My lifeline. View from the top of the hip of the roof through my friendly leaves, down to where it disappears around the corner of the north dormer (with the narrow roof ledge in front of it twelve feet from the ground) and runs in through the dormer window to where it's secured inside.
It's kind of hard to see the knot but that's my lifeline going out the window of the north dormer.
You have to look close to see it, but that slender line means safety to me.
Here it is, coming over and around to the south dormer!
Rubbish heap growing ... when all is said and done I'll sort out the cedar shakes I want to keep for art projects, bundle up a lot of them to use in my chiminea, and the rest will be hauled to the DUMP !!!!!!
Little old gramma ladies aren't supposed to say stuff like that.
Right now this little old gramma lady is going to SIT STILL, inside, in my dining room, on my backside, for a few moments, smoke one of my five daily cigarettes, and try to regain my equilibrium.
...
From the safety of my little scaffolding I've gotten the whole of the edge of the roof stripped and sealed. Somehow that just wasn't all that frightening, once I got myself into the mindset that the quaking would go away in just moments once I got busy - and of course they did so all was well!
That part being finished, it's time for me to get to the rest of the roof.
The first thing I wanted to get done was to install my safety rope. It's a BIG rope, and heavy, and awkward to manage at the best of times. Since I can't adjust my scaffolding alone, and since it's set so that the edge of the roof is at about waist high for me, and since clambering up onto the roof from it is just too much to expect from myself, and because I can't afford to buy myself an extension ladder at the moment, my roof access is in and out of the dormer windows.
The rope is my lifeline.
After solidly securing one end to the inside framing of the north dormer, I heaved the bulk of the rope out onto the roof just outside the window.
I tell ya: that space is a LOT smaller than I recall. Of course, there's no great big scaffolding platform this time around ... makes a difference, that does.
By the time I got the coils of the rope out the window, I let it set there while I brought up the rest of the things I'll need and stashed them in the attic (which ain't a piece of cake either because I have to climb a ten foot wooden ladder to get up there; carrying heavy and awkward things just makes it worse). Up went part of a big roll of that black stuff, my fanny pack with staples, staple gun, bottle of Pepsi, cell phone, a hammer, and my pry bar.
Not being able to procrastinate any longer, I reached out of the dormer window and pushed the coils of rope as far as I could without falling out, then eased myself out onto that ledge of roof part way and pushed the coils a little further so as to make room for my own self.
The ground is only twelve feet from the edge of the roof, but with no scaffolding it sure seemed a lot more than that.
I was already starting to sweat, and no the day is NOT all that warm today.
Pushing the coils of rope before me as best I could, and hanging onto the dormer for all I was worth, I got the coils up onto the top of the dormer, where its roof joins the roof of the house, easing myself up the roof regardless of the fact that I was shaking like a leaf, sweating like a racehorse, and felt very much like throwing up. It seemed to take forever and ever and EVER, one inch at a time.
When I got myself to the top of the dormer I could lean up against roof and reach the top ridge.
Note to Kussin Kurt: Those trees you kept telling me to cut down were my salvation.
Clinging with one hand to a sturdy tree branch that just happens to clear the roof line right there, I used the other to pull that heavy length of rope up to the top of the roof, one coil at a time, praying all the while that it wouldn't slip (or me either, although that friendly tree branch helped). My pry bar did slip loose and is now lying on top of the dormer, where it may spend the rest of its natural life if my courage fails me.
Once the coils of rope were on the ridge of the roof, with some of them looping down on the other side, I grabbed another sturdy tree branch with my other hand and just stayed there like that for a little while, letting the sweat drip off my face onto the roof and trying to still my shaking self enough to be able to continue.
Continuing was a given: I sure as hell wasn't going to go back DOWN that north side of the roof, not in this lifetime.
So there I was, hanging onto those tree branches for dear life. Finally it dawned on me that, while they could hold me forever, I could not hang onto them forever and had best get a move on before I lost my grip.
Thank God for strong arms and handy tree branches. The only way I was going to get to the top of that roof was to use those strong arms, advance my grip on the sturdy branches (just the right size for me to use), and haul myself up that way until I could heave myself up and over the top. At the top was the rope, kind of in my way, so I maneuvered it through a couple of those branches and tried to slide it down the dormer roofline.
Once I had a safe space for myself, I sat there panting and sweating in fear, more droplets falling onto the dormer, and still shaking to beat the band. It was not fun, although I have to say it beats the hell out of the condition I'd have been in had I lost my balance or my grip.
Once again those sturdy tree branches held me stable until I could move again.
While sitting up there in their midst, I remembered back to almost twenty years ago when they were no taller than I am, and it was intensely satisfying to me to note that they had grown to exactly the right size and shape to be there to help me in my hour of need.
Having the rope to steady my descent, now that it was over the hip of the roof, made it somewhat less terrifying, even on that little ledge in front of the south dormer.
Pushing the rope coils before me and pulling my fanny pack along behind I inched my way through the dormer window along with the rope, sat on the window sill for a moment, stepped down onto the attic floor, and a loud, "Holy Shit!" hit the rafters above me.
And now, now I'm no longer sweating, my hand is rock steady as usual, my breathing has returned to normal, and I didn't throw up.
No time like the present to test out the lifeline by going back out the north dormer, collecting my prybar from atop it, and continuing up and over the hip of the roof again into my companionable tree branches.
I have to say I really appreciate the fact that they're there right now. They will have to be trimmed away as I go, which makes me a little sad but it will be necessary. In the meanwhile, I very much like having them.
One final word: Terror be damned - I must do this; therefore I can do this; therefore I shall do this. I have no viable alternative.
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