The sun had set and it was getting dark when we broke for a quick dinner around 7:30. I do not recall much of the actual meal, only that I brought the last two packages of freeze dried Neapolitan ice cream (which we did not eat) and that we made the decision to go back to the site and work by headlamp and flashlight. Our principal tasks were running the PVC on the west tank and hanging the zinc. To this day I remain iffy about the zinc, and also believe hat the locals could handle it they wanted to. It also would make one hell of a racket, nailing those sheets up in the middle of the night. That should have been my biggest problem.
We stopped by the shack to pick up our light sources and Elizabeth and Marianna stayed back to get their packing ready. The rest of us schlepped back to el rancho and did the divide and conquer thing. Now, in all fairness, it was starting to become another pretty long day and my recollection is imperfect, but I believe Chip and I, plus or minus Tim at times, were nailing up the zinc on the finished east side tank while Mike and Frank did the PVC cutting and cementing on the west. Or something like that. All kidding aside, Chip is pretty dead on with a hammer and I asked whether he had done construction which he answered in the negative. Anyways, I know that I was starting to get a bit loopy. I was periodically singing out lout. At one point it was The Stones "You Can't Always Get What You Want", at another it was Janis Joplin's "Mercedes Benz". Chip joined me on the latter and we rotated verses. At another point we were hammering away and I started hammering in a "pause-hit-hit" waltz time and started singing "On the Beautiful Blue Danube Waltz" to it. Like I said, I was getting a little loopy.
The other thing about hanging the zinc is that we were pre-drilling the nail holes. Now, that damn Nispero was so dense and wet that the cuttings tended to cling to the tip of the drill bit where they heated up to the point at which they were actually burning. The air was permeated with the smell of burnt wood and there was smoke curling out of the drill hole. Chip and I were taking turns swapping out drilling and hammering duties as we worked on. I tend to lean into the drill with my shoulder and upper body so the smoke that poured out of the drill holes was pretty intense. Chip kind of hooted at it with a "look at that stuff" kind of sound and I would bend down and dip the drill bit into the mud to cool it down. We were pushing hard and had to be careful about safety as the machete-cut zinc had plenty of nasty burrs and edges. "71 Days Without an Injury" was the motto in my head. Remember, this is all being done in the absolute dark save for LED headlamps and my solar-powered lantern.
Somewhere I guess just before 10 pm both groups finished our tasks and stood back for a minute to survey our work. I would have paid good money for a fresh Bolivar right then. The zinc was up on the east side and the plumbing was connected into the west side drum. Time to open the valve and test the seals. We had not had any problems at all on the east side and were not expecting one on the west. But we got one anyway. We opened the inflow valve and once again listened to the splashing of the water flowing into the tank. Somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2 full the sound changes and becomes softer and less turbulent. As the noise of the turbulence faded away I suddenly became aware of a dripping noise from the bottom of the tank. Not just an occasional drip, but a steady stream, like a 60 year old guy with an enlarged prostate. It was not subtle and was not going to fix itself. As the water level in the tank rose the leak grew more voluminous. It seemed to be coming off the bottom of the tank, but that was not particularly informative. I ordered the inflow valve to be shut off and I tried to manually sweep along the bottom and side of the tanks to determine the most likely site of the leak. And, boy, did I find it. To my dismay the leak seemed to be coming off the back of the barrel itself where the lid was held fast to the drum by the barrel vise clamp, possibly the one we had had welded by Richard. I tried to dry off the bottom of the tank with a rag and moved around to the back of the tank (the lid side) between the back of the tank stand and the wall of el rancho. Narrow confines but accessible once I carefully stepped over the first flush piping. It was kind of like standing in a three dimensional box. The lid of the barrel and the steel hoop-like clamp were directly in front of me and as I ran my hand around the rim of the sideways barrel I could feel the water dripping into my hand. The lid was not sealing properly and water was flowing between the drum wall and the lid. Chip and I would later speculate about the fitness of using these drums in the horizontal position for water storage and would come to some very interesting conclusions. In any it didn't matter as they were what we had and we had to make it work.
The first thing to do was to open the cask and inspect the lid and gasket. This meant draining the barrel: doing so by opening the front spigot and letting the water drain would take at least 15 minutes of longer. It was now after 10 and we did not have the luxury of that kind of time. We would have to spring open the hoop vise and just dump the whole 40 gallons at once. As I was standing there in the mud anyway, this choice assignment fell to me. I have never been one to dodge a task if it moves things along, and besides, a quick bath might be kinda nice. I pulled up on the lever and loosened the steel hoop rim and entire contents of the drum dumped out onto my chest and abdomen and ran into my boots. Up until those boots had remained completely dry. Now they became miniature swimming pools strapped to my feet.
I removed the clamp and the lid from the drum and thoroughly (as thoroughly as one can with a flashlight) inspected it, looking for anything that might interfere with the seal. Nothing stood out and the rubber gasket seemed good. The only thing I noticed was a small white rubber wedge nipple situated just below the molded rim of the drum that, I believe, acted as a one-way gas vent to allow expanding air or gases to exit the barrel when it was in the upright position. Laid on it's side it just allowed a 1/4" stream to flow out. Since it was basically a one-way flap valve, my first remediation was to pull it out and put it in backwards so it would act a a stopper. Hopefully as simple as that. We had already chewed up another half hour or so and by the time I had made the change, re-sealed the lid and started re-filling the tank it was approaching 11 pm. (Also, please note the lack of photos - I was unable to take photos as I was pretty much occupied with the problem at hand - there are a few shots of these events among the students and I will try to get them later during the week and add them in, especially one of that nasty little valve device).
Once again we heard the sound of water flowing into the tank. We had dried the bottom off and eagerly awaited the tank's filling hoping it would stay dry. Unfortunately, after the inflow sounds had ceased (indicating greater than half-full) as slow but persistent drip commenced. Not nearly as bad as the first go round, but still too much to overlook. There was no reason for it to be coming from the little flap valve as, now that it had been reversed the pressure of water against it would have sealed it shut. No, there was something else wrong and it meant another take lid removal procedure. Oh well, it was not get make me any wetter than I already was but it was now past 11 pm and we were all getting very tired. Not only was I loopy, prone to bursts of manic laughter, I was getting snippy and cranky. Chip suggested we knock off and resume in the morning but I insisted on pushing ahead. Following another bath we explored the other two likely causes; one, being that the vise-clamp was not pulling down hard enough radially; the other, being a poor seal or seating of the gasket. Either one or both of these could be the problem and we had no way of knowing which it was. The major issue was that fixing these problems would make future maintenance for Ambrosio either more difficult or downright impossible. One of the more important points was that the lids could be easily removed and the barrels scrubbed out as part of routine maintenance. Tightening the vise-clamp (possible by laying duck tape beneath it to bulk up the volume) would make it tough to remove and would have to be re-taped after cleaning or else it would leak. Sealing the gasket with silicone caulk would most likely fix it but would render the tank permanently sealed. It was our nuclear option.
Closing in on midnight we decided to try the duck tape option first and we where that left us. I was now wet and giddy from exhaustion and wrapping a layer or two of duck tape on the flat, not side surface of the barrel rim turned out to be a very challenging task. I felt like a diver trying to do a routine task with a hefty bit of nitrogen narcosis; it just was not as easy as it looked and that damn duck tape tends to toke to stick to itself. I repeated a two-word mantra over and over again, the second word of which is "Me!". Eventually I got two full turns around the inside rim of the barrel (this however, was after, or external, to the gasket so that even if not perfectly flat it would not cause leakage - it's sole purpose was to increase the force required, and hence transmitted, by the hoop clamp) and we mounted the lid and struggled to get the clamp shut. In fact, I used a hammer to tap it the final inch home.
We opened the valve and listened as water flowed in. Half way up the sound again muffled down and we were still dry; a few minutes went by and still dry. Seems we had it. Then, no. A single drop. I wiped it away, re-dried the area and waited. In a few seconds another drop formed, then another. It was still leaking. I timed it against my second hand and found we were getting between 15 and 20 drops per minute. Better than the last time, but still, an unacceptable leak. It now came down to two stark choices - either the nuclear option of caulking the lid and sealing it for good, or abandoning the tank and letting the community use the east side for chlorination and just keep the west side untreated as it was for non-drinking purposes. The latter was not a horrible option and these things must always be weighed in light of the "first do no harm" dictum.
It was now 1 am. I had been there for 19 hours and the others were at or about 18 hours. Union rules - time to go home. We packed up and headed back to the shack to catch a few hours sleep then return and decide what our course was to be. One way or the other, in 11 hours we would be getting on a boat back to Isla Colon. Now, just to add a bit of drama, as we approached the shack, Elizabeth and Marianna came running up the trail to meet us. Of course, I assumed they were concerned about our safety, but in fact, they were fleeing the shack as it had been invaded by a crab crawling around the floor and a bat flying around inside. Tough to sleep under those circumstances to be sure.
Someone killed the crab by stepping on it and we searched thoroughly for the bat but didn't find it. Hopefully, if it came back, the mosquito netting would deter it. We settled in as best we could and tried to get a few hours rest.
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