Today was exhausting, long, and stressful. I drove to Bangor to pick up the roofing materials, and just as I was leaving camp, I ran into Selectman Chaffee coming up Democrat Ridge Road. We had a nice chat — he was checking to make sure the loggers had improved the road so my neighbor’s guests this weekend could get through in their low-clearance vehicles. That was thoughtful of him.
Our conversation turned to taxes. He mentioned that in our district of about 70-some residents, there are only five school-aged children — and they attend school in another district. The town has to pay over $200,000 each year for their education, while total annual tax revenue is just a little over $100,000. He seemed concerned about what this might mean for future taxes.
At the roofing company, everyone was friendly again, but I quickly discovered my truck wasn’t going to work for the load. The order included about 20 sixteen-foot furring boards — not exactly a good fit for a six-foot truck bed — plus 12-foot roofing panels. In typical Maine neighborly fashion, they offered me a massive trailer: 8 feet wide by 24 feet long. It could easily carry the load… but towing it was another story. It was the heaviest thing I’ve ever hauled, and definitely a “tail wagging the dog” situation. On the highway, stopping felt like being on ice — the anti-lock brakes clicked constantly, and quick stops weren’t an option. It was a white-knuckle drive back.
Still, I managed to back the trailer down the lane to make unloading easier — a small point of pride — and got everything offloaded. Since I had the trailer, I called Treeline to see if they had the decking boards for the marsh walkway. They did, so I hustled over before closing and bought two bundles of 1x6x12s — 168 boards in all. Back at camp, I unloaded them at the end of the new driveway, ready for the next project.
On the way out, I noticed the loggers using the top of a 20-foot tree, branches and all, as a giant broom to sweep and smooth the road — a funny but surprisingly effective solution.
By the time I got back to the cabin, it was dark. A full 12-hour day, and I felt every bit of it.