June 1989, The Clothesline Pole

We had just moved into the new house in Waba at the start of May (Tina and Andrew should document the move!) and now that the truly desperate priorities were satisfied (electricity, stove, refridgerator, places to sleep, ...), we turned our attention to the B list priorities.

With 5 kids right at the top of that list was some way to dry clothes without spending ourselves into hydro-bankruptcy. We needed a clothesline, and a clothesline needs a pole.

So I asked your mother how long a clothesline did she want? "If it rains, I can have 5 loads out there before it all dries. I need a five or six load line."

Hmm, five or six loads, in the rain soaking wet, in the wind, maybe a thunderstorm. A couple of hundred kilos at least. Better get a BIG clothesline pole. has to be far off the ground to account for stretch in the line when loaded."

So that Saturday off we go in the van to Baba's house to get the poles. I pick
a shortish stout one for near the deck, and a very tall straight one for the other end of the yard. Cut and limb, tie it on with Marc's help, and off we go home.

The hole for the deck pole was already dug about 5 feet deep (1.75 meters). And that's as far as I could dig that one. So depth won't guanrantee stability ... better something a little extra. So I spiled the pole, mixed a big load of cement, and filled the hole with concrete after carefully placing the pole. After 17 years, that pole is about 15 degrees off true, so I guess it worked. I plan on selling the house before it needs replacing.

At the other end of the yard I managed to dig a very deep hole, maybe 2.5 metres deep, so the the very tall pole would be well seated. But, having a pole in earth just isn't going to hold five wet loads in the wind without shifting the earth around. What to do? Of course, dig another hole and fill it with concrete "logs", failed attempts at making a concrete border for the driveway the week before.

So everything is ready, off we go to get the tall pole.

I lifted one end, with difficulty. Catherine tried lifting the other end but cldn't manage it.

"Peter, it's too big, we can't move this."

"Oh sure we can, come over and hold this end. It's already off the ground."

So she did.

Now "Tina, come over here, grab the pole just behind your mother. That's the way!"

"Peter, this isn't going to work!"

"Sure it will, Andrew, get in here behind Tina. Now lift!"

"Sarah, Matt, your turn, get in there behind Andrew! Now lift!"

"Jon, you to! get in here and help us lift!"

"OK everybody now let's walk, SLOWLY. We must not drop this thing, it's way too heavy!"

So off we went from the front of the yard to the back, everyone protesting at first that it couldn't be done, then getting excited that we were moving it, and finally really enjoying it. This was a very big wet log. Moving it was an amazing thing to do!

And even the smallest made a difference (Sorry Jon, mostly I had to hold my end a little lower so you could reach but carry that log you certainly did. I could feel the difference when you got your back into it, even though you were only 18 months old ... not much of a differnce but for you it was a big deal.)

We put the pole in the hole, lifted it up (almost lost it on the way up before it thunked down to the bottom), tied it off to the concrete logs, and filled it in.

Overall perfect, amazing feat, all things considered.

Then you mother noticed that I had forgotten to put the pulley on ... and that's why there are boards nailed laddderwise up that pole, just high enough to hang on to precariously while I do an overhead, one handed screw in of the eye link to hang the pulley onto.

And the lean on that pole after 17 years of five load days ... about 20 degrees.

Now, if any of you find yourselves thinking "Why can't I do that?", this may be one reason that question comes to mind so easily ...