This is my final—and current at this writing—job on a roof that’s not walkable. From a 10-foot scaffold I ascend to the porch roof, where a six-foot scaffold is precariously set, even though it’s tied off top to bottom with three ropes. I must walk like a cat on this thing to keep it from shaking.
From this scaffolding, up we go to the roof peak on a 12-foot ladder with ridge hooks, and to a homemade, heavyweight chimney scaffold dragged up in four parts. Eye lags are screwed to it for a staying rope around the other side of the chimney—the repair of which is almost finished, at long last.
At quitting time I’ve unplugged the electrical cord needed for grinding up top, and just once did I ascend these works to grind, only then to realize I hadn’t plugged the cord back in.
From this scaffolding, up we go to the roof peak on a 12-foot ladder with ridge hooks, and to a homemade, heavyweight chimney scaffold dragged up in four parts. Eye lags are screwed to it for a staying rope around the other side of the chimney—the repair of which is almost finished, at long last.
At quitting time I’ve unplugged the electrical cord needed for grinding up top, and just once did I ascend these works to grind, only then to realize I hadn’t plugged the cord back in.
Placed a second wooden scaffold on the other side of the chimney, after two hours of struggling. Made it of lightweight materials so it could be dragged up in one piece. I walk very gingerly on this thing, too, which was especially the case while grinding, when the platform had to be brushed of slippery mortar dust every few minutes. I wear a safety belt on this platform, attached to a six-foot lanyard hooked to a lightning rod cable, and it’s been sturdy enough for a day of work so far, but I’ll be glad for the moment I can toss this contraption into my little brickyard to rot.
Enough for the 62-year-old me of this sort of thing.
Enough for the 62-year-old me of this sort of thing.
