The Former and the Ladder

There it was – the dank, deep, and dark portal to the underworld:  my basement in the half- built house my wife and I had just acquired. The  pressure tank for the well was down there along with electrical circuits, yellow glowing eyes, hissing sounds in the night, and soon-to-be-added water heater. The problem was that the only way to descend into the pit was via   an ancient beam with a few badly placed and weakly nailed two by fours.

This primitive, pre-historic relic would not support the weight of a female gymnast, much less a 200 lb. plumber carrying a water heater.  It had twisted and almost thrown me to the floor last time I had used it.

A ladder. I needed a ladder. I decided to make my own. Nothing to it. Just screw some boards together, right? Don’t answer that.

The thing was, I wasn’t much of a carpenter. In fact I had a fear of things loud and sharp that required measuring, squaring, leveling, and attention to detail. The prospect of  building  a ladder was a pit more terrifying than the radon-filled blackness beneath my feet.

 No matter, part of me told my trembling inner catatonic. We will act. First grab this 2x6 board and slide it down into the dark. Yes, it is ten feet long and barely makes it to the floor, but do it anyway.  There. It is on the floor. Find a good angle for the ladder to rest and mark it. Yes, mark it. Now. OK.

Once the mark was on the board, I pulled it back up and took it out into the light for purification and deep breaths.  Now measure and divide by ten or so. Those will be the steps, and you will have to notch the board where the steps attach so that they will be able to carry the weight of big people carrying heavy things.

Yes, I know you want to run away but there is nowhere to go, no escape. This has to be done.  I extract my 30 year old, groaning circular saw from a white bucket and find an extension cord that will run from the electrical stub to the house.

I surprise myself by seeing how the whole thing can work. I find a bevel square for a table saw and set it at the angle the steps will have to be in order to be level with the inclined vertical. If I move slowly enough, I start to “get it.”  When I lose it, I just stop and think about it until I get the picture again.  I hate to admit it, but doing so is exciting and I imagine myself master of the world of wood, armed with cordless saws, drills, and tape measure. But I may be getting too far ahead.

The notching goes slowly. I want to quit, but continue one after the other until a whole board is done. Ten notches, ten inches apart, cut for 2x6 s to fit into them.  OK, I think, cleats under notches for the steps would be good, and look more “professional.”  I locate some scrap wood and cut cleats in a kind of parallelogram shape that will fit under the steps and look good too. Now I drill pilot holes for the screws (3) and screw the cleats in place. Man this looks good. Soon I have all of them cut.

I set the board up to admire my work. All of the cleats are ABOVE the steps. Hmmm. That does not seem right and likely will neither impress nor support anyone.  Back the drawing board and stay at it I say, but more because I am stubborn than because I want to. 

Yes, the voices are there. I hear my wife, my carpenter friends, my family, all the people I have disappointed in life watching me, shaking their heads, tsk tsking, not approving of my oversight. Ravens croaked their disapproval. A bluebird (my favorite bird) rolled its eyes; I felt scorn like that from a beautiful young woman disgusted by an old man who lived his life poorly. 

No matter, I lie.

I removed the cleats, re-drilled, fastened them in the right place, and then set the board up.

By now everyone in the gallery has lost interest and moved on, so I am doing this for me. 

On to the next board and this one goes better, more smoothly. I am tired, but enjoying the work, even the precarious cutting of short scraps for the cleats. With all the parts prepped and in place, I set up the verticals and fit the steps into place. 

It works! And it only took most of the day. Sunset again.

Down it goes into the dark, where only I will know where it is.