…just so some poor sucker doesn’t have to dig my grave.
Has anyone reading this blog ever dug out a wellhead? If so was it marked, on a map or even better on the ground? My one wasn’t. The only thing I could go by was Alec saying ‘They built it while I was away but I think it should be around here… you see I came back from a party one night and nearly crashed my truck into it. Of course it stuck three feet out of the ground back then but that was forty years ago…’
I dug, and dug, and dug. My mantra was ‘find the pipe and you will find the well. I got so far down that I could have buried my wife in it, if I wasn’t so fond of her cooking and her company that is. Just as I was about to give up, about four and a half hours in, I found it. The pipe that is. Not quite a whoop but certainly a bit more motivation to dig on. I then had to chase the pipe round in a big ‘C’ for Charlie until it disapeared. Another foot or so down and I found the well head.
I then spent the next hour scooping out gravel, cleaning it up, revealing it’s secrets, snapping bolts, tearing knuckles, and utterly failing to get the cap off.
At least it didn’t snow today.