Acrophobia? Chiroptophobia? Is there a term for phobias when they combine? In Chilliwack there was a lovely little old house on the corner of Bernard Avenue and Crescent Drive….directly opposite from Bernard Elementary School. It was only a two minute walk from the home I grew up in on Park Drive, opposite Stewart Park. It was a small Veteran’s Land Act (VLA) 2-bedroom home with a simple main floor layout atop a full basement that was originally unfinished. As a child I delivered the Chilliwack Progress there and always admired the stately willow tree that grew aside the narrow driveway. I also loved the two dogwood trees that grew in the front yard and remembered that as an Grade II student, joined my fellow students to go across the street to draw pictures of the Dogwood flowers (BC’s official tree) in bloom – it was all part of the BC Centennial activities. Like all the VLA homes in the Sub-Division it was very solidly built out of true dimensioned, kiln-dried lumber as was the practise for all such post-war homes. There were dozens of similar homes housing the soldiers (returned from WWII) and their baby-booming families. This little gem of a house nestled on the outer edge of the Sub-Division and, over the years since being built in the late 1940s it had little upgrading apart from ‘paint, paper and flooring’ along with the installation of an oil-fired, forced-air, central furnace that replaced a coal-fired heating system. On my return from Australia in the 1970s I was ready to buy my first home for my budding family and that little home I had admired since my childhood, seemed perfect. Thus, when I saw it for sale a mortgage was quickly arranged as our offered bid was accepted right away. Mostly, it was great. The leaky basement and a sump pump turned out to be an all-too-common drawback as it was with all other such homes in the VLA built on such a high water table. It was the cause of many sleepless nights when the power failed and bailing had to occur. We fixed up the small bedroom in readiness for our first son and then, over the next few months worked on the master bedroom, bathroom, living room/dining area and the kitchen. I tackled the unfinished basement and built in a 160 square foot family room with a cleverly designed sub-floor to address the potential of water leaks. Every nail hole had to be pilot-drilled as the wood was like iron…once pounded in, the head of a nail would have to be pulled off as the nail would never come out again. As it was finished…I turned my attention to the outside. The entire outside of the home’s siding and trim was scraped and wire-brushed before a new coat of oil-based paint was applied. I poured a concrete pad and then built an aluminum shed to house all the yard maintenance equipment I needed to care for the lawn, trees and a 14’ X 27’ garden. The end of spring was a great time to plan work on the roof. It was apparent that the mortar was washing out of the brickwork on the chimney and it needed work. Now I have to tell you I am inclined to be acrophobic and I do not do well on ladders, eaves or roofs. My palms get sweaty, my heart races and I am always fighting a fear of falling. My friend Rick Taylor came over to help me with the project and we picked a cool, clear spring day for the project. While Rick was a policeman he was also a skilled electrician with a great deal of construction experience. He knew of my fear of heights but encouraged me saying the roof was not that steep and I had great footwear. He even fashioned a rope sling around my waist and tied off the other end to the chimney. We made a brace for the roof peak so as we dismantled mortar and bricks...the bricks could be cleaned off, stored on the roof slant and kept handy for when we made new mortar to rebuild the chimney. The plan seemed logical and Rick made me bristle with confidence. While roped onto the chimney, I straddled the roof peak on the side closest to the edge (which I instinctively knew to avoid) and Rick worked on the other side. He was comfortable to scurry up and down the roof and ladder as necessary. The first order of business was to check the flashing and adjacent mortar to assess how far below the roofline we may need to disassemble the brickwork. As we poked and chipped at the degraded mortar it was evident that there were some sizeable gaps which explained some rain running down the chimney all the way through the attic and even down into the basement next to the furnace. At the base of the chimney on one side there was a fairly large gap that allowed us to peer down into the attic. As we chipped away at the mortar there were some squeaks and scratching sounds causing us to stop our work. We looked down into the crack and thought we could see something(s) moving. As we got in for a closer look…what hurriedly crawls out of the crack? Bats! Freaking bats! Startling us both…Rick scurries backwards (along the longest part of the roofline); straddling the peak…I quickly shuffle backwards straddling the peak (along the shortest part of the roofline). I watch as the bats scurry up the chimney, fly out and dart about…it dawns on me that I was scurrying backwards to the edge of the roof, certain to fall to my death when the rope 1) breaks or 2) cuts me in half or 3) the weakened chimney is pulled off the roof to follow me down to the ground where it would then burry me. These thoughts all happened in an instant and I immediately saw the foolishness of my actions- causing me to run, arms outstretched, bat bites and rabies be damned, headlong into the chimney. Although smacking my forehead I threw my arms around the chimney hugging it in a death grip regardless of more bats emerging from their attic-cave – I was determined to not fall to my death. As I hugged the chimney I remembered ‘Old Yeller’ having to be put down….contemplated catching rabies and cursing myself for not having worn long sleeves that could have offered at least modest protection against bat bites. Zen-like, I became and remained one with the bat-infested chimney for some time. I sure am glad someone was on the ground with a camera to catch my terrifying, humiliating moment. Once I regained my composure we continued with the job which was done without further incident. I worked quickly, safely and efficiently so as to get the hell off that roof and never again get up on it or any other one for that matter. Rick almost immediately saw the humour in the event…for me, it took longer.
Posted on: Thu, 12 Sep 2013 15:46:08 +0000
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