Since earning my amateur radio license nearly two years ago, I have operated on VHF and UHF a modest amount, mostly participating in weekly Radio ‘Nets, CERT (aka “passing out brochures for emergency planning”), a day of Cascadia Rising and some experiments with packet radio.
With the approaching of ARRL’s Field Day, aka “It’s officially not a numbers contest, but it totally is*” I was interested in trying to get my HF radio set up so I could listen in. I’d also signed up for a late-night slot with the Radio Club of Redmond to give it a whirl.
*For the hams who think I’m being harsh in my description of Field Day, Geocaching has the same concepts. Cache Machines run quarterly, offering hordes an organized itinerary to find ~100 caches in a day; challenge caches are different levels of repetitive stress injury :), power trails spam lonely roads but can bolster caching stats; and there are also those who solve a few thousand geocaching puzzles they probably won’t ever go out and find.
And so does cycling. Seattle to Portland is totally a not a race race, replete with pacelines, semi-professional training options and a timing chip.
I get it. It’s one way people enjoy their game.
Anyway… my initial challenge was how to string up a long-enough antenna. Most hams do this by building an antenna gun, which is typically an apparatus made from PVC pipe that pneumatically shoots tennis balls (with strings attached). I was nervous about the percussion calling undue attention to this and reasoned arborists must have to do this sort of thing all the time, so maybe there was a special tool to help out.
Thank you, Internet. With a throw weight and my fine “I analyze data for a living” physique, I was able to toss one up to about 25′ up with a string, but without any semblance of accuracy. The little portable wrist sling shots were very chintzy looking, certainly not going to toss a 400-gram weight up further than I can barely throw it. Enter the industrial sling shot:
It took me several tries to get the process down: place the weight in the basket, remember to spool out string (rather than entangling around my legs), pull pretty hard and steady, while aiming at the same time. Also: do not try to pull antenna wire directly, dumbass, use twine only. By the seventh shot, I had hurled a throw weight into a beautiful arc around a branch about 75-80 feet up. I replaced the neon-line (good for placing, not good for staying there without raising questions) with black paracord. Oh boy, was this going to be awesome…
… except I could not hear anything on my radio. Granted, I’ve never really used it before, but FFS, surely I can tune it. I borrowed a software-defined radio to look at the spectrum. Wire fine, re-read manuals galore. Finally, I popped open the pre-built balun and found the problem:
This box is a 9:1 balun, which is simply something “you connect an antenna to.” Signal wasn’t coming in because … the connection to the antenna hadn’t been soldered. While it was countless hours of wasted time looking at other solutions, it was at least a problem I could solve!
So Field Day passed, but I still celebrated my July 4th by getting WSPR (weak signal propagation reporter) working. WSPR nodes are low-powered transmissions followed by listening (typically 1:4 ratio) to gauge radio propagation. Results are sent to a central web site like WSPRNet or PSKReporter. When propagation is really good, amateur radio people are known to drop what they’re doing and run to the shack to work the radio for real.
This is not entirely like geocachers with a potential first to find.
By the end of the week, I had hit five continents from my cookie-cutter subdivision, using only 2 watts of power (albeit, for one-minute polling intervals):
(These are notes are mostly for myself for next time.)
T – 10+ days: Pick up The Kit. The kit is a 4L container with GoLytley powder, a flavor packet, and a prescription ondansetron, an anti-nausea drug that I would cherish later. Out of pocket costs for this: $2.31. A nurse called to check that I’d done this, reviewed the information packet, and had arranged for someone to take me home on the day of the event. She proceeded to ask me a bunch of odd questions about pacemakers and other stuff that didn’t apply, then asked if I had any questions. I could hear a sigh when I responded in the affirmative…
T – 5 days: Last Fiber for a while. I loaded up on the Mega Super Branny Nuggets with Extra Nuts, Grains and Seeds for breakfast. Lunch was a melange of cherries, blueberries and strawberries. Dinner dim sum with garlic steamed green beans for dinner.
T – 4 days: Low fiber diet. Although there was a short list of allowed and unallowed foods, I found it more helpful to find some menus online and pick out stuff that I thought would be okay enough. Being told do not eat fiber or red/blue foods made me crave them more.
B: Rice Crispix (“0 fiber!”), milk and a banana.
L: Rice Crispix, milk and a banana. Two meals in a row was a Bad Idea, as I’d bonk later with my body in full WTF mode.
D: Cheddar bacon cheeseburger with fries. I can do this!
Shot of Miralax.
T – 3 days:
B: Rice Crispix, milk and a banana. While zoning out, re-reading the guidelines for the 47th time, I noticed bananas were on the “do not eat” list, which contradicted the menu I found from another hospital. (N.B. they have small seeds.)
L: Tuna and cheddar on white sourdough toast.
D: Eggs, bacon and cheddar on white sourdough toast.
Shot of Miralax.
T – 2 days: drink a lot of water throughout the day.
B: Rice Crispix with a can of peaches.
L: Cheddar slices and a can of pears.
D: Skipped, as I was feeling bloated.
Shot of Miralax.
T – 1 days: Clear liquid diet. The guidelines said I could have a low-fiber breakfast, but I was still bloated from the night before. I skipped it and kept drinking lots of water and tea.
10:00am (ish) – mix Golytley with a gallon of warm water. Do not use the flavor packet. Shake until it’s totally dissolved and put it in the fridge to chill.
10:00am – Clear liquids from here on out. Tea with sugar is fine, coffee with milk, no. Since there’s a risk of getting dehydrated later, drink plenty of fluids.
16:30 – Begin consuming The Potion. I found it helpful to fill a bicycle water bottle (~22oz) and add a packet of Crystal Light sugar-free lemonade, serving it with crushed ice (super cold) and a straw. I was apparently expecting supremely awful, but it wasn’t that bad. Consuming that much cold fluid made me cold.
17:00 By the first bottle, I was feeling nauseous, a possibility they had warned me about. I took one of the ondansetron tablets, watched an episode of The Expanse, then resumed the regimen. Half a water bottle later, more nausea and the second ondansetron was popped. Watched another episode, and resumed.
19:00 – 3L consumed. So much for this starting to work within an hour…
20:15 – Thar she blows! I was glad I had a stack of magazines handy.
22:30 – Nappy time.
04:15 – Drink another 1L. Since it took ~3 hours to work its magic, I wanted to get a head start on the last bit. I sucked this down moderately quickly.
07:30 – Thar she blows ][.
09:30 – Arrive for my appointment. They had three of us in adjacent areas, asking the preliminary questions, taking vitals, and getting me suited up. Apparently someone else had not adhered to the diet, and was invited back for a second day. Everything was running late. I would have been totally fine taking a nap at this point, but with other patients in adjacent areas being prepped, I only had ten-minute low-fiber naplets.
10:30 – Counted 9,738 dimples in the ceiling tiles. Nurse set up an IV with fluids. She periodically popped in to answer my random questions and indulged me in a discussion of the sedatives provided (fentanyl and midazolam). There is a range of comfortable from “aware” to “unaware.” I opted for unaware.
11:30 – Terms and Conditions. The doctor introduced himself and went through his standard spiel on the efficacy (90-95% thorough, which is pretty amazing considering there are a lot of twists and turns), risks, and warning about not driving or entering into any legally binding contracts for the rest of the day. Having voraciously consumed reputable web sites’ information, I had no questions and was wheeled into Bay 1. When applying the finger monitor, the nurse thought my hands were too cold and got me a few more blankets (which was super kind). Fentanyl started and …
12:45 – I woke up to a presentation of snack crackers and cranberry juice. Yes, please! As soon as I could walk, they let me go home (not driving, obviously) witha very useful information packet summarizing the visit with photos taken at major sites along the defecation superhighway shown above.
They removed a single, small pedunculated tubular adenoma that was benign. However, I am supposed to return in five years for another.
MSRP was about $4300, insurance price $1600, all of it covered as preventive care. It’s unclear how much of the return visit will be covered under the same, but I have some time to plan.
Well that was an enjoyable week! 88 geocaches in 6 states (DC, DE, MD, NJ, PA, WV) with 375 miles of biking (and some Ubering) over 9 days. Highlights were the guided tours of Gettysburg, PA (by a professional guide) and Washington, DC monuments (local, at night).
Pre-trip: This was about as bad shape as I could be in for the ride. In June, shortly after signing up for the ride, I sprained my ankle on a hike. Then in August, I caught some sweet bronchitis for 4 weeks: I was in not-so-great shape for the ride.
Day -1: Fly to Philadelphia. A 6-hour non-stop + 3 hour time zone change + meeting two fellow riders at the airport to share a shuttle (that I ended up having to book) consumed the day. The hostel was pretty far from public transportation or places to eat, but we found one that would deliver a tasty, greasy Philly cheesesteak:
Day 0: Get my bike, ride around in Philadelphia.
The stories of aggressive Sports Fans and a recent viewing of Twelve Monkeys made me super leery about spending a lot of time in Philadelphia proper but, convinced by a fellow rider from Canada who wanted to explore, we biked from the hostel into downtown.
Ben Franklin is popular.
There are lots of row houses, something I vaguely remember from early childhood. They must be pretty small, because people sometimes leave their pets outside.
Day 1: French Creek State Park: Rain. Valley Forge
I didn’t sleep well due to the First Day Of Tour jitters. Also, the cheesesteak didn’t agree with me. (Note to self: you are no longer 19.) I was rearranging stuff for a while before going with the Showers Pass jacket. I’d need it, as it rained moderately hard for the first thirty miles.
A few miles in, I had achieved wet rider equilibrium: soaked to the bone, but warm as long as I was moving. I really don’t remember much except stopping to try to help out other riders with various repairs. At one point, someone’s derailleur crapped out (new bike, too) and I stuck around until one of the ride leaders came. I felt kind of bad, but it was really wet outside and this was kind of my only vacation.
While stopping at the restroom at Valley Forge National Park, I discovered to my glee I could shunt the hot air from the hand dryer into my jacket. After about twenty minutes of this, I was feeling better and decided to tour around the park, getting virtual geocaches. I thought I’d be clever and make my own route back onto course before coming to a bride that was out of service for the indefinite future. Denied, I trekked back. The rain stopped, but it was pretty gusty.
An hour later, the sun was starting to peek out. I actually had to apply sunscreen, which was kind of nice.
About this point in the day, I started having a lot of shifting problems due to a stiff link. Each third pedal would skip gears. Really annoying, too. I plugged forward, albeit slowly. One of the last riders caught up and, with his map wet, wanted help with directions, but didn’t want to ride at my extra super slow speed. Cat and mouse ensued.
In camp, I got some help finagling the link free so the bike was ridable. Two other folks with $6000 Co-Motion bikes were having minor issues and the guy with the derailleur was going to look for bike shop options. The ride leaders told us that Pennsylvania bike shops are generally closed on Mondays, so we would probably be SOL, but we could try Hanover.
I had good cell coverage (and a backup power supply) and found a shop in Intercourse (snicker) Pennsylvania, located near Blue Ball (snicker), that purported to be open on Mondays.
Day 2: Get a replacement chain. Buy groceries.
This was a pretty area with rolling hills and, of course, Amish minding their own business. As fascinated as I was, I respected that as best I could. The cows, however…
I did find this gentleman rather majestic on his horse-drawn plow.
Intercourse Cycles was pretty awesome in getting me in and doing the spot repair (replacement chain; and while we’re at it, let’s put new pads on the front). While they worked, I went next door for espresso. Yes, even in small towns, you have multiple caffeinated options!
Back on the road, and with a decent amount of time before I had to head back to camp, I enjoyed the rolling hills of Amish country. I came upon a buggy and, not really knowing the etiquette, waited until it was safe to pass with a wide berth.
A mile later, I was dragging on an uphill and heard him clop-clop-clopping behind me, providing me some motivation to keep pedaling until I hit the flat roads again.
Day 3: Get to camp waaaaaay early. Buy food. Cook for 15.
One facet of these tours that I’m not super crazy about was the shared cooking. In it, you and someone else are obliged to buy food (with shared funds) then cook a meal for 15 (13 riders + 2 ride leaders), clean and then have some kind of dessert. I drew the longest day (in miles) of the tour, also somewhat tardy by my wanting to indulge in the Utz potato chip factory tour:
Very disappointingly, Snyder’s of Hanover, makers of awesome sourdough hard pretzels, does not appear to have a tour for hungry, pretzel-loving cyclists.
And finally, I made it to the grocery store where we bought three meals’ worth of food for fifteen people. Two carts, just under $400 worth because we over estimated the pasta consumption:
We got into camp and found the van with all the cooking equipment hadn’t arrived yet. (!!) So we got started on dinner late through no fault of our own. We made garlic bread (with real garlic & butter), spaghetti with meatballs, and a spinach salad with roadside heirloom tomatoes. In retrospect, we overcooked. I had intended for the garlic bread and salad to be consumed while we cooked the other stuff, but people didn’t quite follow and the garlic bread got cold. (But, oh my, was it good.)
I ate, then slept, well.
Day 4: Camp Misty Mount.
On these tours, I’m usually pretty excited to eat and get out on the road as soon as I can to enjoy my day at a snail’s pace. However, the obligation of cooking requires one to unpack, set up, make coffee, cook breakfast, put out lunch stuff, wait for people to finish, clean, box up. Fortunately, I had gone with Snacks I Like — candied ginger, mango, various nuts and salty pretzels — and had a relatively short ride.
I rewarded myself with picking up a bunch of puzzle caches I pre-solved.
This was a nice facility, apparently a Christian social camp during other times. Although we camped in the field, they were nice enough to leave all of the dorms and common areas unlocked. I got to do laundry, charge all of my devices, have a long, hot shower. One of the other campers slept inside the common area to avoid the cold.
Day 5 & 6: Gettysburg.
Gettysburg and the Civil War were events that I was super oblivious to (thank you, Texas schooling) until I stopped on a business trip in 2008. The magnitude is overwhelming. I was looking forward to coming back and spending more time, up close.
The tour included the interpretive film narrated by Morgan Freeman, whose marvelous voice would be fine for even reading cereal boxes. The organizers made the next day short to accommodate an optional (yeah, right, as if I’m going to not do it) guided bike tour of monuments.
The tour concluded around lunch time, but could have easily been two days. The guide was awesome and I have a better appreciation of the significance of Gettysburg and the sheer carnage (something I’d see even more of in Antietam).
Because this was in Union territory, most of the Confederate monuments were erected relatively recently. Above is Louisiana’s.
The ride to camp had significant elevation gain. We had been repeatedly warned that Camp David was near the top of the hill and, under no circumstances, should we stop here and take photos. Camp David, formerly Shangri La, is a retreat used by presidents. It is, as they say, a poorly kept secret. There are no signs beyond a couple of discreet “no stopping” and “no photography” icons. The larger sign simply says this particular campground is closed. More than one person knew someone who knew someone who didn’t adhere to the guidelines and found themselves enjoying some quality time with the US Secret Service.
Tonight, we had the luxury of cabins.
Day 7:Slave Auction Block, Harper’s Ferry, Brunswick, MD
Leaving camp required us to go right back up the hill, past Camp David, before plunging down. My Canadian counterpart thought it would be amusing to take my photo while struggling up the hill… as he was right in front of Camp David. As I crested it, I saw a van full of burly men, buzzed haircuts, zooming up. Kind of feared the worst, but was too chickenshit to stick around and watch it unfold.
I’d later find out that the van’s occupants were late for work and waved at my friend before going past the gate. My friend, wisely, chose not to press his good luck further.
Unencumbered by needing to buy food or cook, I enjoyed the slower pace to geocache. (Hint: under the sign)
There was a nice cluster of puzzles in Antietam explaining how much the undulating terrain played into completely unnecessary carnage of the battle.
The most unexpected thing I saw was in Sharpsburg (a geocaching called my attention to it), was this:
From 1800 to 1865, this stone was used as a slave auction block. It’s remained here for 150+ years as a sobering reminder. Wow.
Our route then joined the Chesapeake + Ohio (C+O) towpath. On the way to Brunswick, I crossed the bridge into Harpers Ferry for some more geocaches and to revisit the town on foot.
There is an interesting viewpoint where you can see the confluence of the Shenandoah River joins up with the Potomac River which continues south past Washington DC into the Chesapeake Bay.
In town, you can see markers showing the flooding over the years. According to the earthcache, 1996 saw two floods of 29′ or more.
Day 7: DC or Bust.
The C+O towpath looks like this for a long time. The canals (left) have gone unused, leaving stagnant water and algae pools. It’s dirt and generally fine on slightly-deflated 28C tires. (However, I would have preferred wider, especially later.)
Every few miles, the path opens up to a picnic area or local access. There are a series of towpath houses for the former operators of said towpath (when it was a thing). They have been preserved and are, apparently, rentable for overnight stays.
Continuing south, closer to Great Falls, MD, the locks are also in better shape, though not typically used for the original purpose. The park also gets very crowded and extremely difficult to ride on.
Inside Great Falls Park:
The most jarring experience was emerging from the C+O Towpath onto random Washington, DC, streets. The directions were hard to follow and I was soon relying on Garmin auto-route to get to the Washington Monument.
I was glad to get to the Hostel when I did because a presidential motorcade had occurred an hour later, severely delaying the rest of the group. Meanwhile, I enjoyed a good hosing off and pizza.
One of the local ride leaders offered to give us a nighttime tour of the Washington, DC monuments, something I could not pass up. This was the closest I’ve ever been to President Obama! There were some locals who apparently set up a kiosk on the street and extol their unique interpretation of Biblical Apocalypse.
Among the highlights were the Korean War Monument, with its subdued lighting. The facial expressions communicate a lot:
The size of the Vietnam Memorial was stunning. The names are ordered by year of death. The full moon reflecting on the bricks added a somber note.
What trip to DC would be complete without visiting Giant Abe?
Last stop before heading back to the Hostel was the Capitol Building. We had unencumbered access to bike around it.
Day 9: All good things…
The trip description originally suggested we’d be taking Amtrack back to DC, but nope, pile into the van, bikes on top, and drive. I think we were all pretty tired from being up so late, but the tour was totally worth it.
I hung out in Philadelphia airport watching the Washington – Philadelphia game in a sports bar with a local fan who seemed like an okay guy.
In retrospect, there were signs that The Intern might not work out:
The child of a friend of the family of a Senior Executive
… touted as an upperclassman from a well-known engineering school, butwas just starting a search for an internship in mid-June
… hasn’t been vetted or spoken with the hiring manager, but was slated to start Tuesday. The IT folks love the smell of an unnecessary fire drill in the morning!
Intern shows up and wants to do Data Science!
…using only the skills he currently has (texting, Google queries, watching cat videos)
…because he’s actually a freshman
…and is only doing this because His Mom pushed him to get a job through a friend of the family.
Despite being given a clear set of tasks and the offer of tutoring from the team, this was not the experience The Intern had in mind. He left after day three. A weekend conversation between His Mom and the Senior Executive filled in some of the details. The Intern would not be bothered with the courtesy of sending the hiring manager an explanation, even in email.
I have never seen our IT staff so giddy to delete an account.
The excitement of visiting colleges with my daughter, her applying to the short list, and waiting on the results has is over and I’m seriously craving a week unplugged from work. I’ll be taking an organized ride in October from Philadelphia to Washington, DC. Since these trips are as much about seeing different things as the Zen of cycling, I’ll also be stopping for geocaches (and other site seeing) along the way. And maybe butterscotch Tastycakes, Cheeseteaks and those legendary tomatoes I’ve heard about.
I spent a good evening wondering if there was an efficient way to generate a “Find caches along a bike route.” Having plotted the estimated route with Google Maps, using its delightful Bicycle Routing option, I had a rough idea where I’d be visiting:
I was hoping to use this to guide me with Geocaching.com’s “Find Caches Along A Route” tool. For trips in the west (like this), the tool plus clever battle-shipping of pocket queries has been good enough. On the east coast, the tool’s auto-routing via turnpike or Interstate (but not, say, the C+O Towpath) makes it cumbersome. Even trying to force it (the two circles) is futile:
It’s really bad on the leg from Harper’s Ferry to Washington, DC — I could not get it to recognize the C+O Towpath because, look, there’s a huge interstate!
A coworker reminded me of the Map My Ride tool, which is really well-engineered for generating bike routes. What it offers above that, though, is the option of exporting said route to a KML (used in Google Earth) or GPX (used in Garmin GPS) file. I built this:
Trying to generate a set of geocaches from this was pretty involved. Google Earth’s user interface confounds me. (I find I’m shouting at it: stop. moving.) Garmin Basecamp is a promising candidate, but didn’t seem to work with so many points. Project-GC, which has completely upped the bar on geocaching stats, only does a point-to-point route with no fiddling. I’d have to generate eight separate groups.
I settled on this GSAKmacro. When fed an al dente KML file, it merrily generates bounding rectangles within ~1 mile (changeable) of the route. Next, I let GSAK fire off a bunch (120!) API calls of caches within each little box. It finished before I brought the takeout home.
Next steps are to whittle down the list of 1600+ caches to a reasonable number – focusing on the non-traditional or well-favorited. I have already started solving a crap-ton of puzzles at each endpoint, Just In Case I’ll be riding over one. Of course, since geocaching is also about numbers, I’m trying to figure out a scheme to make a side trip into Delaware (via train ride back?) or New Jersey (perhaps simply crossing the bridge from Philly) so I can say I have cached in both of those states.
Just skimming through the route, the two parts I’m most eagerly anticipating are the ride through Gettysburg — I last visited in 2008, astounded by the enormity of the place — and the ride along the Potomac from Harper’s Ferry to Washington, DC.
If you give a mouse a cookie, they’ll get crumbs and chocolate all over their clothes. When they get crumbs and chocolate all over their clothes, the laundry piles up. When the laundry piles up, you will need to use the Electrolux front-loading washing machine.
When you do several years-worth of laundry in the Electrolux front-loading washing machine, you’ll eventually discover it was leaking all over the floor. And you’ll call a repair person. And then another. And another. And another. And another. And another. Four will tell you Electrolux front-loading washing machines are “bad news” and decline to fix them. The fifth will tell you he’s on injury leave (we wish him a speedy recovery), and the sixth will say he will fix it, but the earliest appointment is in two weeks.
When the sixth repair person tells you it’s going to take two weeks, you accept the appointment. The next day, as clothes pile up from mice eating cookies, you realize schlepping twelve loads of laundry a week to the run-down Issaquah laundromat is Non-Optimal, and you research.
When you research, you discover a metric crap-ton of search engine optimization going on to dozens of links that ultimately look like the same company trying to sell a repair manual for $20. When not deploying a middle finger at the attempt, you keep on researching until you find an exploded parts diagram to give you the idea of the complexity.
With an idea of the complexity, you saunter over to www.repairclinic.com for a no-bullshit video and diagnostic tool. When you iterate through their top four things to check:
Bellows — this is the rubbery gasket thingie that sits between the door and the spinning drum. It was not leaking but, after seven years, it was really nasty and was on the “to replace anyway” list.
Wastewater pump — this is on the bottom, front, right of the washer and seemed very plausible.
You realize that your Electrolux front-loading washer is a complex machine that, unlike every other appliance owned, was designed to be serviced by human beings. A single Phillips screwdriver and a copy of Cryptonomicon (to prop up the front of the washer) were all I needed to get this far:
When you get this far, you realize the top four options on RepairClinic were wrong. The live drip from above is your clue: the cold water valve was leaking from the solenoid on the water valve.
When the cold water valve continues leaking from the solenoid on the water valve, you order that part from RepairClinic and a bellows (out of stock at RC) from Amazon, both delivered via two-day air. You also know the water faucet shutoffs aren’t working. Nor is the whole-house cutoff that you really should have gotten fixed in 2002.
While you ponder this, you look for a plumber in a hurry. When you are in a hurry, you get a guy young enough to be your son, and equally as experienced. He will charge $250 for the two faucets plus $500 for the main house so this doesn’t happen again. When he attempts each repair, he needs to take a trip to Home Depot for parts. When he makes the trip to Home Depot, you begin to rue hiring this person.
The next day, laundry piled higher, you can remove the old parts, and see the corrosion on the blue and yellow thingie where water was leaking at the valves for who knows how long. And when you do, you will admire the buckling of the hardwood floors refinished in 2010.
After catching up on a week’s worth of laundry, you will realize that summer has passed and it is time to put the house fans in the crawlspace for the season. When you’re in the crawlspace, with your spider friends, you are curious and wander back to this:
When you see this, you wonder “What the hell is that thing” and do more research, because whatever the hell it is (water pressure regulator, likely the original unit installed when the house was built 30 years ago) is leaking. Having well-adjusted household water pressure is a good thing, because you want adequate flow, without tearing the valves apart.
When you have a bad experience with a plumber, your first reaction is to try the next job yourself. However, when you think of allthetimes you’ve done plumbing, you get sad. When you get sad, you ask around for a recommendation for a professional. A professional plumber will have a backlog, but in the meantime, you can answer some Plumbing Questions like “How big is the line?” When you will make another visit to the crawlspace, much to the delight of your spider friends, and measure the pipe (1″):
You’ll notice how quiet it is this part of the evening. Except for a disturbingly audible “drip drip drip” on the plastic vapor barrier. When you hear an audible “drip drip drip” on the plastic vapor barrier, you become sad again because you need another plumber. However, while you’re down there anyway, you’ll want to look for what’s actually leaking, just in case it’s something that your skills can make lessworse.
When you look for what’s actually leaking, you’ll notice you’re directly downstairs from the whole house cutoff replaced the prior week. When you go back upstairs, you decide to inspect the work a little closer. When you inspect the work a little closer, you notice something wrong:
When you pick your jaw up off the floor, you’ll say “holy crap, I’m not a plumber, but is that putty? Being used as a pipe patch?” The prize, a soggy piece of drywall, is slightly more adhesive than plumber’s putty, which is normally used in sink drains because it’s pliable, water tight but completely lacking adhesive properties necessary for a 50 psi line.
When all between an active leak is a sad piece of plumber’s putty, you shut the water off, causing a ripple effect in the time-space continuum that manifests itself as every female member of the household having the urge to go to the bathroom right now. There may be yelling. When there’s yelling, it’s hard to explain to the plumber’s company’s answering service that their employee did a non-optimal job, please come fix this now.
When junior plumber comes back and spends three hours, he will produce this:
This new, left-handed valve, though substantially less leaky than the previous attempt, still has a minute leak. But the situation is under control (for now). With a very moist wall, a trip to Home Depot for a humidifier is in order.
When you run a dehumidifier, it pulls water out of the local surrounding. When run in a bathroom, that is most likely the toilet. To prevent this, apply some plastic wrap in a way that feels like some college prank.
Bad news comes in threes. While spending the last sunny Saturday of (possibly) the year, I tented off an area with plastic to set up the dehumidifier and emptied the tank three times a day, much to the delight of my spider friends. In anticipation of plumber #2’s visit, I removed the tent and discover a slow drip in the sewer (!) line heading out of the house. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.
When plumber #2 showed up to replace the pressure regulator, I asked him about the sewer and the whole house valve. (No. Way. In. Hell. I’m calling back the original guy.) The sewer is going to require another visit: all those junctions on the poo superhighway mean the whole thing needs to be cut out and plumber-healed. He can’t do it today, because there are custom parts he doesn’t carry with him, but suggested I schedule it with his wife and he’ll make the list. “Do you have a bucket?”
The first night, the bucket had a gallon of aromatic water in it. Emptying this much was going to be far more awful, so I researched options to temporarily minimize the leakage. Collars (neoprene sleeves with radiator clamps), caulk, and various tapes come up as options. Ducdt tape seemed viable, until I actually started doing it and realized how bad it is around gaps. Electrical tape, however, worked really well. The drip was effectively stopped.
Professional plumber came back ten days later and, in less than an hour, had all of the sewer stuff taken care of. He spent a little longer (an hour and a quarter) removing and replacing the whole house cutoff again.
Total time: 2 1/4 hours at $200/hour plus another $120 in parts. Totally worth it to have it done correctly.