedication that takes you to the top.”

Micheal and I shared a mutual inspiration in the author of the climb. He was a proud visionary. Read about Warren Harding here. Our time on the climb would require Mike and I to have total dedication that was likely but a shadow of that required to establish this path.

Day 5-- The push from Sickle Ledge to Dolt Tower

We notice a trend. We are using rope buckets to keep everything straight and organized. It works great on paper and the bucket makers make buckets in all sizes. So, you stack the two hundred foot ropes inside these buckets, and everything is mellow until a certain point is reached where the weight of the rope hanging out of the bag gets to be so much that it begins to pull the rest of the rope out, then you hear this sound that is like a dog dragging its itchy ass across the carpet, and then the rope jumps out of the bag and begins to unravel at warp speed forcing you to desperately grab it and restack it again.

I'm trying to not curse, so I shout " Jingus H " instead of " Jesus H "

" What is Jingus? " Mike asks.

" Jingus is chaos. Tangles our stuff. First name Cluster, middle name rhymes with duck. Mr. C.F. Jingus to you! " I'm getting flustered as I stack the rope again. I try to mirror Mike's ' can do `attitude and I fix the pitch above Sickle Ledge so we have a new high point in the morning. Michael seems happy that I am free climbing. Nothing else happens, except I dropped Mikes spare pulley, which sort of makes him tense. He is completely different from me with all his gear marked so it doesn't get mixed up with my stuff. At the end of a climb I dump all my unmarked gear in a pile and let him take what he thinks is his. It's just stuff to me.

Me leading the pitch above Sickle Ledge, rated 5.9+, or C-whatever.

Day 6ish

This might be the first of our all nighters. At some point the haul system got jammed and we were faced with being stuck.

I had led a pitch and was hauling when the rope stopped moving in the pulley. The Full Moon was out and I hear Mr Jingus whisper, " Hey you idiot, you better back those bags up, as your shit is stuck. " I tell Mike what's up but he is still cleaning the pitch below me, and not able to assist just yet. I make a rooky error and I actually open the main carabiner holding our giant junkshow on the wall to place a back up sling. It was hard to open and harder to close. I realize that I just about dropped the haul bags, the now almost one thousand feet, to the ground. One simply does not open a weighted carabiner. But I just did.

A tiny frog hundreds of feet up El Capitan watches the drama unfold with our stuck bags,

" Holy shit Mike! "

Somewhere in the air behind me, or in that void between my ears I hear Mr. Jingus laughing. He is very amused. We slapped together a new haul system out of spare parts, use a hammer to unjam the doomed Wall Hauler and, six hours later we finish the pitch. The stars fade from the sky and the sun rises. We are coming in hot to Dolt Tower and decide a rest day is in order.

The post mortem report on our haul system failure showed two fatal problems: our zed chord for the 2-1 was so small in diameter it was ruining the double pully, and the Wall Hauler was not able to handle the side loads caused by our heavy bags needing to be lowered out on the traverses. We feel as if we had handled a potentially dangerous situation smartly and that Mr. C.F. Jingus could go piss up somebody else and their rope.

Jingused climbing equipment ruined in the cracks

That night I think about the many hundreds of pieces of climbing equipment jammed in to the cracks. In some stretches the cracks have gear very deep inside, so far beyond use its unimaginable how it would get there. If one were to pick El Capitan up and shake it out upside down thousands of pounds of gear and rope would excrete out, abandoned to the worry and financial stress of past climbers.

It occurs to me that all debris of humans is natural. So the stuck gear inside the cracks stands as relics to struggles of others who had gone before, but the trash and empty water bottles left by Doofus Beafcake and his consorts on Dolt Tower could not remain as a testament to modern mans trashy nature. I drank the remaining water stash and took the empties with me, now feeling something closer to scorn for Mr. Beefcake.

Day 7

Sickle to Dolt Tower.

This day begin with what would become a trend which was sort of starting late. We had been up late dealing with the hall bag the night before, and so we were very tired. Plus, some fast-moving guys from Chile came through playing some interesting reggae, so we watched them move through. They were very professional and fast. I joked with them in what little Spanish I know.

Organized climbing gear on Dolt Tower.

Dolt Tower is a very large flat platform where two people can comfortably set up their camp, which for us involved hanging beds called Portaledges. We were now approximately 1,000 feet above the valley floor and the fires had lit some tall pine trees which burned throughout the night like candles from the trunk to the top of the tree. That was the last of the smoke for us as the fire burning was over.

Thunder clouds on the way to El Cap Tower

At some point we moved to the next higher ledge, moving from a slow pace to an " oh-my-God-hurry "pace as thunderclouds rolled in and it threatened rain. It's called El Cap Tower. The Texas flake sits right above, looking like forty feet tall ( more like one hundred and fifty ) and the infamous King Swing above after the fun and easy Boot Flake pitch. We are now feeling like terrestrial astronauts, way up high in space, and at the same time looking like coal miners with our headlamps, helmets and dirty faces. I get to lead the Boot Flake and get the replica of the famous picture of Mike lying on top of the Texas Chimney.

2/3rds of the way with Mike lounging on the top of the Texas Flake.

Our next push may involve a long day and a hanging camp that is very hard to set up and tear down so for the second time on the climb, words are exchanged. At some point in a thing like this you are yelling at each other, and it usually involves having to hurry or having to wait. We reset after a tough day and somehow, this exchange creates a new dialog between us and we move up a better team for it. Perhaps we just feared the rage we had momentarily invoked in each other, and so tried to keep that in the bag.

The stretch from El Cap Tower to The Grey Bands involves the last of the pendulums and traverses, which are time consuming and complicated. You have to lower the heavy bags out to a plumb line with the haul point above, clean the gear the leader left, usually go down and unstick the bags, and you end up at a windy spot in the middle of broken rock with no good place to stand or unpack. The later it gets the longer things take as the energy is diminished. We keep thinking we'd have time to eat and consume water, but more often than not we were climbing hungry and pressed for time.

It was my turn to lead and it was almost full dark. I look to the sky, expectant to see a moon glow rising over the Cathedral Peaks, but that will not be for another two hours, so I set out. The topo calls for a long lead on my pitch 15, finishing with an innocent looking lower out to a ledge where we expected to be able to set up our camp. The ratings suggest an easy passage but in the dark, it gets confusing as to which way to go. Usually you follow the cracks, and this is the case, but its dark and I can't see the next placement without getting way up high, which is physically taxing.

I pause in the middle of my lead and consult a paper topo map.

Pitch 15 detail

I see a set of bolts, and the tired part of me wants to stop there. Mr. Jingus suggests this is a great idea. " Look, you dumbfuck, you are supposed to go left. You don't know what you are doing or where you are going." I start to move up and left, ( aware that this negative voice might be my own internal voice ) but a large spider steps towards me as if to block my path. " Go right, stupid, " I imagine the itsy bitsy spider saying. I listen. Bugs are buzzing my face, flying up my nose. The unfortunate ones who go for glory inside my mouth are spat out in a ruin of large wings. My nose is dry. I expel unspeakables out each nostril and collect my courage to head up and over some small roofs where a bolt finally awaits me. My water is running low and my throat is dry. I am thinking my climbing harness and clothes are stretching out, as my pants want to fall off, but my feet are screaming as my boots feel like they have shrunk. It turns out I lost sixteen pounds over the course of the climb.

A not-so-itsy-bitsy-spider

At this point both Mike and I are in constant pain. His elbow is swollen. My left knee is singing. Our cuticles and skin have become cracked and bleeding and even touching our selves to scratch an itch causes us to draw a sharp breath and comment something like, " holy shit, everything hurts ". The gear we use to move up seems to catch on everything making every step up a challenge to just stay untangled. Yet, we are far from the top and in the moment of climbing upwards, the leaders pain fades. The belayer may moan below in inescapable agony. The hips hurt from hauling. The thighs are squeezed by our harnesses. The tops of my toes are actually rubbed raw and bleeding, but I don't feel anything when its my turn to climb.

Ouch

I call for tension and have Mike take my weight on the lead rope. He is far below but our voices carry well now that the wind is still. A Fool Moon now helps light my path and I have him lower me down about thirty feet. I call for him to stop and I try to use friction to ooze across the wall to the left where I can see a small ledge. I slip and swing back to the right, turning my body to bounce off a left facing corner with my feet and protect my vitals. I realize that I must actually run back and forth in the dark to gain momentum, and worse, I am too low on the rope. I use rope ascenders to climb up five feet and start swinging side to side. A few grabs at an edge and by pulling with all my might I sort of flop over the edge and get to what will be our camp: a six inch wide sloping shelf that was tough to balance on. It was not listed on the topo but felt like free climbing to me and took all my experience and strength and straight up denial about the now almost two thousand feet below my boots to get it done. I sometimes tell myself, " if you fall fifty feet you will die, so what is two thousand feet? " The answer is of course: semper mortis.

We set up camp with the promise of no four a.m. alarm clock from Mikes phone.

Portaledge camp near Eagle Ledge in the Grey Bands

Day 8 The Headwall

We rested a bit and fate had it that after Mike led us to the Great Roof it was dark again, and my turn so I started up in to the famous arch by headlamp. Next is the Pancake Flake, which is easy, as long as you have forty camming devices in the .75 size, which of course you do not, so I move up laboriously having to make a half dozen pieces work for protection. We near Camp 5 and for the first time, getting to the top in one push seems possible.

Rest day view of The Great Roof.

We are really tired. No choice but to get some rest and start early. I was feeling every one of my 52 years. I had now reached the point in the climb where I had been before, twenty six years ago. As Mike led the Changing Corners pitch I was able to give precise beta on what size gear to use and when he would find it and where to cut right. Even though the climb goes over literally thousands of moves, many of them were burned in to my mind from 1996, to the point where I could have organized the protection gear to be used in close order.

We discussed the best plan, and I was forced to admit that the best plan was to turn over my defacto position as leader of this expedition to Mike and I asked him to finish the climb by leading the last six pitches. I had been there, done that, and I had little juice left to do it again. I went in to support mode and aside from one snag with our haul bags the rest of the headwall went down without complication.

With Michael there was no turning around. We had to have that kind of total dedication that takes you to the top.

Pigs in Space.

The last pitch, the bags swung out away from me, now with the moon in the background. By the time we both had the high point and the bags were up, the sun was rising. I was again broken. I was so tired I could barely move, and the ropes tangled one last time. I just want to lay down but we still had to get our bags up and over the top.

I look down to try to see other climbers below us, but now they are the dots of color lost in the folding waves of granite. Below us, instead of above.

We are kings.

We were quiet. The other climbers on our route far below us now were so small they were but dots of color and spots of light, lost in a ocean of stone now the color of cream soda. With my grey wind jacket and the white ropes piled on my shoulders I sort of looked like some mythical sea creature with two jutting headlamps for eyes, swimming up out of some deep water. This part of the climb was over and I now stood at the top of the most famous rock climb in the world. What should I feel?

I felt, unlike the first time, like we had legitimately earned it.

I made it up once before, but it had felt like luck somehow. Like I had barely made it, ability wise. I am a better climber now, yet more frail. I did not suffer irrational fear. I knew when to be cautious and when it was okay to take a fall, and I did once, on terrain many would find easy. It wasn't easy for me. I got back up and figured it out.

It felt like Mike and I could endure anything. I could count on him completely, but I did speak to my wife once near the last day, and I may have been somewhat emotional as I described to her my pain and fatigue.

In this sterile society it is hard to cultivate real relationships. I am confident that Mike and I will always be friends.

The summit selfies are somehow perfect, even though they are blurry.

Getting down off a big climb is the worst.

You are beyond tired, yet must strap on obscenely heavy loads and march. Then rapell. Then carry over loose rock. Then hike.

I was looking forward to getting back home and taking care of my body and the rest of my life. My marriage and family seemed more important than ever, yet I'd be a liar if some part of me wasn't laying plans for something again.

It was not about rock climbing. I never set out to be anything. I want to experience what Mike and I experienced up there again some day, maybe. We were riding a dragon on a giant stage and got so far gone physically and emotionally that the average person would never be able to understand, and in getting there discovered that we were made of the right kind of stuff. We came up and did not come down on a massive climb that sees at least 50% of those who attempt it retreat. We both know now that we can endure more pain than most, and can call forth energy from ourselves where the average person would lay down and gladly die.

We are not twenty somethings. We are grown men with families. Both Mike and I feel like congratulations are not what is best. What is best is to hopefully inspire you to throw yourself at hard things while you still can. Great rewards come at a great cost.

We laugh at those who say something like, " Nope! You'd never see me up there! "

Why?

Because the mountain says no to you.

The last minutes on the wall.

In order to have a perfect climb it has come to my realization that the bills must be paid at home and the spouse and family must be not only content but wanting you to return. The climb must always involve taking care of home and ourselves and our loved ones as much as it involves success and moving upward, and that then, was the big difference between this return to El Capitan and my first time: I realize that family is the most important thing of all.

The rock and vegetation has changed up there, and it is not how I remember it, but I could say the same thing about my body.

I don't recall succulents and desert grass growing in the cracks. People think of Yosemite as a forest but that wall definitely feels like a desert wall, and I'm not sure if that was this experience or if it's climate change or whatever.

My next crux of my lifes climb might be to use these strengths and courage that I've earned to right the things that are wrong about my life.

We all have our stuff that we carry.

I'm curious as to how it will all turn out.

The Top.

It is one hour past dawn when I finally am on horizontal ground and free myself of the harnesses and slings.

I make a quick meal of freeze dried lasagna and lay down in the blazing sun. I know I am going to sleep, like it or not. I manage to eat every drop, I cover my face with a sweaty shirt and I'm aware just enough to cover my hands too, so I don't burn in the sun.

I drink some electrolytes and right as I slip away, Mr. Jingus shows up one last time, except now I believe it may be the spirit of Batso, Warren Harding, himself.

" You guys did good. You made it. I tried to fuck you up a couple of times, but, it was all in good fun. You can go ahead and have a victory beer. In fact, get a whole case. She will never know. "

I look away.

" Semper farcissius? " he asks.

"You bet. Always. "

Back at the road. I leave Mike at the Manure Pile Buttress and slog to my truck. People are gathered in the meadow watching the climbers.

" You lost ? " one of them asks.

I am almost incoherent. My attention is divided between them and the lights high above. El Capitan never looks bigger than when you've just got off of it.

" I forget where I parked. "

They sort of laugh, and I walk down the road in an awkward shuffle then I realize that my truck is not responding to my key fob so I turned and Shuffle back the other direction past them and at this point I realize that the people think I'm drunk.

If only they knew.

I see them looking at me and joke, " I'll figure it out! " and I walk the extra quarter-mile back to my truck. Sure enough, minutes later a Ranger shows up asking if I'm alright, acting like he wants to search me.

" You are walking kind of funny. "

I sit down in my truck and slowly remove one of my boots and socks. It's a slow, painful process.

The tops of my small toes are rubbed completely raw and I have blisters on the tips of several toes. I would be unable to put on socks again for two days and the ranger did not give me a field sobriety test after seeing my feet.

Thanks Mike!

And to those who wish to be unnamed.

Addendum.

Big Wall Climbing 201

" if it's not clipped in, it's gone. "

Not big wall theory: big wall fact.

Items we dropped included a pulley. A large rope bucket. A small wall bag. A days supply of food. A package of trail mix. One brass stopper. One nut tool. One carabiner. My haul bag docking chord.

If it's critical, take two. We destroyed one complete hauling system.

Not big wall theory: big wall fact.

You have two choices on The Nose: fast and light or heavy and slow. Those taking four days or so were cruising most 5.10 free climbing. Those climbing NIAD ( Nose in a day ) are 5.11+ free climbers and usually have done the route six or more times.

You will fail if you do not bring enough water, and other parties WILL slow you down unless you are flying by them.

Not big wall theory: big wall fact.

Two gallons per man per day is realistic consumption. Every team we saw bail bailed because of water running low.

Special Projects

2014-08-29T09:59:00.001-07:00

The new Provo Temple has bronze gutter and downspout brackets supplied by our company.

We have been involved with some pretty awesome projects. Some, like the Provo Temple above, we supplied the hand crafted decorative hangers for the downspouts and gutters. We have three arms to our company; Rain Water Systems is a water conservation business combining gutters, cisterns and landscaping. A.B. Raingutters installs wild and elaborate copper gutter systems and A.B. Companies supplies specialty hardware to other companies, like Utah Tile and Roof who is doing the roof and gutters on the temple.

How do we make the hangers and cast the metal?

We use a sand casting method where an impression is made in a heavy oil sand and the liquid metal is poured in to fill the void. I use different foundries for different size orders and can make original one-off items or reproduce historical hardware and brackets. Many of the weather vanes I make are carved in wood and then cast in bronze. It's fun and artistic and a super niche market as sweat shop imports sell for 1/10th of my handcrafted pieces.

Some project highlights:

The Paradise Garden Rain Water Harvesting project. Nestled in a quiet corner of Trabuco Canyon was this magical horse property.

I got invited to Hawaii to install some copper gutters by the owners of The Castle in Hawaii. Hopefully the island Gods steer the lava away as the cottage I put the gutters on and the castle are currently at risk.

One of the oddest locations I got to work was a movie set. It was for a Christmas special. The script involved this guy running up these ornate gutters. So, a facade was erected, I did my thing, they faux weathered and aged them and the scene was shot. The whole street was there and gone in three days on the Disney Ranch n. of Los Angeles.

The Long Beach City College

I did all the copper gutters and re did the spheres and weather vane. It was almost nine feet tall and I was pleased to hear onlookers say they thought it was an original. This was the project that got me making weather vanes as I could not buy one big enough that was similar to the sketch the designer made. So...I made it from wood carvings and copper sheet metal.

I was lucky and got invited to do two large homes in Las Vegas. Good times were had by all.

One of my clients is Andrew Merrick of Aquatech Raingutters. He installed brackets and leaderheads on the " Baby Dell " that I produced. It's on Coronado Island and the ornate hardware has never looked better.

Paradise Gardens was on one of the most beautiful properties I had ever seen. There were raised garden beds fed by rain water. The lady was a sweet as any one I had dealt with in my career. Definitely the most beautiful rain barrel ever;

Lastly; the systems in Rwanda. Using my skills I was able to be blessed by turbo charging the rain water harvesting program through No Thirsty Child.

I'm heading back on October 15th 2014 to expand the team in to North and East Rwanda. This is a volunteer mission depending on donations for project funds. As you can see from here, we have a long way to go.

One of those inspirational quotes I like; " Keep calm and walk through the fire".

General info about rain Water Harvesting

2014-08-19T21:20:00.003-07:00

Links listed here will help provide knowledge about rain water harvesting.

I am pleased to be amongst the leaders of Rain Water Harvesting in Southern California. Please take a moment and review part of my portfolio of completed projects.

Check it out here.

Please view The Cycle of Insanity video. When I show people this video and explain how much water they can collect their jaws drop. The way we manage our resources is insane. Harvesting rainwater is an easy and realistic way to conserve water in Los Angeles. There is plenty of rain. If one thousand feet of roof area were collected in Los Angeles that would yield 8,700 gallons per year with our average of 14" per year.
Rain water harvesting combined with grey water systems and Xeriscape Gardening can reduce outdoor watering to zero.
TO SEE THE AVERAGE YEARLY RAINFALL IN YOUR CALIFORNIA CITY, CLICK HERE.

Number geeks and grid techs may enjoy this, but when I meet with a client the first thing I ascertain is how much space they have for above ground storage. Below ground is an option, but generally costs triple and involves permits from the government. Sometimes we can capture waste water from the clothes washer or water filters ( gray water ) and run that into the same cisterns that collect the rainwater and run a line back into the house to power a toilet.

One of those questions we must ask ourselves is why are we flushing human waste down the drain with potable water?

Drought

Many parts of the United States are in (or are about to enter) a drought period, facing possible water restrictions. The government will use the excuse of a drought, real or imagined, to raise your water rates. In February 2009, the Governor of California ordered that mandatory water rationing and mandatory reductions in water use may be introduced. Governor Schwarzenegger called for a statewide water reduction of 20%. I suspect that even after the record snows and rains of 2010-2011 the buzz will be that there is a drought. If you take the time to watch the video above you will see that the real problem is lack of planning and knowledge about water conservation.

One of the things you can do is STOP PAYING THEM FOR WATER THAT YOU OWN, THAT FLOWS OFF YOUR PROPERTY.
Rain tanks, or rain barrels, collect fresh rain water from the home roof and store it for times of drought. Modern rain tanks are sealed from light, animals and vegetable matter so the water stays clean for months.

Proponents of global warming warn that weather patterns are already changing and traditional rainfall levels are expected to drop in many areas.

Green Living

Green living is now becoming a way of life for a majority of Americans. People are conscious of their 'carbon footprint' and are seeking methods to reduce the future impact on the environment and climate. 20% of California's power consumption is used to collect, transport and treat water.

In areas of major urbanization the environment is suffering from increased run-off that cannot soak naturally into the ground. As a result, aquifers are not filling at a rate fast enough to restore their pre-urban levels.

Saving Clean Water For Drinking

Water is a limited resource and the cost of its supply is certain to rise in the next few years. Most major water collection and distribution projects in California were completed over fifty years ago and no new major rainwater catchment projects are planned. Water restrictions are nothing new in California, but since the last major drought in the early 1990s, the state's population has grown by 9 million to a total of 38 million. In a press conference on March 12, 2009 the governor plainly stated that, with increased demand and limited supply, Californians can expect to pay more for water in the future.

But why use good drinking water on the garden or to flush toilets? Over 40% of water supplied to most suburban households is used on the garden. This is not the best use of a product processed for human consumption. Besides, most plants enjoy the slightly acidic and soft qualities of rainwater.

Bushman rainwater harvesting tanks maintain a high quality of rain water with gutter guards, insect filters and first flush devices that divert the first rains of the season to the drain. All tanks are opaque and do not allow the growth of algae. Tanks are made or lined with food grade quality polyethylene.

Design

You can easily find a water tank on the web today made for agricultural or commercial customers. These tanks are generally too large for residential use and typically come in black, white and dark green. Bushman specializes in slimline tanks that fit under the eaves of the house and come in over six color choices.

Alternatively you can pick-up a rain barrel at the local nursery. While these may look great under a downpipe in your garden, they typically store no more than 60 gallons, which is inadequate for most garden sizes. We recommend a minimum of 300 gallons of storage, purpose built to collect and store clean rainwater. Also beware of recycling old plastic containers to rain barrels as they may have been used to transport harsh chemicals for their original purpose and could leech poorer quality plastic.

Because of contamination on the roof the first volume of rain should be diverted from the storage tank.
Detailed information on First Flush Devices can be found here.

Local Restaurants; Grow Your Own Herbs!

2013-06-03T13:29:00.002-07:00

There is no better tasting herbs and salads than organic, locally grown edibles. Very few restaurants have zero space to grow herbs outside. Most chains load their green space up with water abusive lawns and tropical vegetation. Why not consider growing fresh herbs and salads on the grounds of the eatery?
It's a growing trend. It's green. It's fresh and it can give your establishment an edge over the competition.
What if we enlarged the scope of our operation to install and maintain organic herb gardens at local restaurants? We have a network with local garden consultants such as Bruce Stephens that could provide knowledge and assistance. I can imagine that the staff at restaurants are too busy to maintain these gardens, but the idea is sound.


A Boston eatery grows fresh herbs seasonally using drip irrigation.

" Fresh culinary herbs have become an important part of southern California's cuisine. Restauranteurs are interested in enhancing the flavor of foods without increasing the foods' caloric, sugar, salt, and cholesterol contents. Local restaurants have led the way in developing and popularizing the use of fresh herbs. This shift to natural flavor enhancers is in keeping with today's lifestyle of healthier, lighter meals. "

Some interesting facts from a 1991 California University Survey;
A minority of restaurants (15.6%) would like to attempt to grow most of their fresh herbs.

Asian restaurants' median weekly purchase (3.8lb. and $37.50/week, both summer and winter) is less than for all other restaurant types. Mediterranean restaurants' expenditure on fresh herbs exceeds that of all other restaurant types ($200.00/week, summer and winter). Mediterranean restaurants purchase a median quantity of 11 lb/week year-round, or spend about $10,000 annually on just fresh herbs.

San Diego and Southern California have an ideal growing climate year round and get more rain than is commonly believed. With the growing trend of shunning GMO crops and favoring locally grown organic food
it seems like common sense to incorporate this practice and make it part of the marketing approach.

Imagine, fresh herbs and salads, grown onsite and irrigated with rain and reclaimed water.

We envision roof top container gardens providing fresh edibles in downtown locations. Patio seating lined with herbs that are harvested daily and consumed and used as garnish. There are attractive architectural designs that can do more than consume space; they can produce food!

With the super expensive water rates why not divert some of the rinse water into a tank and use it to water the edibles between rains? We not allow us to create and maintain edible container gardens in patio seating areas? In this challenging economy I am always seeking paths to revenue streams and this idea came to me as I thought about genetically modified foods, organics and the tough times many small restaurants face as people flock to chains. All businesses need an edge. Grow yours.
Link to California University study: http://californiaagriculture.ucanr.org/landingpage.cfm?article=ca.v045n01p4&fulltext=yes

Rain Tax?

2013-03-11T17:18:00.002-07:00

Believe it or not a battle to stop a " rain tax " is going on just past the Orange Curtain to our direct North. A plan to charge as much as one dollar per gallon of storm water run off is being proposed by the county of Los Angeles. A parking lot of a Walmart exceeds 100,000 square feet, which yields 62,400 gallons per inch of rain. If they were not regulating their rainwater runoff to official guidelines that parking lot would generate $624,000.00 a year in fines based on an average rain year in Southern California.
It's as crazy as North Korea announcing recently that they were going to nuke us.
Apparently governments act by threatening as much force as you could imagine, say a nuke, or a dollar per gallon rain tax. Can education stop this aquaclypse?
Instead of threatening business killing taxes to penalize what is essentially poor civic engineering, why not spend money promoting changes in landscape designs that funnel the storm water back into the ground, instead of along to our oceans, full of cigarette butts, garbage and a toxic tea of urban runoff?
Educating landscape architects to work in coordination with civic engineers to totally rethink rainwater and storm water management combined with common sense funding would both spur an economic boom and help solve the problem of urban runoff and ground water depletion. By having construction companies cut bio-swales into streets and curbs in existing infrastructure, million of gallons of water will revert back where it belongs, which is in the ground. Making education about the benefits and capabilities of rainwater harvesting part of government spending will help make rain and grey water use widespread. I believe it should be even mandated in new construction.
If Los Angeles is able to pass any type of a rain tax other cities will follow their lead.
Any new tax, fine or operating cost placed on businesses will be passed on to consumers, or the businesses will cease to exist because they cannot pay the increased demands of the state. The government is saying, " now you got this nice company here, we gotta tax you for the water tax runs down our street when it rains. "
I mean, shouldn't they just follow Arizona's lead and get serious about rainwater harvesting?
Rainwater harvesting isn't just about rain barrels, its about the way cities manage storm water. The civic engineers created urban environments where water is not allowed to soak into the ground. The government agencies signed off on it and now they want to tax us for what is essentially ignorance about the way rainwater should be managed.
The system we have depletes the aquifers, which allows salt water from our nearby ocean to seep in, which makes the plants not grow, which makes food more expensive.
If only I could get people to watch this video. It would help to end The Cycle Of Insanity, and perhaps lead people to consider having a Rainwater System on their home.

The Cycle of Insanity: The Real Story of Water from Surfrider Foundation on Vimeo.

Supporting links;
http://www.altadenablog.com/2013/03/superviso.html
http://www.lacountycleanwater.org/

The Home Of The Future

2013-02-15T17:09:00.001-08:00

The ideal home of the future, especially in Southern California will be a micro-infrastructure.

The electricity will be provided for by the Sun, and the roof and home will yield enough water to provide for all the exterior water usage. The land not occupied by our homes will either not consume, or it will provide food for our families and neighborhoods.


Native vegetation is drought resistant and attracts wildlife like hummingbirds and butterflies.

The time for the ideal of the future is now.

Southern California just got hit by a water balloon, and it burst upon impact. The water supply for FOUR MILLION PEOPLE for a year just evaporated. “In the span of 92 days, we lost out on water that could have been used to supply more than four million people for an entire year. That’s a huge amount of water,” said State Water Contractors General Manager Terry Erlewine.

READ THE FULL STORY HERE ABOUT THE ANNOUNCED WATER SUPPLY CUTS

The ideal home of the future would be built on a raised foundation, such as in this example;

All the homes downspouts would lead into a cistern, that was built into the foundation of the home. The entire footprint of the home would be a cistern and the grey water from the home would be filtered before feeding into the storage. Post cistern filtration would be used to render the water potable for use in showers or for cooking and a city water feed would top off the cistern between rains. Solar panels would array the roof producing most of the homes electricity needs and the majority of the landscaping would be edible food gardens or xeriscaped or artificial grass.

In an ideal situation there would be an informal organization in each neighborhood where people discussed what edibles would be grown and how to share the food because as we all know when there is a garden, even a small one, it usually provides more food that can be eaten by one family, so having a co-op of sorts would build up the communities by getting people talking and working together. Such a neighborhood would pay little to nothing for produce, it would help to decentralize food production and the citizens would have fun!

Part of the impact in the story about the water cuts is that it will have a big impact on new home construction in Southern California because if there is no water, there can be no new building. With no construction, the economy can never fully recover. It is socially responsible to not let the water from your roof go to waste. Rain water harvesting is not just a fad or trend; it is a requirement for growth.
Wide spread use of rain water harvesting systems in San Diego and other parts of California will free up potentially billions of gallons of water per year, allowing for economic recovery and growth.

Call us today to schedule a FREE consultation.

Rain Water System Package Deal

2012-12-01T08:40:00.004-08:00

This 1,320 gallon tank kit with rainhead debris filter, first flush device, level gage, pump and fittings is only $2,200.00 with shipping, anywhere in California. A solar version of the pump is available for an extra $40.00.

You will save time and money buy purchasing this complete set up. The tank size can be scaled up or down from 205 through 2,850 gallons. Over the course of hundreds of installations of rainwater harvesting systems we have gotten our custom first flush devices down and replicable. The accessories of these kits can be shipped inside of the tanks and would freight from the Bushman factory in Temecula California.

1,100 gallon tank package, $2,000.00

Our First Flush Devices can be placed at each downspout or next to the tanks when they are placed away from the house. They are designed to help prevent sediment from reaching the tanks. They feature a cleanout and a fully adjustable drain that is ready to have a garden hose attached to drain the first flush water away from the foundation or to be used to water plants.

The accessories kit has everything you need to use the tank right away and to be ready to daisychain additional tanks. The number one complaint I hear of folks purchasing tanks from other companies is that they then have to spend hours and days chasing down the misc. fittings.

I can match any wholesalers price on tanks that are f.o.b ( picked up by the customer ) in Temecula.

Rainwater Harvesting, Wet Systems

2012-11-10T10:01:00.000-08:00

Large rain tanks and cisterns need not be placed next to the house.

It is more economical to place the tanks next to the house, but that is not the only way.

Called a wet system; the downpipes from the gutters lead underground to the cisterns that are placed in a far corner of the property. This works in the same way ancient Roman fountains work; as water always seeks its own level gravity will feed raintanks where ever they are located as long as there is at least eighteen inches of clearance between the bottom of the gutter and the top of the tank.

This method allows for more aesthetically pleasing rainwater harvesting systems. The pipes must be glued and water tight. I have taken to favoring placing first flush devices next to the tanks, instead of on the house. Here are two case studies.

This is what the client had before contacting me.

The client had simple recycled barrels she was using to collect rain. They were open topped and teeming with life. Open top rain barrels are a drowning hazard for children and bug factories. These cheap barrels also leech toxic plastic in to the water.

She had prepared compressed soil beds for the three 1,110 gallon tanks and dug her own trenches to save money.

People in San Diego in particular pay a lot for water and they tend to be aware of how much rain they have coming off their roofs.


Rain gage in Alpine, Ca in tank area before placement. Below; one of two 1,110 gallon tanks.

Rolling the large tank in; you can see a pipe trench leading across the driveway to the tank beds.

Trade secret; lever large tanks over fences with an extension ladder;


Completed set up in Alpine

Detail of custom first flush device ( placed next to tanks.

I will detail my versions of wet systems sediment traps and other debris management in a future post. Keeping muck out of your tanks and under ground feed pipes is a huge part of keeping these Rain Water Systems working.

This amazing desert garden is in Vista California and has one of the most beautiful rainwater harvest systems yet. The red pipes are the feeder pipes for this wet system. The white is the overflow.

Remember; a small 1,000 square foot home yields 624 gallons of water per inch of rain.

The Anatomy of a Weather Vane

2012-08-02T22:11:00.000-07:00

Please visit and like us on Facebook

A weather vane is a instrument that is designed to show the direction, and sometimes speed of the wind. In the proper hands they can become objects de art. A weather vane typically goes on the highest part of the building.

The Directionals are fixed with a compass as a guide to the correct geographic orientation.


Directions are the North, East, West and South pointers. Did you know that this is where the term " news " came from?

At Rain Water Systems, we know customers can buy cheap imports for a lot less than the hand crafted pieces we offer. We are not about warehousing sweatshop made junk and blowing it out for a fraction of a profit on the internet; we are into making one of a kind pieces to last generations in the tradition of European and East Coast artisans.

The Orb is a key feature on many weather vanes. These are usually large copper balls. I usually use a six or eight inch copper ball that is made in a spinning process in halves and soldered together.


Six inch copper ball

The Finial or Base is a feature I like to use to give stature and size to my weather vanes. Typically these might be 24 inches in height and have six sides;

Six sided finial/base for large weather vane

The Spindle; I like to call the base of the weather vane itself a " spindle ". There is no good reason for this. That is just what they are to me and I have no good explanation. I usually craft my spindles from heavy solid cast bronze. This piece is ten inches tall and weighs about twenty pounds; I carve the pattern from oak and then have it sand cast at a foundry. This shows the 3/4" threaded brass rod that makes up part of the guts of my weather vanes;


Weather vane spindle; placed near the bottom and very heavy cast bronze.

The Anemometer; these give an indication of wind speed. I like to think of them as " the living " part of these weather vanes. They are little copper cups with a sealed bearing and they are the only part of my vanes that are purchased;

Wind Speed Indicator, aka a Anemometer.

The Arrow; These are designed with a " sail " on the end to catch the wind. The idea is that the sail will direct the arrow to the direction the wind is blowing. I have five different arrows that cannot be found anywhere else. The sail may be out of exotic materials like gold or thin decorative stone. This example is hammered copper and is typically what I use. I confess that on my first weather vane, installed on the Long Beach City College , I didn't ' get ' how weather vanes worked and fixed the arrow so it would not turn. I was pleased to overhear people say that they thought my new creation was a original historical piece.


Bronze weather vane arrow with hammered copper " sail ".

The Rod;

This is a 3/4" brass rod that goes through the finial and into the roof. There are different ways to attach the weather vane to the structure. Ideally it is bolted into the beams with a rod.


3/4 inch solid brass rod

The Guardians; I like to put these little gargoyles on the four points of the compass. They overlook the home and stand vigilant.


mini-gargoyles

The Spike: I am found of using turned, European style spikes as a main feature. Many weather vane artists use roosters and themed elements such as boats or golfers. I wanted to do something original;

Turned style bronze Spike

Themed Element; many weather vanes feature typical decorative or themed elements. I called this one " Boy on the Moon ". I also have a Celtic horse and am I open to commissions.


Boy on the Moon, weather vane element.

I hope to have the chance to do more of these as the economy recovers. If you are looking for something extraordinary please give me a call. These are generally made at my shop and assembled at your home or job site.


Large finial and five foot spike weather vane.

To see more picture and some of my other roof ornaments please visit; the Rain Water Systems gallery.

How to Install Gutterglove with Copper Rain Gutters

2012-07-11T21:51:00.000-07:00

6" Lily gutter brackets, Cubic Leaderheads with Mission Panels, mitered ends.

Visit and Like us on Facebook

Copper gutters are not only beautiful, they last longer than any other type of material when installed properly. With the proper care Gutterglove can be compatible with ornate copper gutter systems even though the metals are dissimilar.

Rain Water Systems makes and sells the most extreme copper gutter parts you can imagine as well as being zealous about water conservation. Extreme gutters call for the very finest in leaf protection and in our opinion the top shelf product is Gutterglove.


One of a kind leaderhead at a graveyard in Hollywood California

Gutterglove is on the higher end in terms of cost, but the fact is that it will be subject to accelerated deterioration if the metals are not separated in some fashion. A internet search with the term " IS ANODIZED ALUMINUM SAFE WITH COPPER? " will yield a lot of results but the consensus is NO.

Fortunately, this is a mild problem if you have a good plan and the best gutters can have the best gutter protection. Here is how;


5" seamless half round copper gutters with external fascia brackets and Gutterglove Ultra

The first thing you need to do is remember that even if anodization creates a thin barrier between the metals you have to pierce the aluminum with screws or rivets, so no matter what you do the metals will have a contact. The key is to keep it to a minimum.
The larger amount of metal wins; a large aluminum gutter system draining onto a small copper roof will have some effect on the copper but the aluminum will not be affected much even if they are in contact. A large copper gutter system in contact directly with aluminum, such as gutter screen will corrode the aluminum much quicker than otherwise. The point is your clients expensive copper gutter systems will not be damaged by the aluminum Gutterglove, but the Gutterglove may deteriorate and that may cause warranty issues or client unhappiness. Expansion and contraction of the copper ( 1'8" per 40' in a twenty degree temperature span ) will quickly rub the anodization off the screen, no matter how thick and awesome it is.


The Gutterglove is laid on its back on our saw table.

We use 3M Temflex Corrosion barrier tape.


Pre-place the barrier on the Gutterglove and trim it clean with a razor knife.


Have an assistant pull the tape tight and press it into the corner where the Gutterglove will contact the copper gutters.

I use an oversized drill bit ( compared to the #42 rivets ) and attach the Gutterglove to the copper gutters with a stainless steel rivet. The stainless is compatible with the copper, the 3M tape wraps tightly around the mandrel of the rivet and the oversized hole reduces contact between the steel rivet and the aluminum screen.


Gutterglove is an elite product. I spare no step in doing it right.

If you have done it right the clients will have a virtually maintainence free product that you can be proud of. As always, feel free to email me or call me with questions or comments. If you are in San Diego or Orange Counties and need expert gutter beyond the average, we want to talk to you today.

See it on the News and Consumer Reports:

Synchronicity

2012-06-28T23:27:00.003-07:00

"Synchronicity is the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated or unlikely to occur together by chance, yet are experienced as occurring together in a meaningful manner."----websters dictionary.
**This post has a Pagan Blues Sound track.

Hugh Everett is famous as the discoverer of the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, which is a fascinating — although speculative — idea about how the Universe fundamentally works. Synchronicity for the individual might be that the universe expends as much energy trying to figure out how a single person reacts to their environment as a person looking up at the sky and wondering, " Who am I. Why am I here? "

A curious synchronicity for the church and the scientific community is that they both tend to work against each other, and yet validate each other other in frustrating ways. Scientist and atheist always carry insurance on their property that cover or reject acts of God. Religious scholars hurry to find allowance for both evolution and God as the Bible defines it. For an example, new discoveries of vast underground fresh water deposits are described in Gen 7:11 So, which validates which? Does the science behind the great flood prove it happened or did the Bible explain with science how it happened in the Book of Genisis?

Many of my scientific minded friends have a curious attitude about religion. In my experience, those that are sure there is no God tend to be very opinionated about it and react to people who do believe as idiots. They rely on science. If a majority of scientists are said to be for or against something, then that must be good, or bad from a logical and scientific point of view.

I admit, my turning point from one of a staunch scientific logical background to one of a believer came after I lived in a haunted* apartment. I didn't turn in to a believer in a specific religion as to one who believes in beliefs.

http://scienceblogs.com/startswithabang/2009/06/01/a-tale-of-two-slits/

* I lived in a tiny studio apartment in Santa Ana.
From the get-go, the landlady was strange. She was elderly, but acted like she had a crush on me. It was a very Hispanic area, so a lot of the locals would act like I was an interloper. They'd yell things at my car, thinking I was in the hood to buy drugs or something. Time went on and I settled in. It was a cheap room with a large yard for my dog Amra. But, there was this weird vibe, like I wasn't welcome there. I used to dream that somebody was sitting on my back as I slept. I woke up with horrible back aches. I could almost see faces peering through the curtains at night but was confident no one was there because my dog was a great watch dog. Nobody was ever there when I'd burst open the doors to the yard.
Time went on. I didn't have any believe in the supernatural so, the idea of a ghost never really entered my mind until...one day I was alone with my dog, cleaning the kitchen. They say the way to a mans heart is through his stomach? Well, it works both ways. I got a lot of attention from women by being a good cook. I was preparing for a guest and I hear my key jangle. I had this little tray where I always put my wallet and stuff and my keys where there. Then, they were across the room. Amra looked at me like, " What the...? "
So, I dismissed it. Then, some time latter I was watching television and my whole entertainment center came down rather abruptly, like it had been pushed. Time went on and eventually my friend Scotti Mars claims to have seen the shape of a man near the door. He was in to spiritualism so we smudged the place and did a brief banishment ceremony. Then, the landlady showed up one night, all done up in grotesque make up. She confessed a love from afar and like a woman possessed by some hideous spirit continued to talk nonsense. I got her to leave. The next day I put in my notice and essentially fled. About two months later the landlady was almost fatally assaulted by her daughter in that room.

What did that prove?
It proved to me that there was some sort of afterlife. Whatever was in that apartment was real, it was pissed and up to no good.

Time went on and as I read more about physics it was becoming clear that, if a man believed in something, that made it real on a quantum level. Further, there seemed to be a measurable energy.

So, essentially, according to science, if you believe in God and heaven then God and heaven is real. Just as if you believe you wink out like a flame in a breeze or will burn in hell for eternity, that will be your reality. Science has become comfortable with the notion that other universes exist and that within those universes are realities created by the people who are observing them, meaning you and me.

All of which proves, from a purely high tech state of the art quantum mechanics point of view that God is real.

People wonder about me; how does that rock and roll guy with a previous staunchly agnostic point of view come to be a missionary?
The answer is, according to science, when I decided to believe in God, despite all the flaws of man and misinterpretations of the Bible and abuses of politics, God became real and all of the things people promised came true.

There are multiple state of the art experiments that prove this to be true.

The album we recorded during this era was called " The Breaking " by Pagan Blues

Our Crisis Culture

2012-06-18T22:27:00.001-07:00

We in America live in a land of unimaginable wealth, compared to the vast majority of the world. If you have change in your pocket, you are richer than 85% of the worlds people. In Africa, the average man is lucky if he makes the equal of two dollars per day.
One of the things about us, in America, is that we tend to not be proactive about change. We only change when we are forced to.
The following quote is taken from here.
" With its naturally arid landscape, Southern California has always relied on water piped in from other locations in order to meets its demand. However, a growing population and dwindling supplies are creating a huge water deficiency. Traditional methods of tapping into new surface or groundwater sources have proven to be very detrimental to the environment, leading engineers to search for new sources freshwater. Desalination is a popular option, but it too comes with its own environmental impact. To truly create a sustainable future for Southern California, new conservation technologies and practices must be designed by engineers and adopted by the general public."

I often hear people ask about a rainwater harvest system; " what is the payback, or R.O.I ?"

R.O.I. means return of investment.

Water in San Diego where I live is cheaper than it should be, yet more expensive than almost any where else in America. I have a client in Del Mar who lives in a respectable sized house, yet far from an estate. His water and trash bill is six hundred dollars per month. That is as much as a small apartment in a state like Nevada. Or, not much more than a farmer in Rwanda makes in a year.
Yet, a rain harvest system is still a hard sell. It makes sense to him, but still seems more of a luxury to his wife, and so they have not made the purchase yet.

This 620 gallon Bushman slimline tank captures water from a one thousand square foot roof and will fill to over-flow with one inch of rain.

The major Shakeout Scenario Report states that running water may not be a part of life for many for as long as 6 months! But, because we haven't yet had that violent crisis wake up call the reaction of the average person is a large and extended "yawn." We are a crisis orientated society, and by that I mean we will not en masse make a major change in the way we think about water until there is a major crisis. At the point of crisis, rain barrels will be hard to come by or be very expensive.
Southern California may face even more extreme hardships when a large Earthquake strikes the central valleys were levies built in the 1850's keep the sea at bay. Some estimates say we may face three years without these waters if those levies fail. In such a crisis, water will be more expensive than gas.
You can't drink gas.
What we need is a complete mental reset, but alas, such a profound change in the way we think about and manage our most precious resource will not come without a major crisis.

With this post I would like to introduce a new product. It is the same filtration system we provide to the Rwandans as part of The Clean Water Initiative with No Thirsty Child. This filter can eliminate bacteria and never goes bad as long as it is maintained. It requires no power and works from gravity. The Sawyer is available through me as a kit with two five gallon buckets for $85.00. It should be a part of every families emergency water storage plan. Large rain water harvest tanks can be used in a major disaster such as The Big One to provide water for you and your loved ones.

Also, please watch and share this video;

The Cycle of Insanity: The Real Story of Water from Surfrider Foundation on Vimeo.

Making Rain Tanks ( almost ) Maintenance Free

2012-04-23T19:07:00.002-07:00

Maintenance of large rain water harvest systems is a big concern to homeowners. It doesn't need to be.

Three 1,100 gallon tanks in a " wet system " placed away from the house.

The first step in a maintenance free rain water harvest systems is a high quality seamless rain gutter, pitched carefully and fastened with solid hangers or nails and with high quality fasteners. A half round gutter is preferable because there is no flat surface on the bottom of the gutter and the water is constantly channeled to the middle of the gutter and to the spouts. Brackets from our American Half Round Gutter Collection are the strongest and most aesthetically pleasing method there is of attaching a half round gutter and stand the gutter off the fascia board just enough to allow painting without removal of the gutters.

The second step is to insist on a fine mesh screen on the rain gutter installed with the proper angle to shed debris. Gutterglove is the obvious best choice, after my almost three decades in the industry. Gutterglove actually makes the gutter stronger, as it is rigid enough to withstand the weight of a worker on a ladder. It has a heavy aluminum frame with a stainless steel mesh that can withstand more than 150 inches of rain per hour. If installed correctly on properly pitched gutters the gutters will never clog.


Gutterglove, installed correctly at the same angle as the roof will shed all debris and prevent anything from entering the gutters, even the granules from the Composition Shingles.	‎

The third step is a FIRST FLUSH DEVICE.
This device captures the first few gallons of sediment and bacteria laden rain water. They are designed to drain automatically between rains. Rain Water Systems without Gutterglove may include a first flush device with a large debris strainer. The addition of Gutterglove on the rain gutters allow for cleaner looking systems such as this and is effective enough to be considered as FIRST STAGE FILTRATION for rain gutters.


" Wet system ", aka a top fill on the set of Bushman 205 gallon tanks with a small first flush device. PVC pipes may be painted with the proper application of the correct primer.

A gutter with the Gutterglove may have a larger debris separator that kicks out leafs and twigs from the first flush device, that has a ball float. The float rises when the first flush tube is full, and then the cleaner water is diverted into the tank;


620 gallon slimline tank with large debris separator and first flush device. Solana Beach, California

The last step is to have the tanks have a float switch, or auto-fill device that ties into the city water. With this device the rain tanks are used as the primary source of water for the irrigation system and water is always kept in the tanks. Keeping water in the tanks allows the tanks to have a much longer lifespan because it is the complete drain and complete fill that eventually causes stress cracks in the plastic. With the addition of the auto-fill device your homes emergency water storage program is almost complete. You can easily have several hundred gallon of water stored in your large rain barrels for emergencies such as Earthquakes. All you need on hand in a small water filter, like backpackers use.

The first flush device then becomes the thing in the systems that needs to be maintained, and it is designed so that it is easy enough to do so. The tanks themselves should not require hardly any service.

Feel free to post questions or comments and I will personally answer them---A.B.

Home Depot Rain Gutters and the General Decline of America

2012-03-29T22:13:00.004-07:00

Some call it Vulture Capitalism.

Part of the reason why construction workers in California face a 50% unemployment rate is because homeowners turn to big box hardware stores and do home improvement projects themselves when in the good old days they would hire a contractor. I can have some compassion for the homeowners. Incessant advertizing works.

There was a term coined back in 1932 called; designed obsolescence.
That was the notion that by making a product that was inherently poor in quality, the consumer would have to purchase the product again, or replacement parts. The planned suck of the product created a revenue stream going forward.
That concept is alive and well at Home Depot. Yes, I know I risk the wrath of a Goliath by calling a mega-corp out by name. I mentioned other names but HD has personally hurt me the worst. The insult after the injury is that the quality of most goods sold there are such that I can't use them and run a business and offer a warranty.
For example; all plastics are not equal. Some become brittle when exposed to sunlight. Some expand and contract a lot.

The drain pipe sold at Ewing Golf is not the same as the drain pipe sold at Home Depot, and contractors are forced to deal with a duped public that doesn't seem to understand or care that they are being ripped off.

I my career I have removed miles of junk gutters sold by Home Depot, Lowes and other big box vendors. I have also made the mistake of running there when I was short a tube of caulking, and you guessed it, the caulking from Home Depot is the stuff that doesn't seal well.

It's a bummer when I go to a elderly couples house, as I did today, and hear them explain how they paid a Home Depot approved ' contractor ' to install a system that often costs double what a modern professionally installed seamless system costs. The so called contractors change names every few years as the lawsuits pile up, leaving the elderly couple with a damaged home that looks atrocious.

There have been a few times over the years when I have had homeowners ask me incredulously why I don't install vinyl gutters. When I explained to them that the plastic used by the mega-corps was the most reactive to the U.V. rays and becomes brittle and then warped and cracked, sometimes they wouldn't believe me. To listen to a home owner tell me how the gutter from Home Depot was just as good as the aluminum extruded from the back of my machine, or how I was really no different from the day laborers outside of the Home Depot; trying. And, why should they have to pay a fifty dollar per man per hour rate? ( right after that question the same people might ask me if I carry workers comp ) I was always polite and usually refused to write a bid for them and drove away hoping their house flooded.

I have evolved to not blame the home owner, as they are subject to flashy advertisements with catchy jingles from the well funded super stores. Have you ever noticed the ratio of orange vest workers to customers in a Home Depot? There usually seems to be three employes to every one customer. How do you think they fund that?
By selling garbage. And selling it again. And again, usually to the same duped customer.

Elbow of downspout cocked at such an angle that it couldn't possibly work.

After spending $1,100.00 ( +- ) on this system, the elderly couple is now finally turning to a licensed contractor selling seamless gutters. Their bid? $1,326.00

It amazes me to go through a place like Point Loma, Del Mar or Pacific Beach and see million dollar homes with plastic garbage gutters from Home Depot, but I do it and see it almost every day and I confess it irks me.

The elbow has no male female connection relationship so the water would spill out the pipe

Just like the over inflated housing market largely destroyed the economy in California, the big box stores like Walmart and Home Depot seem to systematically destroy small businesses and extract a maximum amount of money and get a disturbing amount of assistance from the consumers. After the small shops and contractors are gone, the Home Depots of the world are free to sell their wares ( however poor in quality ) for a premium. After all, there is little surviving competition and the public doesn't know any better, or is apathetic about the carnage being wrought and the long term damage on the marketability of their children.
I have learned its the same with the professional supply houses. For example, Service Partners owns both Rain Gutter Supply with two locations just in So. Cal and they own Masco Home Services which is one of the largest gutter garage door/patio covers and more, companies in the nation. So, the contractor who tries to start a business competes with big box fortune 500 companies for the bigger jobs and unregulated unlicensed usually illegal alien " contractors " for the flotsam and jetsam scraps left over in the residential market. Meanwhile it seems like the only regulated businesses are the very small as the big ones know how to fudge and who to payoff and the illegal ones are ignored by a mysteriously motivated government who's ways and meanings are as incomprehensible to a normal person as any lost language scratched in to canyon walls or stone tablets.
Another rather sorry example comes to mind when the president ( pick your puppet ) talks about " shovel ready jobs " and " buildings the bridges and highways ". What they leave out is that for decades the largest winner of large construction projects, and I'm talking about your roads and bridges, your dams, your airports and football stadiums, has been Skanska. A little construction outlet based in Sweden.
Maybe the work-a-day stiffs running the skip loader have a job, and that's important. But the profits go out of this country and no construction company worth less than $500 million dollars can even think about someday working up to maybe being a sub of Skanska or even bid against them.


These gutters were installed over a front step, when they began to fall off because the screws provided with the brackets were too short the 83 year old home owner slipped and cut his hand on the screen door requiring 17 stitches.

And how about that gutter screen sold by Home Depot and the others?
Debris from the roof and wind blown seeds combine to accumulate in the gutters. Eventually the gutters become a garden. The large mesh screens do not work, period. The customers have been condition to buy these, the gutter clog anyways, and the contractor who buys from the big box or big supply company is in the awkward position of having sold a product that had no possibility of ever really working?

I got called to investigate a leak in the gutters that was causing water to go inside the patio. Hello??? The rain gutter drained on to a patio that had gutter and screen. There was so much accumulated debris that the rain backed up, went in to the roof and flooded the patio room. That's a warranty issue, lol. The homeowner faced the dilemma that the patio gutter was so inaccessible and impossible to clean that she ended up with a full blown gutter garden;

The home owner no doubt paid good money for a patio cover. They never suspected that the thing would be purposefully designed NOT to function to NOT be maintainable, so that water would eventually route inside the sunroom leading to it's demolition and replacement. Who thinks up business models like this?

Looking at it another way; I am part of the problem.
When my shop was humming I wanted to buy an American made drill press but I balked at the five thousand dollar price. So I bought a seven hundred dollar Chinese made one, once a year for almost ten years, because we used to drill a lot of holes. That American made drill press? Good luck finding a new one now.
There were times when I could have bought American but didn't. Now in some cases, I can't.
So what are we doing about it now that it seems the damage has been done?

We are adjusting, waiting for the government to...equally enforce the laws. We will not hire people that can't legally drive vehicles or use fraudulent documents for taxes. In the years past, that meant we couldn't grow. Why is not E-verify the law of the land? Why is my illegal alien competition free to not have business license, drivers license, insurance, bonding, etc? Why are the biggest projects utterly locked in by massive corporations that own both the installation companies and the supply chains? How does an honest contractor function in this environment?

By buying American trucks, tools, equipment and supplies and doing the best quality work one job at a time and only hiring people that have full citizenship, even if it means we can't grow. One thing I learned in my trips to Africa is that the only way to deal with corruption is with a raised hand and one extended finger.

America will figure it out someday.

Rainwater Harvesting for 3rd World Locations

2011-07-02T15:27:00.001-07:00

Pictures may be enlarged by clicking on them. Please recommend, tweet, bookmark, follow and/or visit;

Most importantly, visit and donate to;

http://www.peacewater.org/ and No Thirsty Child

Gutters 101 in Rwanda.

Meant to be a guide for people interested in installing rainwater harvesting systems in remote locations for the use of drinking water.
OVERVIEW
Rainwater catchment is an ancient technology that can be used to gather water for drinking and other purposes. It is inexpensive, compared to well drilling. The rainfall is currently stable and predictable in Rwanda and the ability of our community to embed and interact with theirs by doing these projects allows us opportunity to establish relationships and empower them to have improved health and hygiene and assists in creating a local economy and draws congregation to the local churches and gets the different denominations to work together.

SITE EVALUATIONS

When looking at a potential site to harvest rainwater have access and safety be the first consideration. If the building is too tall the risks to members of your team getting injured are greater. If the building is set on a hillside this makes the ladder work more difficult or dangerous. Sites that are too high must be excluded from potential sites or the work must be outsourced, or safe scaffolding must be erected.

Scaffolding erected in Kirinda, Rwanda

Make a line drawing from an aerial point of view that shows the outline of the building, the dimensions of the roof area and the location of the rain tank. Consider the use of a compass ( which we didn't think to bring ) and indicate on your drawing the side of the building where the work will happen.

Along with calculations of the water yield from the roof it was recommend that we get the name of the pastor or manager, the rough amount of people attending the building and denomination. Get as many pictures as possible of where the gutters will mount in addition to field measurements. Indicate what the mounting surface may be, i.e. metal beams, logs or fascia board, etc.
Water yields are calculated by taking the square footage of the roof, which is length of eave times distance from roof edge to peak, and multiplying that by the inches of rainfall annually. One thousand square feet of roof yield 624 gallons per one inch of rain. The low end average for where we were working is 40'' inches per year, so a two thousand square foot roof with 40 inches of rain per year would yield 49,920 gallons per year on a average rainfall year, so the yields usually will overwhelm the storage capacity and plans for the overflow discharge should be taken into consideration when deciding the location of the tank foundation. The managers of the locations should be encouraged to use as much water as possible from the tanks during the rainy season whether it was used for crop irrigation or storage in containers, and be educated on the yield per day rationed out over their expected dry season. For example, assuming a 5000 litre tank was full at the start of a three month dry season the amount of water available per day would be about fourteen gallons. The formula is 1,320.86 gallons divided by 90 to equal 14.67 gallons per day for 90 days. Or viewed another way; 60 people per day could have one quart of drinking water per day for 90 days during the dry season.

To see the site evaluations put together by our team CLICK HERE.

Some questions you might answer during your site evaluations;

Is there security or secure storage for tools and equipment? Is there a place nearby to buy drinking water or lunches? Is there power to recharge batteries? If there are no roads that the truck delivering the tanks can drive be sure to arrange for extra man power to carry the tanks in by hand.

WATER COMMITTEE

Each location where rainwater harvest systems are to be provided should have formed a water committee. The committee is responsible for providing volunteers to assist in the installation. They should work with the pastors to collect as much money as possible to " buy-in " to their rainwater catchment. They should be encouraged to organize a twice yearly cleaning and inspection of the gutters to maximize the lifespan. By assisting in the installation members of the committee will have the knowledge to repair the gutters if there is a problem. Make sure they know how to use and when to clean the filtration device.

The rainwater system usually consists of; a foundation for the tank, the rain tank, gutters, pipes, wood and fasteners. Also for the water to be safe to drink a filter must be included. Materials for a system that yields as much as 50,000 gallon per year can be as little as $2,000.00, including a Sawyer type filter.

FOUNDATION WORK AND ORDERING OF PARTS

After the site has been selected and the materials ordered the first step in construction is to plan and build the foundation for the tank. Placing the tank on a raised foundation gives a gravity assist to the water pressure and allows for gerry cans or buckets to be filled easily.

Our prototype square foundation.

The foundations we constructed consisted of 2 tons of square cut stone and eight sacks of concrete. The foundation installation should be scheduled for about one week prior to the gutter installation teams arrival so the concrete has time to dry.

The Rwandans use cut rock as filler in the foundation and then the spaces are filled with concrete. Some say a round foundation saves concrete. For our first trip, a square tank foundation was chosen as it allows room for the ball-valve and lock box to have a surface on which to sit. We have since moved on to round foundations with a dedicated area for the nozzle.The advanced preparation step seems critical as the foundations need time to dry, so for maximum success, consider rotating a person or team in a head of the construction team to view, plan and order materials and initiate the foundation construction. Ideally, the foundation would be prepared and all the materials would be delivered to the sites and stored in a secure location prior to the arrival of the team members that would supervise the rainwater systems installation.

17th Foundation in the Karongi District.

PREPARING THE BUILDING

Ladder be

You may be required to trim the beams or modify the building to make the gutters possible. Try to get the locals to do as much of the work as possible so they get experience working with tools and so they feel a greater sense of ownership over what will be their rainwater system.

Beware that they will likely not be wearing safety glasses and may have never handled a power tool before; you must always be on guard to prevent an injury and have first aid items available.

Have extra volunteers on hand to be securing a ladder while somebody works on it, so to minimize injury. The ladders we used had been modified to allow access to a large overhanging roof eave and because of that they were somewhat unstable and wanted to flip. ( PHOTOTIP for working on ladders using both hands ) Designate one person to gather up all sharp metal scraps as the local children will collect anything left on the ground.

Have name tags and markers for the local volunteers so they feel like an important part of the project. Label all water bottles with the volunteers names. There should be one person who's assigned task is site security to protect the backpacks, bags, tools and cameras.

Creating a straight line for mounting the gutter;

The " Distance Beam " is installed.

You will need to create a straight line where none exists. The method developed by Bob Johnson calls for using one piece of wood to create the mounting surface and a second piece of wood to create a vertical surface, and then a horizontal fascia board. Most buildings have rafters set far apart. In many cases there is ten to fifteen feet between each beam end and this forces a continuous fascia to be installed for the gutter to have proper support.

Here the fascia board with the pre-mounted gutter brackets is being attached to the vertical runner board which is fastened to the distance beam . Beware the heavy weight of the wood and the many sharp screws protruding from the backside of the fascia.
We cut a notch into a length of drain pipe so that one of our assistants could support the weight of the fascia from the ground.

Our first location had a mixture of metal framing studs and "L" metal. The roof was very uneven. The first step was to place the " distance beams " on each end. Then a string is placed between the end beams and pulled very tight so that the remaining distance beams have a straight line to butt up to.
In this instance the metal beams could not be cut back any more and part of the gutter was set behind the roof edge, so that water would leak behind in a rain. We had to get creative and use extra lengths of gutter, split in two and used to channel the water into the gutter.

This shows a structure with tree branches for beams and rafters. We sandwich the logs between sections of cut lumber and create a larger vertical mounting surface for the fascia board.

After the distance beams are placed The next step is to install the " vertical runners ".

The vertical runners may be 2" x 4" x 10" to allow for the recommended 1/8" per foot suggested slope.

As these initial alignment steps are critical I suggest having the senior mechanically inclined person on your team perform this step. The distance beams must be both soundly attached and vertically aligned.

This building had a metal fascia and roof. We used blocks of wood to extend the gutter brackets closer to the roof edge so the water didn't overshoot the gutters.

The locals can be utilized to add re-enforcing screws after the initial alignment is finished.

I call the first boards the " distance " boards as they create the distance of the gutter from the wall and determine where the roof edge is in the context of where the gutter sits. These have the facing edge cut vertically and the back edge cut to the angle of the wall with the goal of having the new wood look like it is part of the structure of the building. The wood will be crooked, wet and heavy. As you drive a screw into it sap will leak out.

This picture shows the distance beam and vertical runner attached and ready for the fascia.

While the distance beams and vertical runners are being installed onto the building the gutter brackets can be installed onto the fascia board on the ground. Typically these brackets have three screws. The spacing formula is lineal length of gutters multiplied by twelve to produce inches, divided by however many brackets you have ( but minus two because you don't count the first and last in this math ) equals the spacing between brackets for any given length.

We used a chalk line to mark straight lines on the fascia boards and numbered each section of wood so the brackets could be spaced out and pre-installed, a task well suited to the local volunteers. When we hung the wood the gutter brackets were already on and aligned and the fascia wood itself was sloped towards the tank location. Beware that metal roofs allow the water to gain volume and if the gutters are pitched too hard or sloped far blow the roof edge the rain may overshoot.

We had good luck pre-installing the gutter brackets on the lengths of fascia board as this minimized ladder time. Reviewing spacing; We had a certain number of brackets to work with on the two locations. On the first location I decided to use 44 brackets in 78 lineal feet, so coming in from the edges of the fascia board six inches, determine the distance between the two end gutter brackets, multiple the footage times twelve to convert to inches and divide by the number of brackets ( minus two for the end unit already placed ). Example; 78 lineal feet x 12" = 936" divided by 42 equals a bracket spacing of 21.2727273 inches, or 21 and one quarter inch spacing for a total of 44 brackets that would be spread over that 78 lineal feet.

The fascia boards with the pre-installed gutter brackets can now be installed on to the building. We placed a portion of wood on the end of each sections backside, a " joiner board " on each length of fascia board that would allow the following section to be quickly aligned using the chalked line and preset screws.
This is the step where the slope of the gutter is determined. Have one of the project planers " tack " the boards in place using the 1/8" a foot or as needed for slope then have the local assistants go through and add re-enforcing screws after the grade has been established.

Demonstrate to the volunteers how it is that the ladders are to be held and insist that they never deviate from that task. A serious slash or a compound fracture is serious business in Africa and great care needs to be taken to avoid this.

Each length of fascia had a " joiner " board pre-placed on the backside so that the following section could be quickly lined up and the mounting facilitated. It is shown above as the small block directly above and to the left of the tank, on the back-side of the fascia.

We used plumbers tape as re-enforcing strap to add extra strength to the fascia board. These could in theory be wrapped around the gutter as well;

HANGING THE GUTTER

As you will have hung fascia board already with pre-aligned gutter brackets the gutter should pop right in. Each section joins together with toothed couplers and the process is straightforward compared to the challenges of alignment that come with installing the distance beams and vertical runners and fascia boards. With the fascia hung with the pre-installed gutter brackets the gutter can now be placed in the gutter brackets and on to the building. We use a plastic hammer to tap the seams tightly together.

The half round gutter is slipped into the back hook of the gutter bracket, and the the front loop is hooked over the bead of the front of the gutter. Place the outlet for the gutter as close as possible to the tank inlet, cutting the gutter sections before and after the outlet with a sawzall. If you have good luck none of the gutter seams will land on a bracket. If they do, you may have to remove the gutter bracket. The plastic is soft and unlikely to break when you are snapping the gutter into place.

The video below shows Rwandans installing the sections of gutters. You can kind of see the ladder extensions we had welded on to accommodate the larger overhang of the roof line at our second location;

After the gutters are placed into the brackets

Our first project had a very uneven roof line and because of the thick welded iron framing we could not cut the beams back very far, so the roof had to be modified, or something done to prevent the water from leaking behind the gutter. The picture below illustrates how we solved the problem of the roof edge being too close to the back of the gutter;

Sections of gutter split in half with a circular saw was used as a counter flashing because some of the water would have leaked behind the gutter as the roof line was very uneven. Screws were driven through the inverted gutter and into the fascia above the main gutter to hold the flashing in place. A glued, toothed gutter section coupler is visible.

Beware that if the fascia boards are not vertically plumb when they are hung the half round gutter will tend to twist and the face of it bending down or up effects the eye and creates an optical illusion, like the gutter is not sloping towards the drain. As much more slope is used than in a normal Western installation this is okay. Function, not aesthetics are the most important thing. A sharply pitched gutter will be less likely to clog. A clogged gutter is heavy and makes the system fail prematurely.

Each length of gutter is placed in turn into the gutter brackets with the end piece having a cap, then a coupler is used to join sections of gutters leading to the drainage location which is usually near the center of the building. The drain, or drop-outlet connects to the adjoining section of gutter like the couplers. The end caps work with compression and PVC glue. The installing of the gutter sections themselves are simple and it only takes an eye for detail to seal the seams and couplers thoroughly. No glue should be applied until all the gutter is hung and the initial water test is complete as once it is glued there are no more adjustments possible.

To test the gutters we used a 5 gallon bucket and manually dumped it in near an end cap. If properly installed the water will flow quickly out and in a few minutes the seams can be sealed. A water test is not mandatory but serves well to inspire confidence and demonstrates how the gutters work. Make sure all edges of the teeth of the gutter couplers are glued. Click HERE to see an example of an improper glue job.

All gutter material on our trip was PVC plastic from China that is light-weight and easy to assemble.

The roof was sloped high in the middle at our first location; although in the picture below it looks like the gutter slopes down four inches they were really about 1/8" per foot. We water tested this gutter and it drained dry even though the eye told us that it would hold water.

This location was difficult in part because the building was set down on a hill and the road made the gutters at perfect eye level and you could see any flaws.When in doubt, test with water. You want to make sure the gutters drain even though double the normal amount of brackets are used in these examples. These brackets were spaced about 15" apart. We opted for a tight spacing because there are many filed gutter systems that we saw with wide spacing and sometimes no glue in the seams.

Once all the gutter sections are placed in the brackets, it is time to prepare the rain tank.

We placed the tank on the foundation pad and assembled the sections of drain pipe. The pipe may go back to the wall and into a roof washer, or first flush device, or directly into the tank. We did not have access to pipe couplers so used extra elbows and cut the flanged end off and used those as couplers. We experimented with splitting a short length of pipe to use as a coupler. Other people flange a pipe end using heat but the examples I saw using this method had uneven wall thickness and the pipe appears paper thin. I recommend that pvc couplers be brought in from home with the other project consumables.

After the pipe, or downspout from the gutter is assembled ( without glue ) and routed to the tank, marks are made where in inlet, overflow and bulkhead fittings are to be installed. In hindsight I would have installed a second bulkhead fitting on the two tanks to leave in reserve as that is the weakpoint on a rainwater tank; a child can stand on and snap off the valve causing the tank to drain out.

We used holesaws to drill the three holes. It is advised to have a set of holesaws as the size of the bulkhead fittings vary and in some cases four inch pipe may be used to accomodate large volumes of water. Once the holes are drilled place the tank on it's on the ground and have a volunteer climb inside so that the bulkhead fittings may be quickly installed and a thin layer of silicone caulk can be applied around the fittings. Fumes gather in the new tanks so expedite this process and have the volunteer out of the tanks asap. Once the fittings are installed place the tank back on the foundation pad. Now the final steps can be completed.

This shows the tank with the installed bulkhead and the parts laid out in order; from the tank. A 1" male/male fitting, a banjo valve, a 1" male to female hose barb. All fittings have teflon tape applied and are tightly fitted. Inspect each component for cracks after assembly and replace if broken. Flexible hose was attached to the hose barb and a lock box was placed around the valve.

Once the rain tank is back on the pad and has the bulkhead fittings installed double check that the drain pipes are fitting correctly and then glue them.

Jados completed the installation of the downspout.

A lock box was provided for security and to protect the valves. A metal dedication placard is placed and then the filter assembly is provided.

A Sawyer filter is used to purify the rainwater in our example. A two bucket gravity fed system was provided for each location. Clean plastic buckets were somewhat hard to come by and the stands were made to fit the largest buckets that could be purchased.

Our assistant Jados stands next to the completed filtration assembly.

Other methods may involve ferrocement and manually operated first flush diverters. This guide is specifically for conditions and methods teams from Saddleback Church and members of the P.E.A.C.E. plan developed by Rick Warren may encounter in our efforts in Rwanda. It is provided publicly so that other groups may have examples and be facilitated in their efforts to provide clean water to people in need. Every minute, 200 hundred children die due to water related illness.

Special thanks to My wife and family. Larry and Carolyn McBridge, the Cass family and all the awesome folks at http://www.peacewater.org/ and http://www.nothirstychild/ and Paul Kagame.

This is a work in progress....

Rwanda trip journal, Part 3

2011-06-21T17:25:00.000-07:00

5000 litre rainwater harvest tank Kibuye, Rwanda

CHECK IT OUT

SATURDAY

This was our recreation day. The hygiene team wanted to see the two churches where we installed the rain harvest systems and then we went to the local market where the ladies bought skirts and I got a cute little dress for Avery, my daughter. I know it is nothing my wife would select, but there wasn’t much of a selection and it was only 3000 RF ( Rwandan Francs ) which is about $3.80 .

Then we took a small boat over to Bat Island, where as the name implies, there are millions of large bats. We hiked for five minutes into the interior and when our guide gave the signal we started clapping which woke the bats up and sent them into a panic flight. There were cows there; a herd of about seven. They were the healthiest cows I have seen so far. Then we went to “ Peace “ island where there is a little shack that sells cold cokes and fries. Pete and I brought travel fishing poles and cast a few times to say we have been fishing in Africa.

There are only little 4” long sardine looking fish called sombasas. I guess there is a massive methane deposit under the lake, so it is pretty much a dead lake. I heard that occasionally gas vents and people along the shore have been killed by the fumes, which is comforting as we are staying in rooms maybe two thousand feet from the shore. We met a boat load of teenage girls on Peace Island who are here from San Diego helping a pastor build a clinic.

Sambasa Boats at Amahoro Island

Tonight we will all go to a different hotel where a celebration feast is planned. Our rooms have no power or water today so I am eager for a shower and hope the power is on again soon as all my batteries are almost drained. Now, for a little shuteye before diner…

I woke up totally disorientated at sundown thinking it was sunrise and that I had missed diner. The place we went to had a buffet prepared with the usual fruits, pasta and potatoes but there was the added treat of tender beef in pepper sauce and banana bread for desert. It was outstanding.

Tomorrow we all split up and go to various churches in teams of two as guest pastors. Those who know me will be laughing out loud at that notion, but I guess it is part of the job. I will speak for a few minutes about the clean water project we are doing and Pete will handle the religious stuff. It’s difficult for me to talk out loud about that stuff. It is not a question of believing in God or not, but for me it is a personal and private thing.

For the first time I get the sense of the trip winding down. I mentioned that to the other team and they don’t feel that as they have three days of work left. I need about two hours for some detail work and testing at our two locations.

Tomorrow the plan is to go out with a local pastor to visit some other churches that may be potential locations for other systems to be installed by other teams. I love getting out into the country away from the urban area of Kibuye.

SUNDAY

Speaking in the church was no big deal. I just reprised the post I made to the peacewater.org blog. There were some other muzumkoos from Pennsylvania and that took some of the pressure off me and Pete. The pastor and his people seemed genuinely grateful for the catchment ( I am finally getting used to that term ). Then we went to the pastor’s home and unloaded some of our gift items. I have found that it does no good whatsoever for us to say to these people, “ we are coming to visit, please do not prepare any food as we know it is a big deal and we don’t need that. “ Everywhere we go they have sodas and food, even if that means they ask others from their village to bring items like potatoes and beans for them to prepare. The first pastor’s house was Pastor Valance, and he runs the church where we installed the first system. He seemed embarrassed that he had only room temperature sodas and no flushing toilets.

Then Pete and I took Jasquec and our driver to the Bethany for some cold drinks and wifi. We finished the day by visiting a man’s home named Augustine. I guess he is on staff at Saddleback as a master trainer. This was maybe thirty minutes outside town. It was almost dark when we got there and he had us walk ten minutes to a field where he showed us the location where he wants to build his church.

He had been having services there in a tarp structure but I guess the government doesn’t allow that so his flock of fifty meet on Sundays in his home. He asked us to pray for his church to have the funds to build and so we did there in the dark under strange stars and a crescent moon with the crescent in a place I normally don’t see it. The Big Dipper is upside down here.

I hope to return someday to install a catchment system on his church and hope that he gets it built.

Magical moment in a field.

I cannot say that I will ever be able to return here but I will definitely stay involved with the McBrides and assist in preparing other teams to go out and do the same stuff. Larry mentioned that he and I may return in the near future to prep the ground for other teams. That will not happen unless the church or another generous donor like Karen funds it. I guess there has been no work done while I have been gone and the situation financially will be grim when I return. The main thing has been that my career, which has up until this trip seemed like a meaningless waste of life, now has a meaning like I never could have imagined. This water stuff actually saves lives. The villagers around Augustine’s house in the field where he wants to build a church gathered around and when they were told that we are the folks that help provide the wells, the chlorinators and now the rainwater harvesting, they all cheered and wanted to touch us. This is powerful stuff. I feel that I am meant to be here.

These people astonish me; from Larry, Pete and Joel to the Africans. You can’t help but love the Rwandans and you have to try really hard to have them not love you more. When you are a person that does not have access to running water...it's like I had never seen genuine gratitude before. They were so thankful.

MONDAY

Today is the first day that I feel kind of oogy. I have no energy; it's like I have weights strapped to my arms. I hope it is just that the week finally caught up to me. I know I was bitten by mosquitoes last night as they woke me up, but that shouldn't be a big deal. I slept through breakfast. We went deep into the country to survey two churches that are potential locations for future rainwater harvesting projects. They really need the help. Both locations have roof areas of about 2400 square feet.

Using conservative numbers based on forty inches of rain a year the roofs on those churches would yield well over 62,000 gallons of water a year. RAINFALL DATA FROM HERE. The high altitude of Rwanda provides the country with a pleasant tropical highland climate, with a mean daily temperature range of less than 2° C (4° F ). Temperatures vary considerably from region to region because of the variations in altitude. At Kigali, on the central plateau, the average temperature is 21° C (70° F ). Rainfall is heaviest in the southwest and lightest in the east. A long rainy season lasts from February to May and a short one from November through December. At Gisovu, in the west, near Kibuye, annual rainfall averages 160 cm (63 in); at Gabiro, in the northeast, 78 cm (31 in); and at Butare, in the south, 115 cm (45 in). I will save the rest of the technical data for part 2 but as I stated another place on my blog they will have more rain than their ability to store it.

Now I wait patiently for my cheese burger ( which was very good ). Then Peter and I went to the market to buy our wives some African skirts. There was a man walking around with a machete, which makes both me and our interpreter nervous; too many images of bad people with sharp blades are stuck in our minds.

We did another house visit in the evening. Although we insisted that they not serve us diner there was again a full spread. It is fascinating to get inside the houses of the Rwandan people. The gratitude they have for the simple little gifts we bring is genuine.

TUESDAY

Today we wrapped up some misc. loose ends on the two churches where we installed the rainwater harvesting systems. We were expecting to go out scouting for more locations but the pastor was busy and as is often the case in Rwanda the plans we make get changed. Not much going on today. We are hanging again at the Bethany waiting for cheeseburgers.

View from the Centre Bethany

After lunch we visited two houses, I guess they are CPT, which I think stands for cleanwater peace trainer. The first lady had one of the Sawyer filters and in the three months that she has been using it to clean her city supplied water ( which must be boiled or filtered in order to be safe to drink ) her kids have stopped having stomach issues. The second home didn’t have the filter yet, but she was educated in hygiene and she was shown to us as a model of what the education does. She was tops in a field of fifteen homes. To get the honors they have to have a small vegetable garden, a covered latrine and a tippy-tap. Jasque said her kitchen set up was far better than what he had as a child. Imagine perpetual camping with no toilet paper, just grass. The houses around hers were what you’d imagine as sort of a worst case scenario, in terms of trash and general filth. Some of the neighbors kids were over during our visit and the difference between her children ( the one who had received the hygiene training ) and the neighbors was like night and day. Her child was clean, had clean clothes and was not coughing and did not have a runny noes.

WEDNESDAY-The last working day in Kibuye

I went with just three Rwandans to survey three potential locations for future projects. That was interesting. You can’t help but feel like an important person as the gifts of clean water we bring are hugely important to the Rwandans. We went to a huge outdoor market in the town of Rugenbara ( safe to assume I got the spelling wrong ) were there must have been 20,000 people. I bought a traditional Rwandan knife for $0.15. There was a mild blowing child stampede at our last stop. It was surreal.

I got a last look at one of our project sites and it was 100%, with the lock box for the tank valve, the sawyer filters inside the church and the happy children. Jasque and I took a moto-taxi ( motorcycle ) to the Bethany. That place has become a special place to me, right by the water of Lake Kivu.

We met for diner back here at Saint Maries and Pastor Augustine had nice little gifts for Joel, Pete and I. As I sit trying to document my last few thoughts on this place the Catholic girls are singing a sweet sounding song at the school below…

This has been one of the greatest experiences of my life.

Tomorrow we return to the capital of Kigali for shopping for gifts and a final celebration diner. Friday we will get up at five a.m. and drive two and a half hours to an animal sanctuary were we might get a chance to see some wildlife. There really are no wild creatures here where we are, except for birds. Whatever there was didn’t survive the genocide when people fled to the forests to escape the killers.

THURSDAY

We went for our last walk in kibuye in the morning before packing up to leave. Larry is able to win over most of the people we encounter on the road as he speaks enough of the language to communicate greetings and answer some questions. He said to an old man in kinyanrwandan “ be strong old man “ and some ladies walking next to us said to him in their language “ you said everything but good morning! ” to which he replied, “ I am sorry. Good morning old man. Be strong. “ Just that fast he made friends with everybody. They respect him. That makes him more effective.

I tried to drink in everything with my eyes one last time as we walked and I felt a little sad that my time there was ending. I don’t know yet if I ever will be able to return but I can say that I fell in love with both the people and the countryside. We got to do things no tourists ever do; go into villages far away from hotels and meet as friends in people’s houses. We were welcomed as honored guests and they served us food and cold sodas even though for them such things come at great expense to them.

On the way back to Kigali we stopped at a beautiful waterfall and some boys came out. Instead of begging they broke into a song. One played some sort of homemade violin and they sang first in English and then in their own tongue. Once again I was charmed and entranced. I couldn’t help but reach for a coin as everybody snapped pictures and the boy made the coin disappear in a flash so that none of his friends even realized I had given him money. They also received toothbrushes from one of the members of the hygiene team.

There was one more stop, at a genocide memorial at the Catholic church where the walls were pushed in by a bulldozer. I think I must save that tale for the end as we were guided this time into the memorial by a father who had lost all nine children in the war. It was a moving, powerful experience and I caught something a little spooky on my camera.

We arrived in Kigali late in the afternoon and Larry arranged a treat at an all-you-can-eat buffet in an upscale place across the street from the place known in pop culture as the Hotel Rwanda. When we first arrived in Rwanda Kigali seemed so exotic. After our ten days in the quiet and small lakeside town of Kibuye the capitol just seemed dirty and hectic. The infrastructure is…lacking. The sewer system is challenged. Pete and I shared a room and we were both out shortly after the lights went out for our four hours of rest before the last official day in Africa.

FRIDAY

We were up at 4:45 a.m. and out the door. The safari truck was waiting and part of our group piled in for a two hour ride to Akagera National Park. It was a real treat to see exotic game; cape buffalo, several types of antelope, hippos, zebras, monkeys, baboons and giraffe in their natural habitat. If somebody had said to me a year ago that I would be in a photo with a giraffe in Africa I would have said they were crazy. My friends will probably accuse me of using photoshop to drop myself into the picture.

On the way back to Kigali I stayed awake while the rest of the team on our safari slept. I wanted to look at every shack, every terraced hillside and every person with an impossible load balanced on their head one last time. Our guide on the game drive, as they call them, lost his daughter in the genocide. He didn’t want to talk about it on the way out. He said to us, “ we want to look forward, not back, “ as we drove. But after hanging out all day we invited him to share a lunch with us at the lodge. We told him a little about what we had been doing in Rwanda and he opened up. He said that he had spent five years looking for his daughter, brother and parents after the genocide. Apparently he found the people directly responsible for their deaths. He said they told him, “ you will never find them. We threw them into the river and they are probably buried in Uganda. “

We finally got back to the hotel and cleaned up and did our final packing.

Those who have encouraged me to go are waiting for the answer to the question; did I find God in Rwanda?

I would say that I was never as lost as they thought. My issue has always been with men who put themselves between other men and God like the politicians disguised as preachers and other power hungry fools trying to define something that is undefinable. The world is still poisoned and full of them. I write of the child molester protectors, the sham television evangelists and the type of people like the so called Christian priests and nuns who not only did nothing to stop the genocide but actually participated in the mass murder. I still believe that all religions bring one closer to God and that it is men who try to interfere it that journey by trying to judge other people.

I saw love of God and a positive power in the people of Rwanda like I have never seen before. I remember that night when we stood in that field that pastor Augustine wants to build a church on; we made a circle and joined hands with a group of children in the middle and we asked that he be successful in the quest to build his church. It gave me goosebumps

Did I feel the power of God?

Like a lightning bolt.

There was a powerful current of spiritual energy that surrounded us. Their conditions and their ability to be warm and loving and happy anyway made all my problems at home inconsequential for a while. We were working with people with scars from weapons used against them on their bodies and people who wore emotional scars from having lost in some cases, their entire families. These things do not make my own struggles less real, but they did demonstrate that the life you have, including the hardships and struggles, is a beautiful thing.
The Cass family can be proud of the fact that they made possible clean water for hundreds of people. I am still dealing with strange feelings. You get this strange feeling of guilt about everything we have. I felt like I was getting too much credit for making the gutter installation part happen. As we walked up to the door of Larry and Caroyn McBridge two nights after I returned for the debriefing and to see they next team off I was explaining to my wife how everything felt too easy and I wanted to get them to stop treating me like some sort of returning hero. We walked in and there was a standing O for me. It was really, really awkward. But of course, it is nice to be appreciated.

Suddenly all those people at peacewater, whom I had met before yet felt distance, seemed familiar to me. We had all shared an experience; we had went to Rwanda and been ruined. Gloriously ruined. And when I walked in for the debriefing it was like I knew everybody.

Gloriously ruined is the term for having your world view shattered. It is what happens when you are able to help somebody in a meaningful way and you ask nothing in return. It is how you feel when you go into a Walmart and what had been junky stuff before now seems like abundance and amazing quality.

A special thanks again to my wife and all those who made this trip possible.
Next up; The How to Install Rainwater Harvesting Systems in the Third World guide, er...manual. Whatever.

I am finally getting used to my new title; rainwater catchment specialist. I think when I have an office again someday the sign on the door will say something like, " structural drainage engineer . "

Part one and two of this series on Rwanda can be found here.
Gazillions of photos are linked to in a slide show below;

Rain Water Systems

Trash Island aka Crack Island aka Ship Of Fools

Babel Redux

An Old Soul

What A Long Strange Trip It Is

Wait

Night Shift

Strip Mining for Gravel

The Big Wet One

Do Not Enter Thunder Canyon Cave

The Great Sweat Lodge In The Sky

" With certain misgivings, we started moving our climbing gear, food and water to the top of the third class buttress from which the climbing would begin. " ---Warren Harding

Special Projects

General info about rain Water Harvesting

Local Restaurants; Grow Your Own Herbs!

Rain Tax?

The Home Of The Future

The ideal home of the future, especially in Southern California will be a micro-infrastructure.

Call us today to schedule a FREE consultation.

Rain Water System Package Deal

Rainwater Harvesting, Wet Systems

Large rain tanks and cisterns need not be placed next to the house.

Follow us

The Anatomy of a Weather Vane

How to Install Gutterglove with Copper Rain Gutters

Synchronicity

Our Crisis Culture

Making Rain Tanks ( almost ) Maintenance Free

Home Depot Rain Gutters and the General Decline of America

Rainwater Harvesting for 3rd World Locations

Rwanda trip journal, Part 3