Now that we had the 200 bolts neatly stacked at creek’s edge our next job was to get them across the creek, then about 200 feet up a small hill, across a tiny brook and then up into the pine trees to their final resting place. Should be a piece of cake, right? Yeah. Sure.
It was mid April and still chilly which actually made it easier to work. Light jackets were all we needed to stay warm without getting over heated. All three of us were home from work by 3:30 so at 4 pm we headed out to the farm. We loaded the little wagon up with water bottles, gloves, tie down straps and assorted tools and made our way to the creek. Jo and I crossed the creek and got set up across from where the bolts were stacked. Ron put a few of them at a time into his rigid sled and then Jo and I hauled it across the water. We unloaded the “boat” and put the bolts into the wagon. Them we had to get them out to where Ron had the pallets set up.
It only took a couple of trips for Jo and me to realize that this was not going to be a breeze. This was no lovely straight garden path that we were using. This was pulling a wagon load of logs over rocks, around the trees and their roots, up and down what seemed like hills and valleys, though the muddy brook and up into the trees. Three loads in and we were not keeping pace with Ron. He had the nerve to chastise us. I told him to zip it. He did and we kept going. Thank God we had decided we were only going to do this for 2 hours. Then we had to load everything back in the little wagon and get it and us back to the Transit. So glad to get home. We were wiped, but it did feel good to have the end in sight.
Two days later we were back for another run. This time I decided we would move a bunch of bolts across the creek and then the 3 of us would push and pull them up to the trees. That really did work better and was much easier on all of us. We do make a good team. Again we only worked for 2 hours but we made another good dent in the project.
Sadly all this work made me realize I was going to have to cave and agree to buy a 4 wheeler. If Ron and I were 20 or even 10 years younger I might have resisted more. Once Ron got the green light, he was off to the internet to find the best deal. And he did. But it meant a drive up to Amsterdam NY with our trailer to it pick. Ron insists the massive savings was well worth it. On the way home, I made him stop at the Fort Plain cemetery in Fort Plain NY to see if I could find some of my Fikes’ relatives. I had no luck but it is a lovely place and one of the nicest cemeteries we have visited. Without an indication of where they were actually buried, we had to settle for walking around looking.
A happy man with a new toy. And it made a huge difference in our next run the with bolts. Now we just hooked the wagon up the to wheeler, pulled it across the creek and then just kept going to the pine trees. Not without issues though. Turns out the wagon not really designed for this project. We had a couple of loads dump into the creek and Ron had major trouble backing up. Guess that will come with practice, but nephew Jessie had brilliant idea of just unhooking the blasted thing and repositioning it by hand. Much less yelling going on now. Don and Jessie had stopped by to see how things were going and were shanghaied into helping. And a massive help they were because we got all the bolts moved. Done. Next.
By the way, I was the one who figured out how to put the wheeler into reverse. When Jo and I arrived earlier, Ron was fuming because he couldn’t remember how to do that. I read the instruction manual and by looking at the pictures was able to figure out what he was doing wrong. What would he do without me? Men, they really do hate reading the manuals, don’t they?