Addressing our supply of fresh water was at the top of my list today, and I got after it early. First I finished off what was left in our standby barrel on the homesite, then took an empty barrel down to the well, filled that and brought it back. I topped off the tank in the RV, pumping the rest into the standby barrel.
About 20 gallons in, the pump quit — our cheap China-via-Amazon transfer pump simply and suddenly stopped working. No warning.
It wouldn’t run on its 20V battery and it wouldn’t run using the AC adapter. I disconnected everything (water and power), got out my Torx bits and pulled off the impeller. I didn’t see anything amiss, so I reassembled it and thumbed the switch.
It ran just fine. I quickly hooked it up and finished this morning’s chore before it changed its mind.
Look, we’ve more or less abused the thing. We’ve maintained it properly and all that, but I don’t think it was ever designed to work as often or as hard as we’ve asked it to. I said awhile back that if this pump ever quit on us, we’d replace it with a Milwaukee M18 — but when I thought about doing that today, it occurred to me that I could buy five of these cheap pumps for the price of one M18 (plus battery and charger, which aren’t included). And the Milwaukee can’t be adapted to run on AC power.
So we ordered another cheap China-via-Amazon pump. We expect to have our own supply of fresh water up here soon anyway, so it was kind of a no-brainer.
Our firewood guy got lost on his way to us this morning. It happens. Deb and I drove the Ranger to where our road meets the subdivision road and flagged him down, and he followed us up The Mountain.
The dump trailer behind his Dodge pickup was piled with what he’d advertised as “seasoned” wood. He gave me a chance to examine the load before I agreed to take it, and damned if he wasn’t right — mostly oak, some hickory, even a little cherry. Every stick I picked up was light, responding with a satisfyingly hollow thunk when I banged them against each other.
He backed the rig to where I wanted him to leave the wood and raised the dump bed. Only about a third of it came out, requiring a little Country creativity to get all two-and-a-half ricks (about a cord) onto the ground.
After we were done, we talked for a time — life in Ozarkansas, the state of the country, and on and on. Great fella, the kind we like doin’ business with, another transplant (Iowa, 22 years ago) and yet another like mind. We’ll be ordering a second load from him as soon as I get this one stacked.
We didn’t see our well guy today — that’ll happen tomorrow. He did call, however, to let us know how much the pump, water line and installation would cost. The best way I can describe our reaction to that number is, “more than we would’ve liked.”
Thing is, throughout the process we were advised by countless people to expect to pay as much for the pump (etc.) as we paid to drill the well. What we were told today is almost exactly what the drilling set us back, almost to the penny. We’re not shocked. We want water on The Mountain, and that costs what it costs.
While he’s working on the well tomorrow, I’ll be right across the driveway, sortin’ and stackin’ cordwood.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB
Deb spotted this black beauty while walking the dogs last night — nature’s own pest control.