Propane and The Honorary Grandfather. Part 3

There came a day when the work was done and we stood gazing fondly at the finished product. It was beautiful, looked just like Annie's drawing. We did have to accept some minor flaws. Once the stairs leading from the porch to the ground were done there was no way we were going to ask Jim and company to rebuild them so they didn’t end at the base of a huge white pine. Even a newbie like me could see that big pines get even bigger and there will be a problem with the steps – which there have been; the tree’s girth has expanded over the years and is gently driving the steps back into the porch. My solution has been to gradually cut the steps away to relieve the pressure. We remain baffled though. And there is a very large window in the south wall that is just off center. I understand why, it follows the edge of the tiny old window it replaced and saved a lot of patching of the ship lap siding, but it’s off center; Annie tries not to look at it. But let’s not be picky. They also went under the cottage and shored it up with posts and more boxes of rocks so it’s more or less level and a lot more solid than it had been. And everything they built is still as solid and sound as the day they finished. I say if you want an architects design-build kind of job go hire an architect. With Jim we got a lot more than we paid for, which wasn’t all that much to begin with, and we got a kind of honorary grandfather, a kind and generous one. Now, before I tell you about the propane I want to tell you about Jim and the lightning storm. It was one of those moist, muggy days when the storms were brewing up from their usual spots over Blue Mountain. We were were out on our new porch overlooking the lake. The breeze was beginning to freshen and lightning was lighting up the sky to the north. We love a good storm and had settled in under the shelter of our porch roof to watch the show. The familiar buzz of Jim’s outboard had a kind of urgency to it as he circled into the dock at full speed. As he hurried up to the cottage he was scolding us, “What are you doing outside there, don’t you know there’s lightning?! You two get in here right now!” I think we were about to get spanked and sent to bed without dinner. Jim had been caught out on the lake himself and was heading at top speed to the nearest shelter, Rebel’s Isle. He had seen us on the porch and he wasn’t kidding, he was upset. Once inside with the doors and windows closed he explained a few things about lightning, how it will travel down a tree and kill you if you sit out on a porch in a rocking chair. It’s been many years since but we took his advice very much to heart. When lightning threatens we go inside and watch through closed windows.

In the beginning there was no electricity on Rebel’s Isle, there was propane. There was propane for the stove, propane for the refrigerator, for the lights, and the flash water heater. it was stored in two lethal looking tanks outside the kitchen window. Everyone who’s had any experience with propane will go to great length to tell you how safe it is. They will then relate the story of how uncle Fred got all the hair on his legs singed off in that explosion that one time. Someone else will tell about the cabin that was leveled when a leak was discovered by a match. To say I was uneasy about this would vastly understate the case. Even so, here we were with a propane-based system and years of trouble free use. Why worry? So I didn’t. Oh, there was that little thing about the carbon monoxide poisoning. In the early days we slept in a vintage folding coouch out on the cooking porch while renovations were going on. We would wake with this splitting headache that was totally un-attributable to the prior evening's wine consumption. It proved to be the refrigerator that was leaking propane into the room while we slept. This little problem was resolved by one of Jim’s friends on the lake. A man who owned the local Home Hardware, who came and serviced the fridge for us. He wouldn’t take a dime for doing it but he was happy to accept the micky of dark rum that Jim suggested. Call it an insight into cottage economics. From then on we also made sure to sleep with the windows open. My uneasy peace with propane was blown to bits (figuratively) by a weekly ritual called lighting the pilot on the flash water heater. Propane is heavier than air. When a propane tank leaks the gas will follow gravity down a hill. The flash heater is slightly uphill from the propane tanks. Thank goodness. Every Friday one of my chores was to raise a flap, get on my knees and stick my head into the crawl space, reach over and press the pilot light igniter. A spark would be produced and after two or three tries the pilot would light with a whoosh. On this particular occasion, with the pilot light lit I crawled back out from under the cabin, and chanced to walk around the downhill side of the cottage where the distinct odour of propane gas met my nostrils. Lots of it, a whole tank had somehow decided to drop its load. Fortunately, propane gas is heavier than air and leaking gas will flow downhill. Away from a pilot light on a flash heater. That could have been some flash.