This is the south-east roof-line of my house. If you look carefully, you'll notice that the fascia is dirty. That's because it's been on the ground. It came off in a strong wind about a week ago. I ignored it. It's been nasty out, and, in case you can't tell from the image, that's a 2nd story window. Then a soffit vent cover fell off. Turns out that isn't a single sheet of perforated material. It's a series of overlapping, entrained rectangles. Further, they're only nailed at one end. One piece of sheet metal I can ignore for a while. Lots of material falling off, I can't.
Clearly, a large ladder is in order. I called 3 places, looking to rent a 24' extension ladder. Naturally, the place with the lowest cost and an available ladder was also the furthest away. Drove over in the HHR. I appreciate the tie-downs in the cargo-area floor, even more than I did already. 24' ladder, 8' cargo space. Wish there was a good way to hold the hatch-back closed, without involving the relatively fragile rear wiper. Got it home, propped it against the wall. Nicole steadied it.
20' is way-the-hell up in the air. Especially standing on an itty-bitty sliver of metal. In the snow. With wet boots. When you've never been so high without a belay rope, a rappelling line, harness, and climbing instructor. I've done my share of stupid things, and a few scary ones. But I can't remember the last time I had to overcome the physical sensation of fear in order to accomplish something. I didn't have to psyche myself to climb the ladder. I had to order myself to move each limb, to step up or down, to release a hand grip, to move the fascia into position. "Don't look down," doesn't even begin to cover it. I went up that ladder "Just one more time" at least 6 times.
Usually amazed that I was simultaneously lying to myself and that it was working. (I take back what I said of not remembering the last time -- it was the last time I sat on a motorcycle. I really want to ride a bike. When I try to, my heart races, my hands sweat, and I must think about individual motions and concentrate fiercely to avoid paralysis.) As you can see in this image, the piece I restored to its proper location had to be slipped under the higher sheet. When the piece fell, it was damaged. It's very light sheet metal, and it kinked (90°) in the middle and the upper end curled when it hit the ground. Forcing it under the upper piece, one-handed, without falling off the ladder, while it flailed proved to be impossible. I was ready to quit when Nicole suggested the obvious: cut the curled-edge off. 5 minutes with tin snips (Nicole's work, not mine. My hand was cramped too badly to squeeze the snips -- not that I told her that; I figured she was worried enough) and the end was flat enough to carry back up the ladder and try again.
I did get it to slide under the upper piece. The friction was enough to hold it in place while I extracted a nail from the pouch at my left hip.
(Pro Tip: Carrying your tape-measure in front of your tool belt is convenient on the ground. On a ladder, it becomes that lump that catches on every rung.) Holding the nail in-place while I pulled my hammer was . . . unpleasant. I was convinced I'd drop the hammer, maybe onto Nicole or, at least, have to retrieve it. Actually pounding the nail was easier because I could lean forward, and I had a hand on the ladder. Then I got to climb down-and-back-up a few more times, so I could drive additional nails. The last one wasn't so bad. I was probably only 12-15' off the ground.
Stowed the ladder. Went back inside for hot chocolate and to give my hands a chance to unclench. Light-weight compression gloves are good for a lot of things, and I appreciated the tactile feedback while I was up the ladder. But they were soaking wet almost immediately, and did nothing to keep my hands warm. Glasses were not terribly useful, either. It's hard to look up far enough to see above & behind my head, without leaning out too far. Hood-induced tunnel-vision has much the same effect. Returned the ladder, and called it a day. I don't know what I'll do if further minor roof work is needed. I can't see hiring someone to drive 4 nails, even if the nails need to be driven 20 feet above my head. On the other hand, I was not comfortable up there. I'm really not looking forward to doing this again.
Clearly, a large ladder is in order. I called 3 places, looking to rent a 24' extension ladder. Naturally, the place with the lowest cost and an available ladder was also the furthest away. Drove over in the HHR. I appreciate the tie-downs in the cargo-area floor, even more than I did already. 24' ladder, 8' cargo space. Wish there was a good way to hold the hatch-back closed, without involving the relatively fragile rear wiper. Got it home, propped it against the wall. Nicole steadied it.
20' is way-the-hell up in the air. Especially standing on an itty-bitty sliver of metal. In the snow. With wet boots. When you've never been so high without a belay rope, a rappelling line, harness, and climbing instructor. I've done my share of stupid things, and a few scary ones. But I can't remember the last time I had to overcome the physical sensation of fear in order to accomplish something. I didn't have to psyche myself to climb the ladder. I had to order myself to move each limb, to step up or down, to release a hand grip, to move the fascia into position. "Don't look down," doesn't even begin to cover it. I went up that ladder "Just one more time" at least 6 times.
Usually amazed that I was simultaneously lying to myself and that it was working. (I take back what I said of not remembering the last time -- it was the last time I sat on a motorcycle. I really want to ride a bike. When I try to, my heart races, my hands sweat, and I must think about individual motions and concentrate fiercely to avoid paralysis.) As you can see in this image, the piece I restored to its proper location had to be slipped under the higher sheet. When the piece fell, it was damaged. It's very light sheet metal, and it kinked (90°) in the middle and the upper end curled when it hit the ground. Forcing it under the upper piece, one-handed, without falling off the ladder, while it flailed proved to be impossible. I was ready to quit when Nicole suggested the obvious: cut the curled-edge off. 5 minutes with tin snips (Nicole's work, not mine. My hand was cramped too badly to squeeze the snips -- not that I told her that; I figured she was worried enough) and the end was flat enough to carry back up the ladder and try again.I did get it to slide under the upper piece. The friction was enough to hold it in place while I extracted a nail from the pouch at my left hip.
(Pro Tip: Carrying your tape-measure in front of your tool belt is convenient on the ground. On a ladder, it becomes that lump that catches on every rung.) Holding the nail in-place while I pulled my hammer was . . . unpleasant. I was convinced I'd drop the hammer, maybe onto Nicole or, at least, have to retrieve it. Actually pounding the nail was easier because I could lean forward, and I had a hand on the ladder. Then I got to climb down-and-back-up a few more times, so I could drive additional nails. The last one wasn't so bad. I was probably only 12-15' off the ground.Stowed the ladder. Went back inside for hot chocolate and to give my hands a chance to unclench. Light-weight compression gloves are good for a lot of things, and I appreciated the tactile feedback while I was up the ladder. But they were soaking wet almost immediately, and did nothing to keep my hands warm. Glasses were not terribly useful, either. It's hard to look up far enough to see above & behind my head, without leaning out too far. Hood-induced tunnel-vision has much the same effect. Returned the ladder, and called it a day. I don't know what I'll do if further minor roof work is needed. I can't see hiring someone to drive 4 nails, even if the nails need to be driven 20 feet above my head. On the other hand, I was not comfortable up there. I'm really not looking forward to doing this again.
