9 1/2 weeks

As previously mentioned in the last update the "blowout" had changed the nature of the pour sequence. The septic slab was not poured and all attention was directed to the driveway. After Denise returned home in the first week of April, Thor and I were left with a short punch list while waiting for concrete. I had previously put in my order and paid for it expecting to pour in about ten days.



Work proceeded very quickly in shoring up the upper and lower retaining walls. One blow out was enough!

The repaired lower wall.

Then we waited for concrete. The ten days came and went. The normal run of excuses, rain etc. Thor had to leave. He had hopes of jumping down to Antigua for race week and getting a crew position to either sail to Europe or back to New England. It's a well worn trail. I did the same back in 1974 and ended up sailing the entire Caribbean jumping ship in Panama and heading up to Guatemala. Years later I was to sail the South Pacific on the same yacht--the Diogenes--out of Sausalito no less. Go figure.

Bad news, good news, bad news. Thor didn't find any boat worth sailing on and returned to St John to plan his flight home. I was still waiting for concrete after three weeks and counting. What to do besides sitting here at Turtle bay in Caneel.

What to do? The lower deck!

Previously when the pool had been dug we distributed the earth to grade the deck to the level of the beams I had built and poured. Basically all we had to do was lay in the rebar and attach it to the existing foundation slab and tie it to the rebar sticking out of the beams. It was at this point I decided to cantilever the deck out three feet past the footing beam to extend my drip edge. Besides gaining a wider deck, at additional expense and labor, it allowed more of my fill slope to be protected. Just the thought of having a level work area was enough enticement to get the work done before the concrete arrived. I added to the concrete order bringing it up to 30 yards.

We laid a double grid seven feet wide through the center. Average pour depth was probably 12". I'd rather just pour extra concrete than try to get everything to six/eight inches. I used all my old galvanizing from my gravel chute for the floor in the center.


They are always inspecting the work.

In other great news, the road up the mountain was to be graded and paved--finally. This has been a rumor for years. The new Governor said he would get it done. Supposedly the money was allocated years ago when the road was designated a federal emergency access road. Is any of this true? I have not a clue. From my truck's perspective it can't happen soon enough. After more than 1500 trips I don't know how many more are left in her. It's hard to convey how difficult the road can be. It changes weekly depending upon the weather.

The view from Dr. Bob's driveway. The really only level part of the road.


Bad news again. The concrete got delayed once again. Thor had to go home. Now the waiting begins again. And wait I did for another 5 1/2 weeks. I can barely talk about it. I heard every imaginable excuse. From broken axles, hospitalizations, no sand, sunken barges, the wrong sized gravel to wrong parts from Puerto Rico. Worse still I was told a new excuse one or two days prior to my expected delivery date each week. After a while you start to take it personally. I don't do that well. I go to places I shouldn't. Yes of course I confronted the people, within reason, but what are you going to really do when they are the only folks that have what you need. Not to mention every delay has always cost me something--mud slides, money, warped forms, extra labor to name a few. What would it be this time?

So there I sat, stewing everyday. Waiting and waiting. I could go to the beach? Don't I wish. That only makes it worse as my mood got darker every day. That's all I'm going to say about it.

Before and after. I let the rain wash my work clothes. It's good for about three washings. Then they walk to the laundromat.

The bright spot, they started the road repair expecting it to take ninety days to grade and pour the .3 of a mile that gave the road its reputation.

The road before it was graded.

These guys along with several other heavy equipment operators were going to ruin my day.

During the middle of the tenth week Jeff called and said he was coming in the morning. Sure Jeff whatever you say. As always bring extra crew. I pay Jeff for crew. How smart is that? Had I not had this arrangement I would have been paying a crew one day a week to sit around and do nothing the previous nine weeks. I learned that lesson a few pours back.

He actually showed up!!! I'm speechless. While they set up the pumper truck Jeff and I go down the hill to talk to the road crew to arrange for the cement trucks to get by as they come up. They know the drill.

Jeff calls for the first truck to be sent. Typically it takes about 35/40 minutes to get here, weather and traffic permitting. After the first truck arrives they usually send the next one and so it goes until the pour is finished. I've got four trucks coming. Waiting for the first truck we have a little time to relax and get ready. The calm before the storm so to speak.

After about ninety minutes Jeff calls to find out where the concrete is. Where's the truck? We don't know we sent it over an hour ago! (of course there is no cellphone coverage coming up the mountain) With that Jeff and I jump in my truck and race down the hill to find the truck.

Not good! Sure enough the road crew is blocking the truck with heavy equipment while finishing a trench. The screaming and yelling starts. I just watch, it's in a language I don't understand. Jeff is not to messed with when he puts aside his buzz and his rasta love. Let's just say the equipment started moving very quickly. Here's the best part, there's not one concrete truck but two with another waiting at the bottom of the hill. Majestic screwed up and just sent trucks without checking.

What should have been a leisurely pour, if there is such a thing, with some hard work pouring the deck and slabs has now turned into a race with very hot concrete and I mean very hot--it was going off in the trucks. Stateside this pour would not have happened. The concrete would be discarded. But we ain't in Kansas anymore.

The first truck backing down the cul de sac. The truth is, it's a minor miracle that they can even get here. Jeff says I have the worst pour when you combine location, slope and the amount of pipe to lay, on island. I'm sure of it. It's hard on the equipment and workers. No doubt I get bumped at the drop of a hat.

Backing into the pumper truck.

Everyone is frantic now. If anything goes wrong we are all screwed, the trucks and the job. There is no room for error. We start with the deck. How hot is the concrete in the first truck? We poured 10x15 sections and we only had time to screed them with a 2x4. We could not bull float them no matter how much water we spread about. Same with the pool slab. Forget the septic, we didn't have time to put the pipe out and back. I called to cancel the last truck. Thankfully knowing our predicament they had not sent it. It had six yards.

Next to go was the lower retaining wall. We caught a small break as they changed trucks. I tried everything to smooth out the pool slab while they then jumped up to the upper retaining wall. Everyone was working as fast as they could trying to break down pipe and get to the upper wall. It can set up in the pipes.

As the lower picture below shows it plugged itself and didn't fill up the wall. Also by having to cancel the last truck we ran short on the other end of the wall which still stands unfinished waiting for my next pour.

The other end where we ran out of concrete. We are about two feet short of the top over the last ten feet.

At least the blow out wall is fixed.

Finally a level deck to work on. The small pool/jacuzzi will be under the blue tarp at the far corner.

When it was all done I had two unfinished walls, an unpoured septic slab for the second time and a deck and pool slab looking like lumpy gravy. If that wasn't enough I had concrete chemical burns blistering on my right arm and shoulder, both thighs and my ass from where I had accidentally sat down while straddling the upper retaining wall trying to screed the top. I could not sit right for a few days. I don't know what was worse, that or having to pay for this SNAFU.

So I did what any grown man would do, I cried and booked another flight home. I say another because I had already cancelled two flights with the concrete delays. Folks don't understand the chain reaction delays cause. This time it cost me two flights, Thor had to go home, a hectic pour with shoddy results, thanks to the road crew and majestic sending trucks without checking, unfinished walls that can't be back filled leaving the upper deck delayed, a septic still to be poured and Majestic owing me six yards that they may forget about by the time I organize another pour.

The silver lining? The road work continues. The parts completed feel like a magic carpet ride. I still have to pinch myself. Electricity, a paved road, cell phone connectivity and a wireless computer hook up, I don't care how slow it is. All that in less than two years where previously there was nothing.

I busied myself taking down some forms and smoothing out the pool slab with my hammer drill while waiting for my flight. The drill made short work of the slab and keyways for the coming walls.

Someone lost control of this short 2x6 when they were pouring the small columns inside the small room we made for the pool equipment.

At last off to the ferry to catch a plane.

I have since found out by reading other accounts that other folks have suffered even longer concrete delays all with the same excuses. In some cases they had to pay the crews. Yes I know I should have gone to the beach.

The Boss shows up

Back to concrete. After an eleven day wait for concrete we poured. Given my location and the ruggedness of the road up one cancellation is pretty good. As previously mentioned I had hopes of pouring my upper footings, lower retaining wall, pool and septic slabs and whatever was left over, spread it on the driveway three inches thick. In my short time working with concrete I always try to have a bail out point if I come out short or have too much. You can measure all day but there are so many variables getting within a yard or two is pretty good. First you start off with uneven surfaces on most footings, the pumper eats some concrete, spillage everywhere as pipe is broken down and moved and finally Majestic gives you a ballpark on how much is in each truck! I think I once mentioned on how I ended up with an extra truckload of eight yards and a site nearby was thrilled to buy it but when it came to paying a month later they said there was only seven yards in the truck. Yes, I took money for seven. Truth is, it was a stroke of good fortune they needed it otherwise it would have been dumped somewhere by the side of the road and I would have eaten it. You get my point however. Estimating concrete here is an art.

Back to the pour. The only hard part on this one is putting out all the pipe, especially with the extra seventy feet further down the hill to the septic. Jeff, the pumper, wanted to pour the footings then the wall, pool, septic and then break all the pipe down and relocate most of it back to do the driveway. Somewhere in there we would top off the pier and beams from a prior pour.

Somehow I lost the original pictures of the footings after they were poured. In the picture above you can see the footings as they wind around what will be the upper patio. I put a corner in to save a palm tree and some jasmine trees. It's in that back corner where the exterior shower will be. We are forming the retaining wall on top of the footings in the pic above.

Things proceeded as planned along with all the bitching and moaning about all the pipe--200' on this pour. That's a lot. I have to pay $20 for every ten feet over 100'. a picture of the lower retaining wall just prior to completion last December.....

My first genuine nightmare.

We had a blow out. The following pics are after the fact. The lower retaining wall slopes from ten feet down to three feet over a run of about seventeen feet. By retaining wall standards it was pretty straight forward. In fact I pretty much forgot about it as I had built it several months prior. I should have checked my work.

Everything was going smoothly. The area on the back of the wall, where I knew I had a small opening that I could not close because of, yet again, another small mud slide, presented no problems. We filled to the leak, let it settle and set, and then resumed pumping. The wall was filled to about two feet from the top when a loud pop was heard, then another. A long pregnant pause gave way to the sound of the lower course 2x4's being snapped like toothpicks. Then even a 3/4 inch sheet of ply buckled two feet from the bottom.

the stain on the wall says it all......

I had heard about blow outs. They are almost spoken with fear and reverence. You know, "back in 94 I was on a job when..." or "the wall blew out over on Gift hill and almost killed that guy" that kind of talk. They are the reason for having excess crew standing around on every pour. The "just in case" guys. Well now I know why, first hand. It's the ultimate gut shot on a pour. Forget the money, the labor, the time all loss in a heartbeat. It's the personal failure, the panic of knowing you have three yards of hot steaming concrete leaking out of a wall, now passing your knees, rising three feet high that is going to be rock hard in no time. It's the other concrete trucks lined up waiting to unload and they have no time for you. It's 95 degrees in the shade, your head is bursting, you can see your heart pumping in your chest and everyone is looking at you for what's next. Like I f'king know!?

After a top of the lungs profane blue streak that even stunned the workers I fell silent for about thirty seconds making sure I wasn't having a heart attack and collected myself. Change of plans. Forget the septic. I'll take care of the spill, everyone else pour all the concrete on the driveway. Originally the driveway was my bail out for any extra. Now it will take everything left. Thereupon I set out filling two five gallon buckets and spreading it on the adjoining patio I had just back filled. It was a race against time. I had about thirty minutes at most to move all I could. Anything I could not would have to be jack hammered out at a future date at a complete loss. Everything I could move would not be wasted--it will mean less concrete needed for the patio.

I topped off the pier and beams from the last job and then started spreading it as fast as I could. By the time I collapsed I hadn't got it all. Lost a yard probably.

Thor putting on the whalers......

The stain on the wall above says it all. It was in that corner that the 2x4's on the bottom two rows blew out. In talking to Mike he said the popping sounds were the snap ties failing. Snap ties pass through the wall and hold the whalers to the wall. You can see the snap ties in place in the wall above, where there is no plywood, sticking out through the rebar. The snap ties pass through the plywood and are attached to the whalers. Then you put 2x4's across all the whalers. It's very sturdy when completed. Why I feel some responsibility is I could have further reinforced this set up with another trim board running down the existing wall that has the stain on it. Had I, its not out of the question that even with the snap ties failing, the wall would have stayed up. The mudslide on the rear of the wall actually was helpful as it held the wall in place. With the additional support on the front it may have held.

When I finally threw in the towel I went up to see how the driveway was progressing. Believe me, I could barely walk up the hill to get there. It was a wonderful sight. Practically the entire driveway was poured and floated. I pretended to help.

When it was over I paid every one double for pouring the driveway and headed to the showers. A very expensive lesson these blowouts. I didn't even want to think of the work coming, to jack hammer out a wall and residue pile. The only consolation is showering first, which means I get the hot water in the hose!

Thor said he was going to go look at the damage. While crying in the shower I heard Thor hollering about something or another. It turns out the concrete inside the wall was not completely hard yet. Truth is, I had given up out of exhaustion and figured a few days with the jack hammer when I was feeling better. Not Thor thank god. I jumped out of the shower grabbed my skill saw, screw gun, etc and set about taking down the plywood forms. That took all of fifteen minutes. Sure enough it wasn't rock hard. Forty minutes of hard picking, all but ten minutes by Thor, and the wall was carved to within reason. I would still later rent the jack hammer to bust up the spill and fine tune the wall. Actually it was my hammer drill that did the yeoman's work on carving the wall. They are amazing tools and easy to work with. You can see the results in the pics above as we are rebuilding the forms. Net, net I have no idea if I got off easy on the blow out. Plus there's no sympathy from the crowd. What do you expect? You are pouring concrete! Get over it, as everyone laughs days later! Yikes.

But I'm scared now. It's definitely like falling off a horse.

say hello to my little friend...the infamous jack hammer, again!

Sometime while we were digging the pool, WAPA-the electric company was making noises on the road coming in to the cul de sac. Sure enough, after a year and a half, they were stringing power. Now mind you, stringing power and getting power are not one and the same thing. I won't bore you with the details but at least we had power on the poles. And that how it stayed for weeks. None the less we dropped everything at first sight and put up a temporary power pole.

There she be and there she sat for weeks. More painful still I thought I had worked out a deal with persons to go unnamed that I would be hooked up. Even worse they came and hooked up a nearby house and left me high and dry. Plus, getting hooked up does not mean power. It means you are ready for another department to come and put in the meter. And so it went through February and most of March.

The good news, Denise was coming on the March 21st for eleven days. Bad news, my housing sitting gig fell through and even so she said she would stay at the shack. What a trooper. Don't forget, Deadwood comes with an outdoor jungle shower and a crab toilet, if you get my meaning. There is cold water however! Not to forget its grand size at 12x12. Living large as they say :). What it does have is a grand view of mountains, valleys and sea while sitting in bed.




During the ten days following the pour we worked on repairing the blow out and building the forms for the upper retaining wall.

As the wall turns a corner at the back it drops from eight feet to six to four and finally three following the contour of the hillside.

This is the repair to the blow out wall with the reinforcing I should of had originally.

The night before Denise came I went down the mountain to have some dinner around five o'clock. Hung out to about eight and started back up the road. Pitch black. When I pulled into the cul de sac something was missing around my temp power pole. The hanging wires. Number 2 wire no less--very expensive. Grabbed my spot light and hopped out. Not a happy camper. As I approached the pole, before looking up, I was stunned to see a METER. They had come after five with the cherry picker and not only hooked up the wires but installed a meter at the same time! Winston, I love man. I had power, okay sure it was a couple hundred feet away from the shack but I had power. Of course I didn't tell Denise that night over the phone.

Next day off to St. Thomas, Home Depot and the airport. At Home Depot I picked up a 200' role of #10 exterior three wire cable and went to the airport.


Never said a word. Denise kept saying it would be like camping. When we got home I pointed to the pole. I was the man! Power! While she rested the next day I dug a shallow 50' ditch along the road burying the cable. At the mango tree I turned it down the hill and ran it over the ground through the jungle to the shack. Hooked it up to a 15 amp GFCI, plugged in a couple of surge protectors and proceeded to connect a fridge, microwave, toaster oven and a coffee maker. Yes, and just like at home in SF, I can't run the micro and toaster oven at the same time. Big, big bonus, I now have power for my phone and computer.


Mind you all this sits on top of beige/white marble counter tops. Such a gay man! Passing through Home Depot awhile back they had a left over load of 12" tiles for $4 each in boxes of 10. Big spender that I am I bought two. Now I even have a marble back splash. They stay in place by gravity and nothing gets between the sharp edges. I suppose if anything did, I could lift it up. Hehehahahoho.

Denise was happy. There was peace in the kingdom.

Oh, I forgot to mention my Martha Steward hanging closet. K-Mart rules.

Yes, there seems to be a blue theme going on here.

Over the next few days Thor and I continued to work finishing up the walls while Denise chilled out. Meanwhile I got in line for concrete to pour the upper wall, fix the lower blow out, the slabs for the pool and septic. We had about ten days, weather permitting. Thor went and did something else while I vacationed with Denise for a week!

a local resident......


We do the standard stuff folks come to St John for. Beach, hiking, restaurants and as they say in Coral Bay "it's a drinking town with a yachting problem". Like most National Parks everywhere you look the vistas are stunning.

The beach above turns into the pic below when there are storms out at sea. Fifteen to twenty footers are unusual but very possible.


These following pics are from a popular hike. Of course Denise turned it into a death march, late start, not enough water, high noon and seven miles. You start up on Centerline Road and hike down the Reef Bay Trail for a couple of miles, various plantation ruins along the way. Mostly old slave quarters. If you organize it, which I didn't, you get picked up by a park boat and motor half way around the island back to Cruz Bay. Instead we skipped a lot and hiked about seven miles by joining a few hikes together with a beach stop in between, blah, blah, blah.

One trail we did take was closed. That's why I went. It was to the old house that follows. This is another of the great houses they are letting go to seed instead of turning them over to private enterprise under park supervision. That is the norm all through the West. This is criminal. I don't want to hear any excuses about this shit. This could be a great hiking destination as the pics will show.


This is the view from the house. What a classic small plantation building. Probably fiteen hundred square feet with 15' ceilings. Just perfect. They kept it up until the 70's or so and now who knows what they are doing. The house you see in the distant right above the beach is our friend's house we stayed at last year when Denise first came here.

This is the view looking back from our friend's house. That tiny white speck you see in the far mountains tucked into the valley is the plantation house.


After getting back to the main trail heading down the mountain you end up at the sugar mill that originally belonged to this house. The mill kept working until the 1930's (?). I'm too lazy to look it up now. Just past these ruins is the beach where the boat would pick you up.

While Obama came to St Thomas to walk around with his mates the Clinton's came to St John to hang out. Just kidding, just kidding!

Another favorite here is Caneel Bay, the old Rockefeller estate/resort. This time we went to Turtle Bay, a grand old home tucked in the far end of the property. There's also a reasonably good resturant here at a stiff price.

I have no idea what I did with the pics of the house and grounds but here's a few watching the traffic go by from the patio.



And live from the veranda we have this clip.




Well after a few other shorts trips, including St Thomas, the standard intros to the locals, Denise headed home.

Me, back to being a hermit.

Wilson....