It's a dirty job but has to be done, so ... I just do it.
Demolishing the back porch and fixing the roof.
It seems I got that area sealed off in the nick of time. It's raining.
The last time it rained I was appalled to notice that a significant leak had developed and some of my art supplies stored on bakers racks in the bay window (where they fit PERFECTLY side by side!) were getting somewhat damp. Sigh.
Shifting my focus from the back porch removal, I knew I HAD to get that leak stopped so shifted gears in my mind and got to it.
I had a couple of days off from my job and spent the first one getting the scaffolding moved from the back porch to the bay window, then clambering up to see what the deal was.
Right here is where I have to tell you that I had already known this particular part of the roof was going to be problematic. Years ago I put a 'bandaid' patch up there (back when I had some actual very sturdy and big scaffolding and we were painting the house and working on the other half of the roof). I'm just happy the bandaid held as long as it did, because until just recently when I bought myself some scaffolding of my own I wouldn't have been able to get up there to do anything about fixing anything. So there's that.
Right here I also have to tell you that roof work is not my most favorite of all projects. Every single time I have to go up there it's daunting. After the FIRST time climbing the scaffolding, I can remind myself that the fact that my legs are shaking and my arms trembling is moot; the shakes WILL subside within a minute or so once I'm up there, but that very first time going up is a challenge to my courage because if it's been a while I've forgotten that the terror will fade in the face of necessity. At least I'm able to somehow force it into submission; otherwise I'd never get anything done on my roof at all.
Anyway, that first trip up to the roof is inevitably the worst and I have to make myself take each rung in turn regardless of how badly I'm shaking. I tell myself that all I have to do is hang on and move my arms and legs - and try really hard not to think about the fact that I'll also have to go back DOWN, because ... well ... because that would be just TOO much, you know?
Once I've made it up and down a few times it's not quite so awful, but I'm not one to monkey around with it, either. I go up carefully and I work carefully and I come back down carefully.
Because, of necessity, I'm alone. When you're alone, there's nobody to catch you if you slip, so you'd better not be slipping.
Back to the bay window roof.
The area I wanted to clear and seal is roughly two and a half feet by six feet. The top surface of my scaffolding puts me at about waist high to the roof line, a fairly comfortable height, and I could reach the area I wanted to clear and seal.
Pulling off two layers of soggy old rotten cedar shakes isn't really all that hard. It's the nails that will do you in and drive you crazy. Many of the oldest ones just lose their heads, or lost them long ago, so can't be pulled. Those get driven back with a hammer. The rest get pulled, and when I say there are an abundance of nails used to apply cedar shakes I'm not joking.
As the shakes came off I realized that someone long before me had also had trouble with this area of the roof. There were sideways shingles and some old asphalt sheeting, and a foot-wide strip of tin in between layers of shakes.
Once I had the whole works peeled off, I realized that I'd have to replace a couple of the roof boards so I removed them and put into place one board I had on hand that would fit. I also put in a couple of rafter ends cut to fit properly onto rafters that needed reinforcement while I was at it. Thankfully my step-dad had provided a bunch of them for the other part of the roof which had already been done and there were left-overs. As it was too late by then to go to the lumber yard for more boards, I covered the open area for the night even though it wasn't supposed to rain.
Come morning I went and got more boards than I needed (because I know I'll need them soon anyway) and headed back to finish the project.
Measuring the length of the space I needed a board for, I climbed down the scaffolding, collected a board, cut it to length, and then climbed back up and nailed it into place.
No I didn't just climb up the scaffolding carrying a six foot board, no way could I do that! I hiked it up onto the lower platform which is six feet up, then climbed part way up, pulled it free, and levered it up onto the higher platform with one hand while hanging on with the other. NOT enjoyable. But I got it done.
With the boards in place I still had to seal off that area of the roof.
Back down I went, armed with the measurements and a utility knife. I had rolls of water/ice seal in the back yard where I'd dropped them when I got them home. The boxes have cut out 'handles' but they broke when I tried to use them (and I had gotten the big rolls instead of the smaller ones because it's cheaper that way) so I finagled the roll I wanted until it was out of its box, realized it was much too heavy for me to try to pull with my hands, and finally just stretched out my arms, grabbed it on the ends and carried the blasted thing into my courtyard where I could unroll it to the length I wanted.
I cut a six foot length, then cut it down the center (or close enough!), rolled the pieces back up, hoisted them onto the lower deck, climbed part way up, and hoisted them up top, again hanging on with one hand while getting them moved with the other.
Once up there, it was relatively easy to get them into place. First the one along the bottom roof line, then the other one over-lapping it. That stuff has an adhesive backing so I started peeling the protective paper before putting the stuff into place. Then it was just a matter of pulling the paper the rest of the way off and sticking the stuff onto the roof boards that I had thoroughly wiped down in the process of confirming that all the nails were either pulled or embedded into the roof. One nice thing about the new roof boards I had put on: no nails! Except for the ones I used, of course.
Anyway, I got the sealing stuff stuck down and tucked in around the edges, tacked some of it over the edges to seal them, and climbed on down.
By that time I knew it was definitely past the time when I ought to have been back on terra firma.
You see, it's easy enough to tell when it's time to NOT be on a roof.
When the wind threatens to blow you off.
When you feel dizzy.
When lifting the pry bar gets hard to do.
When lifting the hammer seems more than you can handle.
When your muscles start trembling with fatigue.
When you get clumsy.
When it's too dark to see what you're doing anyway.
When it's raining.
In this case it was the trembling muscles and inability to effectively use the pry bar or hammer that told me I was already past my limit.
When it's just a matter of the burning/stinging in my muscles, that's okay. That just means they're getting a work out. But when they begin trembling with the effort of continuing on, it becomes dangerous. If I were working out in a gym, or running, or whatever, it wouldn't matter so much to push myself physically. The worst that could happen THEN would be that I fell over with exhaustion.
Being up on a roof or scaffolding, it's not exactly the same concept. Falling over in exhaustion would mean falling OFF. Not an option.
At any rate, at least that little part of the roof is done AND I've gotten those initial quivers out of my system, the worst of them anyway. Using the scaffolding while working on the back porch DID help with that too, thank goodness.
And (knock on wood) so far not a hint of a drop has fallen into the bay window area!
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