Water, Water, Everywhere and Not a Drop to Drink

I grew up on a lake that was hidden in the mountains of Southern California. It was basically like summer camp all year long. After-school activities ranged from bicycles and roller skates to kayaks and sailboats. Idyllic, except during winter, when the rains overran the banks and our house flooded. Sometimes it was only a few inches over the docks and driveway, which was fun because it did little damage, but usually kept us home from school for the day.

But other times, it meant 4 to 6 feet of water in our bedrooms, which wasn’t so much fun. In fact, to this day, I wake up from a dead sleep for anything more than a light drizzle, because for so many years that meant it was time to get up and start moving furniture.

For the most part, it was really hard to move away, but the relief from the winter stress was actually quite surprising. Rain no longer had such a negative connotation.

Until this week. You would think that living on a mountain at an elevation of nearly 2000 feet would make you immune to flooding. But I should have recognized that the same pond full of frogs that first wooed me up here also had the potential to turn wicked.

We had already experienced nearly 30 inches of rain this season, so the pond was at max capacity. Then 10 more inches fell in a 24 hour period. It burst its banks on two sides, blocking both roads that surround it, and then became a river that flowed through the barn, under the barndominium, and down the third road. I wasn’t too worried about water getting in the house because we are posted up about 8 inches and the river was only 4 inches deep, but I was concerned about the posts themselves becoming unstable and sagging in the deluge.

Eventually the rain stopped, and so did the river. The pond was still more than double its former self, but the road was passable with the quad. So I decided it was probably time to check the rest of the ranch for damage.

When I opened up the well house to check on the water pump, I found it fairly well destroyed. Not by nature – the animals had broken in. The walls were chewed up, there were road apples everywhere, and the solar inverter had been ripped off the wall and the wires frayed. The irony was not lost on me. We had Lake Tahoe at our doorstep, but no well water for actual use.

When it rains, it pours.

Hmmm… but how did the damn mules get in?! The door was securely closed...

When I picked Dave up the next day and related all the drama that occurred during his absence, he decided to head immediately down to the well site to check the damage and see about repairs. It was right at dusk, and as he walked up to the front door, a 400 pound black bear came out the back window.

OOPS. Silly me… sorry honey!