Everything was coming to a close with the site, the plants are in, the structures are completely done. We were planning on being finished last Wednesday, the water feature got painted, tested and it works!
A few minor adjustments here and there, but it works, and works beautifully. We somehow have been very lucky with the weather so far, the days have been sunny, and if not really warm, not very cold either. Great for doing construction and getting projects done quickly. By the time we were finished last Wednesday the plan was only to work a half day Thursday to get some of the final cleanup and details done.
A few minor adjustments here and there, but it works, and works beautifully. We somehow have been very lucky with the weather so far, the days have been sunny, and if not really warm, not very cold either. Great for doing construction and getting projects done quickly. By the time we were finished last Wednesday the plan was only to work a half day Thursday to get some of the final cleanup and details done.
Thursday, however, had different plans for us.
We woke up to rain. Hard rain, and wind as well. Tentatively I dressed in rain gear and headed down with everyone while we started the last projects, cleaned up and moved trash off the site and out of our shop/garage. As the morning went on the rain didn't let up though, lightning and thunder rolled in and parked on top of the island, splitting the sky with light and sound every ten minutes.
By late morning torrential, apocalyptic and dangerous rain started. I've never seen rain and hail like that before. Within minutes the road and gutters were like rivers dumping water into a completely overrun drain at the bottom of the hill. On the site water pooled in the plaza immediately and dirt from the planting beds washed down into the gravel pathways. We took shelter in the garage and under the covered structure and soon the staff called it a day. It would have been dangerous and stupid to attempt to keep working in weather like that.
Through the day the storm never really went away, the rain would let up from time to time but lighting and thunder continued into the night. That evening the power was knocked out at the apartments, and as the official representative of the boonies in the program I went around to each apartment leaving candles and warning about the "1 flush rule".
The walk down to dinner in the hospital was memorable and terrifying. Straight out of Shutter Island at this point walking between the dark buildings to the dining hall.
"If lightning lights up figures wandering slowly toward us, I'm turning tail and running" one guy said.
"I'll be right there with you." I agreed.
Friday morning I was afraid to go to the site, the damage could have been really bad, and I didn't want to spend the weekend fixing it. Luckily there wasn't much damage, some washout from the planting beds and there was a large puddle at the front of the water feature that we would have to dig a trench and lay a new drainage pipe to fix. Digging the trench stabbed a my heart a little, the area was finished and seeing it completed and checked off the list then ripping it up hurts. Physically hurts. I've had to do it only a few times, but each time a little bit of your soul dies. I pulled out the plants we had put in the day before, under a few inches of water and moved them to higher ground, then we dug out a trench that will house the piping along the side of the water feature and under the boardwalk to the perf pipe on the other side that leads to the main drain.
Other than that everything seemed to be fine, our structures handled the wind, the water feature was full to the brim with rain that will have to be taken out so the mosaic can be cleaned and a couple other little things like that.
---
Most people went away for the weekend, but I wanted to stay and say goodbye to the island. On the free days I hiked a little to a part I'd never been, went back to my favorite coffee shops, and read in the sunshine in Rab for a short time. The island has become home, a temporary home for sure. But home none the less. Preparing emotionally to leave it and probably never come back isn't easy. Rab has a very unique culture to it, one I don't always understand, but it is charming.
I have met some wonderful people here on Rab, not to mention falling in love with the participants in the program. It's hard to think how unlikely it is that we will ever be in the same room again. Never again will I wake up and say good morning to my roommate, or ride into town in Luka's gigantic lime green van aka " The Candy Machine," or walk down to the dining hall arm in arm with Theresa, Patrick, Mark, or Sean.
Right now, everyone is coming up to get their clothes that we just wheeled back up from the laundry room, sorted and organized. The girls usually pick through the clothes first, generally there is an exclamation or two of: "I can't find my leggings!"
I hear Winterbottom coming up the stairwell making Luka and Carl laugh along behind him, figuring out plans for our final goodbye dinner. Even though it's just the workings of laundry day, it makes me sad to think that it will never happen again. I'd better enjoy it while I've got it.
I wonder if it's because back at home in 'real life' big changes like this happen more gradually when they are less formalized. Here, there is a tangible day when it will all be over. This great experiment will be done and I'll only have memories and pictures and a completed park half a world away to prove that it happened.
Every moment is precious.
Other than that everything seemed to be fine, our structures handled the wind, the water feature was full to the brim with rain that will have to be taken out so the mosaic can be cleaned and a couple other little things like that.
---
Most people went away for the weekend, but I wanted to stay and say goodbye to the island. On the free days I hiked a little to a part I'd never been, went back to my favorite coffee shops, and read in the sunshine in Rab for a short time. The island has become home, a temporary home for sure. But home none the less. Preparing emotionally to leave it and probably never come back isn't easy. Rab has a very unique culture to it, one I don't always understand, but it is charming.
I have met some wonderful people here on Rab, not to mention falling in love with the participants in the program. It's hard to think how unlikely it is that we will ever be in the same room again. Never again will I wake up and say good morning to my roommate, or ride into town in Luka's gigantic lime green van aka " The Candy Machine," or walk down to the dining hall arm in arm with Theresa, Patrick, Mark, or Sean.
Right now, everyone is coming up to get their clothes that we just wheeled back up from the laundry room, sorted and organized. The girls usually pick through the clothes first, generally there is an exclamation or two of: "I can't find my leggings!"
I hear Winterbottom coming up the stairwell making Luka and Carl laugh along behind him, figuring out plans for our final goodbye dinner. Even though it's just the workings of laundry day, it makes me sad to think that it will never happen again. I'd better enjoy it while I've got it.
I wonder if it's because back at home in 'real life' big changes like this happen more gradually when they are less formalized. Here, there is a tangible day when it will all be over. This great experiment will be done and I'll only have memories and pictures and a completed park half a world away to prove that it happened.
Every moment is precious.
 |
| Especially this one. |
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