The Big Dig
A team effort!
The Big Dig
After the Great Snows of Winter 2021-2022 and the flattening of our gazebo storage space, Erik and I decided it was time to build a garage. True, this wasn’t the first snow and ice damage we had sustained. Winters can be rough up here and over the years, we’ve sacrificed planters, heat lamps, patio furniture and a lawn mower, all for lack of protection from the elements. But with the gazebo down, now pricey tools and materials would be exposed. It was time to concede that we weren’t in warm, sunny Cali anymore.
We selected Tuff Shed to build the garage shell, and, because they don’t do foundations, we took on that part of the project. Various estimates for that work blew our minds and emboldened us, and so we decided to do it ourselves.
“It’ll be an adventure!” I said to Erik. What I lack in skill I typically make up for in enthusiasm.
“Let’s call Rocky,” said Erik.
How lucky were we to find Rocky? Very. Let’s put it this way: Life up here wouldn’t work without him. Rocky is the human equivalent of a deluxe Swiss Army multi-tool: skilled at new construction, remodeling, solar electric, laying irrigation pipe lines, carpentry, painting, creative problem solving—work he does every late spring through mid-autumn. He also has a degree in physics, is a drummer, a gamer, an expert skier, and a world traveler (thanks to influence of his partner, Faye Valentine (not the maga character, btw)). Mid-autumn through late spring, he’s up on the mountain, skiing and teaching people how to ski. Summers are always productive when Rocky’s around and conversations always interesting.
We met Rocky our first year up here, when we hired a local contractor, Casey, and his crew to help build Erik a workshop. At the time, that’s all we thought we needed, but as it turns out, there was more to do. Big projects like installing solar arrays. Expand the solar system and rewire the house. Build a solar greenhouse. Build a wet zone firewall. And little projects like hang doors on the bathrooms. Install backup lighting in the house for when we lose power. Install snow brakes and snow cutters on the roofs of our dwellings. And so much more. Eventually, as demand grew in the area for his team’s services, Casey tapped out. But Rocky elected to stay on.
“So what’s the list for this summer?” It was Rocky’s first day back after winter, and after hugs and coffee provided by Erik, the three of us stood outside, sketching out the game plan.
“First, install heat pumps. Then, build the garage foundation,” said Erik.
“And after that’s done, finish painting the exterior trim on the upper floors of the house and cabin; and then build the front patio; and then paint the indoor entry area; and then build the covered walkway to the greenhouse for snow-free access in winter,” I added.
“There are even more ‘and thens’ if weather and budget allow,” said Erik. Rocky looked a tad concerned. “But don’t worry; I’ve got a prioritized list.”
“Okay!” I said. I’ll leave the planning to you two. Meanwhile, I’ll get back to work and bring in some bacon to grease the bank account for all of these projects!”
I stayed out of the way while Erik and Rocky tackled the heat pump installations, for which they had planned and prepped last summer. But when it came to building the foundation, I wanted in. Because we were going to need an excavator. And I wanted to use it. Not that I actually knew how to use one , but I was pretty sure I could learn on the job (see note above about skill vs. enthusiasm).
Daily, after Rocky arrived and Erik handed us coffees, I popped the question: “Time to rent the excavator?”
“Not yet,” the two men chorused, until one Wednesday they looked at each other, Erik nodded and Rocky said, “Yeah. I think we’ll be ready to start on the foundation Monday.”
“WooHOO!” I responded. “What do we need?”
“Mid-size commercial excavator with a 40-inch muck, a 16-inch tooth, and a 24-inch tooth. That should do the trick,” said Rocky.
I jotted this down word for word. “Great! I’m on it!”
Then I paused and asked, “By the way, what’s a muck? And a tooth?”
Breaking early from work, I headed down the mountain and over to an equipment rental place near the river. Donning my face mask, I stepped into the shop proper and rang the bell at the counter. A tall lanky young man whose embroidered name patch read “Alec” stepped out from a back room and asked perfunctorily if he could help me.
“I’m new to shopping for heavy equipment,” I said, hoping to disarm Alec with my straightforward admission of ignorance, “But I came with a list. I need to rent an excavator. With some attachments. Can you help?”
I slid the list across the counter. “Yep,” said Alec after scanning it.
He explained daily and weekly rates, the cost of delivery and pickup, and the requirement that I return the equipment with a full tank. I elected the weekly rental and agreed to the fees and the fueling, Alec wrote up the contract, I swiped my credit card, and that was that. I felt slightly guilty, though: Who would have thought it would be that easy to get one’s hands on the really big power tools, especially with no proof of expertise?
“We’ll have the machine up there first thing Monday morning,” said Alec.
“Thank you so much,” I said. I was still a little dazed by the ease of the whole exchange as I left the rental office.
And I was surprised and delighted the next day when, on my trip down to the end of our driveway to get the mail, I discovered that Alec had delivered the machine two days earlier than promised. Maybe the schedule was too busy for a Monday delivery, or maybe he just figured we needed the practice. A compassionate heart beneath that all-business exterior? Perhaps. In any case, I was grateful.
Given we’d have the excavator for a week, I made a list for Rocky and Erik.
Level the eight-foot mound of dirt we’d excavated when we built the thermal battery for the solar greenhouse (more on that in another episode) four years ago.
Level the 4-foot hill of dirt we’d excavated when we built the drainage ditch for snowmelt five years ago.
Excavate to build the foundation for the new garage.
“Great!” said Rocky, looking it over. “I’ll practice on the big dirt mound first. That’ll give me a chance to get familiar with the equipment. But are you sure you want to take that down? I know how much the wildlife around here enjoys it.”
It was true. On more than one occasion I’d seen turkeys and deer atop the hill. Once, walking out to the greenhouse, I was startled when I looked up to see a young stag standing statue-still on the top of the mound, gazing out over the fields below as if posing for a new US postage stamp or a presidential poster. Another time, I watched, charmed, as a family of turkeys traipsed up the hill, one after the other, each taking their turn at the top to pause and vocalize before coming down on the other side. I would miss these moments, but I would also have a more unobstructed view of the east meadow.
“Heartless, I know,” I said, “But it was never meant to be a permanent feature. The hill goes.”
Rocky got to work, and over the course of that Sunday afternoon, the hill shrunk, faster and faster as Rocky gained confidence with the excavator. By Monday afternoon, all that was left was a little bit of dirt and the tree stump that had been buried under it. Rocky graded the area and knocked on the door to check in with Erik.
“We’ll be ready to get started on the foundation tomorrow,” he said.
“Progress!” said Erik.
There’s the idea and the plan, and then there’s moving through matter. If there’s any gift I could give Erik, it would be some way to speed the latter process. Of course Erik and Rocky encountered challenges as they started work on the foundation. In this case, there was a much steeper slope to the building site than we had eyeballed. Quick thinking led to the conclusion that we’d have to modify the blueprint, flipping the northern and southern walls, and after some discussion, the guys decided we could proceed, as the plans would have to be modified by the Tuff Shed engineer—and wouldn’t affect the foundation prep. A berm would be required on the north side, and also drainage, but they knew how to do that.
Rocky spent Tuesday and Wednesday digging out and roughly leveling the site. Progress was slower than we’d anticipated, and Rocky needed to prep to leave for California to work on projects scheduled for the month of July, so our time was growing short. On top of that, that weekend the bridge across the river between our towns would be closed, Friday through Sunday. So we three decided that Rocky would stay in our guest house, Thursday through Monday; we’d finish up the foundation excavation and framing; and then we’d pause the work until he returned.
“Oh fun!” I said. “Company and summer dinners on the patio! Plus think of all the work we’ll get done,” I added hastily lest anyone think I wasn’t focused on the project at hand.
Rocky showed up that Thursday with a duffel bag, and a gift and a note for us from his partner Faye Valentine:
Dear Liz and Erik,
Thanks for looking after Rocky for a few days. Please make sure he remembers to brush his teeth. Hope you all have a fun weekend!
Hearts,
Faye
“OMG, Rocky,” I said, “When you talk to Faye tonight, tell her we thank HER for letting us disrupt your weekend. And also that we promise to take very good care of you. By the way, anything you don’t eat?”
“No,” said Rocky. “I’m an opportunivore. I eat everything.”
“I like a low bar,” I said.
By Thursday afternoon, Rocky was ready to start setting batter boards and needed some help. I volunteered, thinking of ways to get in his good graces so I could perhaps earn a turn on the excavator.
What are batter boards, you ask? Here’s what Wikipedia tells us:
Batter boards (or battre [French meaning “to beat”] boards), sometimes mispronounced as "battle boards") are temporary frames, set beyond the corners of a planned foundation at precise elevations. These batter boards are then used to hold layout lines (construction twine) to indicate the limits (edges and corners) of the foundation.
Yes. Precision measurement and leveling are involved, and it turns out one must do this repeatedly.
“Geez! How would you do this by yourself?” I asked Rocky as I hopped from one spot to the next, helping him measure distances and angles and set lines.
“Very slowly.”
Friday I took the day off work, donned my grubbiest clothes, and met Rocky down at the job site, Erik’s coffees for us in hand. This morning we had to dig inside the layout lines to ensure the center dirt area was nine inches below grade, and once we were done with that, we would start trenching.
Where the previous weekend we’d enjoyed cool mid-60 degree temperatures, that Thursday, Nature cranked up the heat—and continued to push the thermostat higher over the weekend. After an hour or two of digging and sweating, Rocky and I switched out the excavator’s 24-inch toothed bucket for the 16 inch, and I took my position at the corner of the first layout line. Rocky moved the excavator into position and called out “Ready?” “Ready!” I shouted back, giving a thumbs up.
We worked the three “easy” sides first, reserving for last the trench that would pass over the fiber-optic cable, when Rocky had a good enough feel for the ground and the trencher as it moved through it. Our plan was to trench within about a foot of either side of the cable line, which we had roughly marked out after hitting a “DANGER! DO NOT DIG” tape, and then dig the rest by hand. “We’ll do that first thing tomorrow,” said Rocky, “It will be time to knock off once we finish this trench.”
Dining al fresco that evening, we ate heartily and bellies full, made our game plan for Saturday. I couldn’t stop yawning.
“Get a good night’s rest, Liz,” said Rocky. “Our first task tomorrow is to dig out the four trenches to 18 inches below grade.”
“No problem!” I said, determined to prove myself fully capable and earn that time on the excavator.
“By hand, Liz,” said Rocky.
“Oh,” was all I could say.
We had a big agenda for Saturday:
Dig out the trenches to 18 inches below grade.
Ensure that the earth at the center of the foundation, rimmed by the trenches, was nine inches below grade (the level of the ground beyond the trenches).
Reset the batter boards, which we had to remove to get in with the excavator to trench.
Reset the layout lines.
Ensure everything was equilateral and square.
Build the forms for the cement footers and garage floor.
We worked hard and long. We made progress with our trench cleanup (“Liz, no loose dirt in the trenches; everything has to be hard packed or we won’t pass inspection.”). And we set ourselves back a few times as well. Turns out we did in fact hit the fiber-optic pipe—not the lines themselves, thank goddess, but nonetheless we needed to stop, clean out the pipe, patch it and ensure it would remain waterproof.
Apparently I proved myself a committed and somewhat effective helper, because just before we broke for lunch came the moment I’d been waiting for.
“Want to use the excavator?” asked Rocky.
“YES!” I was giddy with joy.
“Great! I’m thinking I’ll show you how to level out the dirt, and you can grade the areas on the three sides of the foundation. I’ll need to think about how we’ll handle the side we’ll berm, so we’ll leave that for later.”
Rocky got up into the cab of the excavator, and I hopped up from the opposite side to perch on the outer curve of the body while hanging on to the metal cab shade. Engaging the machine, Rocky rolled us forward on its skids and into position near a high mound of dirt.
As Rocky showed me how to use the muck (the part of the excavator that looks like a long, flat scraper blade) to push the dirt and then flatten it by reversing back over it with the muck, I came to further appreciate his abilities as an instructor. As he had been in the trenches, he was patient and informative, explaining both how to do something to get a specific result—and why.
“Ready to give it a try?” asked Rocky, after 30 minutes or so of instruction.
“Sure!” I said.
I was a little nervous at first, especially when I lowered the muck a little too much and effortlessly gouged out a two-foot deep channel in the ground. “Oops!” I shouted to Rocky, watching from the sidelines. “This thing is powerful!”
“Yes,” he shouted back. “Make sure you’re sighting the ground just beyond the muck and keep level with that.”
I continued to practice at the outer edges of the job site until I finally got the hang of it and started to find my rhythm, lowering the muck to the right level, moving forward; reversing back, moving the muck up or down to smooth—rather than gouge—out the earth.
I was so absorbed in the task that I didn’t see Rocky leave or register that another hour had passed. And I got so confident with the excavator that I ended up grading all three sides of the site, to my own picky satisfaction.
I have to say, I was extremely pleased when, after finishing his lunch, Rocky rejoined me at the job site and said “Wow, Liz! You did a really nice job!”
Turns out, I did quite a job on a couple of sprinkler heads on our green firewall lines as well.
“Ah, geez,” I said, noting the awkward angle of one head, “That looks pretty bad. We’re going to have to fix that too.”
“Par for the course,” said Rocky. “We’ll handle those later. Now it’s time to reset our batter boards and remeasure everything. I think it’s getting too late for the framing, so we’ll plan on tackling that tomorrow.”
Unfortunately, at the end of the day, we couldn’t make the math work out. Our long and short sides were equilateral, but then we weren’t square. Or we were square, but then our length was off on one side. We were both getting frustrated.
“Shall we knock off and come at this fresh in the morning?” I asked.
“I guess so,” said Rocky, but I could tell he was bummed.
“Let me make us a good dinner,” I said. “We’ll feel better after a hearty meal and a good night’s rest.”
Over dinner we told Erik what had happened.
“Guys! I have just the tool we need for that!” he said. “I’ll get my laser measures out and we’ll check your dimensions.”
After dinner, Erik and Rocky went back to the job site while I cleaned up. Fifteen minutes later, Erik returned, triumphant.
“Your lines are spot on!” he said. “We were able to see this clearly in the dark with the laser instruments.”
“Oh, YAY!” I high fived Erik. “Now we can sleep in peace.”
Sunday was our make-or-break day: We absolutely needed to get the forms built. But before that, we needed to get the measurements right. And before that, we needed to get the wood stakes we needed to build the forms.
Because I love road-tripping, I volunteered to drive the four-hour roundtrip (because the bridge was out) to the lumber store across the river to fetch the stakes. I spent the drive catching up with Kate and with my sister Mare for a good dose of girl talk before rejoining the men at the construction site.
“Erik’s here to help us measure,” said Rocky as I pulled up, “And with the three of us, we should get this right pretty quickly.”
And we did.
“What a relief, eh?” I said to the guys as I gulped down my thermos of water.
“Amen, sister,” said Rocky.
I’d like to say it all went quickly from there. We made steady progress, but by late that evening it was clear that we weren’t going to finish the forms as hoped.
“You need professional help,” I said to Rocky.
“We could use more hands,” Rocky agreed, clearly not wanting to hurt my feelings by saying “more skilled labor.”
“Let’s do it. Who could we call?”
“I’ve got some guys in mind,” said Rocky. “Let me give them a ring.”
“Okay! I’ll make dinner!”
Determined to end the weekend on a high note, I whipped up a tasty lamb tagine with couscous and uncorked a bottle of pinot. Erik and Rocky met me on the patio, Rocky looking considerably cheered. “My friend Bryan will come up tomorrow to help,” he said, “And I’m confident we’ll finish the forms.”
“YAY!” We all raised our glasses and toasted.
And they did. Monday, Bryan showed up bright and early, and by 2 that afternoon, the forms were complete.
“I can feel good about leaving now,” said Rocky, as we wrapped up that evening.
“And about knowing there’ll be work for you when you get back in August,” said Erik.
“That too.” Rocky grinned.
“And not only that,” I added, “There’ll be more heavy machinery, including cement mixers! A boom lift! And who knows what else?”
Who knows?
A girl can dream.
