Met with a client today and had one of those experiences you really don't want to repeat.
Sounds simple enough. Cut a tract of hopefully at least three acres out of the southwest corner of the west half of the southeast quarter of the section with a doublewide home he no longer needs. Worked across the road in 1989 so have the section line under control fairly simply. The problem is to access a bar roughly one-quarter mile north along the west line or, even better, a stone three-quarters of a mile north which was the basis for the bar getting set by a now-deceased surveyor back in 1986.
We load up in his sidebyside somethingorother and head out into the great unknown. Did I mention that 85 acres of that 80 is loaded with boulders, ditches, thorn-type trees of every size and variety, poison younameit, cedars of all sizes and a collection of trails a bit narrower than what we are traveling in. Some people drive several hours, pay over $50 a head, wait in line for a hour per experience and risk certain death to have similar experiences that only last a few seconds instead of over one hour. We did eventually break into the clear when we reached the adjoiner's property. Clear being a relative term when you consider most of the vegetation we drove through was four to six feet high, but limber. Hard to know where the two-foot deep ditches are on the neighbor's property until you drive into them. Gave up on our attempt to get to the site of the aforementioned stone. Returned halfway through the disaster on his land and then he says, "Gotta show you something special." New narrow trails take us to a sandstone bottomed kinda dry creek. Learned that a few trees were blocking the trail but, what the heck, this thing will get over them. Well, all but one. He had to crawl out, find the power cable in the rear to stretch to the front to connect to the winch, dig through the little glove box to find the little remote that controlled the winch (meanwhile I'm praying to Saint Elmo or someone similar that the battery is up to par), reeled out about 15 feet to a two-foot diameter tree that happened to be right in the middle of the ditch, hopped back in, put it in gear, hit the winch button and WOOOOWWWWEEEEEE we leap over the tree and get stopped about six inches from the tree. All of the winch operations go into reverse. Finally we wedge ourselves past the big tree to continue driving down the ditch to see boulders and solid rock everywhere plus a couple minor caves, some of the solid rock was as much as thirty feet above us. Came to a fork in the ditch with a sign post and a bunch of little signs with mileage to Canada, Japan and other remote locations. Fortunately, he took the fork leading to his house and normal driving conditions. I only banged my shoulder severely once somehow. It didn't help much that his two dogs viewed me as being a great window ledge on which to stand with their wet, dirty paws until the one flew out the window during the tree winching encounter. It beat us to the house.
Once back on the county road I informed him that he really didn't want to pay us to attempt to access the control monuments by repeating what we had just gone through. So we drove to see another neighbor and received permission to drive through his nearly treeless, relatively smooth pasture to do what we needed to do in probably ten percent of the time it would take the other way.
I'm gonna feel this tomorrow..................for sure.
Holy Cow, post: 376671, member: 50 wrote: Met with a client today and had one of those experiences you really don't want to repeat.
Sounds simple enough. Cut a tract of hopefully at least three acres out of the southwest corner of the west half of the southeast quarter of the section with a doublewide home he no longer needs. Worked across the road in 1989 so have the section line under control fairly simply. The problem is to access a bar roughly one-quarter mile north along the west line or, even better, a stone three-quarters of a mile north which was the basis for the bar getting set by a now-deceased surveyor back in 1986.
We load up in his sidebyside somethingorother and head out into the great unknown. Did I mention that 85 acres of that 80 is loaded with boulders, ditches, thorn-type trees of every size and variety, poison younameit, cedars of all sizes and a collection of trails a bit narrower than what we are traveling in. Some people drive several hours, pay over $50 a head, wait in line for a hour per experience and risk certain death to have similar experiences that only last a few seconds instead of over one hour. We did eventually break into the clear when we reached the adjoiner's property. Clear being a relative term when you consider most of the vegetation we drove through was four to six feet high, but limber. Hard to know where the two-foot deep ditches are on the neighbor's property until you drive into them. Gave up on our attempt to get to the site of the aforementioned stone. Returned halfway through the disaster on his land and then he says, "Gotta show you something special." New narrow trails take us to a sandstone bottomed kinda dry creek. Learned that a few trees were blocking the trail but, what the heck, this thing will get over them. Well, all but one. He had to crawl out, find the power cable in the rear to stretch to the front to connect to the winch, dig through the little glove box to find the little remote that controlled the winch (meanwhile I'm praying to Saint Elmo or someone similar that the battery is up to par), reeled out about 15 feet to a two-foot diameter tree that happened to be right in the middle of the ditch, hopped back in, put it in gear, hit the winch button and WOOOOWWWWEEEEEE we leap over the tree and get stopped about six inches from the tree. All of the winch operations go into reverse. Finally we wedge ourselves past the big tree to continue driving down the ditch to see boulders and solid rock everywhere plus a couple minor caves, some of the solid rock was as much as thirty feet above us. Came to a fork in the ditch with a sign post and a bunch of little signs with mileage to Canada, Japan and other remote locations. Fortunately, he took the fork leading to his house and normal driving conditions. I only banged my shoulder severely once somehow. It didn't help much that his two dogs viewed me as being a great window ledge on which to stand with their wet, dirty paws until the one flew out the window during the tree winching encounter. It beat us to the house.
Once back on the county road I informed him that he really didn't want to pay us to attempt to access the control monuments by repeating what we had just gone through. So we drove to see another neighbor and received permission to drive through his nearly treeless, relatively smooth pasture to do what we needed to do in probably ten percent of the time it would take the other way.
I'm gonna feel this tomorrow..................for sure.
I hate that "poison younameit" stuff. And you can't hold too much of a grudge against someone that will take his 2 best hounds out in the field!
Ice packs and a "Bloody Bull" for the shoulder. A Bloody Bull is a Bloody Mary with beef broth and served hot. Make sure there's a blanket and pillow handy..:snarky:
Aw, you see there, this is your sign. Your sign that it is TIME to sign up one of the grandkids, or somebody who is unmarried, and is less than 20 yrs old, to start apprenticing, and learning your trade. It is simply NOT HEALTHY for you to participate on this level!
🙂
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If it seemed easy, then that would be the time to worry that I am on the wrong path.
Ain't that the truth?!?!
Reminds me of an experience I had about 20 years ago. Same sort of territory, but owner had died. 400 acres was inherited by a nephew that lived out of state that didn't have a clue about the property, just wanted it surveyed to sell it. Found an elderly neighbor that said he knew where a couple of the corners were. He insisted he would show them to me, so we got in his Gator and headed back through the wilderness. When he stopped he said one corner was not far through the woods, so we went the rest of the way on foot. Ended up fighting through about a half mile of thick stuff and over a few hills and hollers and sure enough there was an old axle sticking out of the ground. So we turned around a had gone maybe a couple hundred feet when I heard a loud "CRACK" behind me. The old guy had stepped up on a rotten log that gave way and snapped his ankle. Oh, yeah, it was about 100 degrees and humid, too. So after I got him propped up and his boot off, it was obvious he wasn't walking out. No cell phones then. So he gave me some directions on how to get to his son's house, which was closer in the other direction. I remember I had on a brand new pair of boots that really needed some breaking in. I got pointed in the right direction and luckily managed to run/walk and emerge in the son's back yard and he was home. We had to walk back and find the gator, then take another route to make the rescue. After a lot of wedging between trees and riding over saplings we managed to get close enough we could carry him to the gator and get out of there. He was laid up for a couple of months, developed a few other complications in the meantime, and died not long after. I did go back to see him and thank him while he was laid up and he was thrilled that he had been so much help.
Reminds me of master drainage plan survey that was done for a SE La parish. Had to investigate all canals, major ditches, irrigation etc etc.
There were some major sugar cane fields that went as far as the eye could see. The farmer told me "no problem", that he would take me out to see everything in his patched up WW2 Army vintage Willy's jeep. He told me when to come back the next day.
I was so excited (maybe too excited) to have the opportunity to ride in this Willys that I had only known from classic Hollywood movies where they were always cool.
Next day we met and headed out down a headland...little rough
Then he veered off the headland into cane, ruts and rows, ditches and it was all getting a little crazy.
It appeared that he was trying to get at max speed at times to plow through something and/or hop ditches. That jeep didn't hop but it sure could bounce. After about 2 hours, I was whipped. In my head, the soundtrack looping was the Beatle's Helter Skelter.I was surprised that we never flipped or rolled but I guess that was the strong point of the jeep besides trudging along. I sure thought we could flip a few times.
Went back did the work with the Suburban and a compact pickup.
Stayed on farm roads and headlands with no problems
My first survey boss here in LA told me that 4wd can get you into big trouble. He didn't want 4wd.
WWII vintage Jeeps are unique. I'm amazed that something that weighs that much can actually top out at 35 to 40 mph.
I think the secret to their stability (and weight) is the 7 1/2 ton transfer case. I happen to know the exact weight because I was foolish enough to think I could "help" with the removal of one out of my buddy's '42. I took the underneath position thinking I could cradle it after removal; much like the old three speed chevy tranny.
I remember somebody hollered "it's coming..". Then the world went black. My last conscious thought was wishing I had filled my lungs with air before the elephant sat on my chest. I don't know how long my buddy was gone to get help. It felt like he went indoors and decided to have lunch...I guess he figured I really wasn't going anywhere. I was eventually extracted and revived. My desire to work on Willys Jeeps has steadily declined since then.
But I will admit they are a blast to "bounce" around in.
Canada is not too remote, eh....
[USER=2901]@Mike Mac[/USER]
Laughing here. Only been there twice and both times were brief trips from Detroit southerly into Ontario and back in a matter of a few hours. It seemed so incredibly wrong to travel south to get from the US (first 48 States) to Canada.o.O One trip was via the bridge and the other was via the tunnel.