Chapter 20

Not that I’m trying to tell you the water wasn’t coming straight off the icepack ... it was. But it was warmer ... a qualitative term. And there wasn’t so much of it.

I didn’t put the Keene 6 Inch Portable Industrial Yanmar Diesel Dredge in the water until the 15th of May. The value of the tracked skyhook was proven by picking up the dredge, trundling it out of the Avocado and down to the water. That alone was worth what I paid for it.

By the end of the first day I suited up and went in the water I realized I couldn’t do this by myself.

That day had started at dark thirty.

Walking to the Avocado garage, I looked at the glaring hole that had been the window in the door. Note to self ... get that fixed. Wired glass probably saved my life. Wired glass as a replacement. I unlocked and headed for the little desk I called the office. Picking up the phone I looked for the General’s number ... no dial tone. That’s right ... somebody ripped out the line.

I walked around to the box. Jerked right off the wall ... GREAT! Ain’t this a kick in the ass! No way I can claim winter damage. I’m going to need a ladder. Back inside ... find the ladder ... open the bay door. Hmm. Screw Driver? Nut Driver ... yes. The tool box was gone. It’s at the house. Fuck it ... later. I’m already sweating in this wetsuit.

Don’t leave the ladder. Shut the bay door. Back in the Avocado I located the 6 inch dredge. It’s on wheels ... a cart. When? ... Came with it. The Yanmar, pump, dive compressor and hoses were winterized when I put them away.

Rolling the cart out to where I could pick the dredge up with the hook, I checked connections, looked in the empty fuel tank, replaced the pump drain plug ... at least I’d left the crescent wrench. Checked the oil. The engine used creek water for cooling. That plug was replaced. The block draincock ... I screwed it shut. A quick visual. Ropes, web sling ... everything looked just like it did when I hauled the dredge for the winter.

I fueled the Yanmar, climbed the track to the deck, opened the seating, I had to learn written French to start the damn thing. Fired up the track maneuvered to the dredge. Shut down ... situate the hook over the dredge. I looked over the edge ... Fuck it’s a long way down ... I jumped down...

Shit! This thing is tall ... the landing jarred my ankle.

That’s not going to work. I need to weld up a ladder, something permanent. I hooked up the dredge.

I had forgotten to open the garage door ... again,

Open the door, climb up the track, restart, lift the dredge, back out the door, dredge swinging wildly. Jump down, close the bay door, climb back up and head for the creek. The ruts left by the National Guard weekend had the dredge spinning on the hook.

I could stop that if I secured it with the bank ropes.

I stopped as gently as I could, jumped down ... and looked at the spinning, rocking dredge. Nope ... ain’t touching it. I waited. The dredge finally stopped dancing. I couldn’t reach the ropes.