In the wee hours of Tuesday morning, around 1am, I got up from bed to get a little drink of water. And there was none. Dry silence. Again. Tom being in San Francisco for a couple of days to work with Dylan on his business plan, I put on some sweatpants and sneakers, grabbed a flashlight, and trudged outside to find out if there was a break in an outdoor line which could have drained the (2500 gal) holding tank. This was after I checked all the indoor faucets. Finding nothing amiss, I listened to the tank and heard a trickle of water refilling, so I turned the outside water off and went back to bed.Next morning, there was still no water, but I figured that it might take more time to fill the tank to the "usable" level, so I didn't think too much of it. However, by noon, the trickle had ceased and there was still no water in the pipes, so, after consulting Tom by phone, I called the well service.
Mike had been out 6 weeks before (after a few similar "dry spells") to tell us that our well pump was on its last legs. Obviously, this was it. Indeed, upon inspection Tuesday afternoon, his diagnosis was that the iron bacteria, over the five-year life of the pump, had clogged it so badly that it had become useless.
It was time for another lesson about living rural.Mike was at least able to set a new float in the tank so that I could use some of the 800 gallons that was already in there (and rendered unusable due to poor sensor placement), and scheduled a pump-replacement for the next morning.
Right on time, JC, our friendly, funny new best friend, arrived to make it all better. He's a neighbor, too, it turns out, living just down Greenhorn a few hundred feet from Hoppy Hollow. The photos tell the story: 1. The winch on the truck is just starting to pull the top of the water line out of the well, 2. The flexible line being wound onto the wheel, pulling the pump up from the bottom, 3. There's the old pump (that skinny cylinder), covered with orange iron bacteria, 4. JC doing his best Vanna White, showing off the shiny new pump, and, 5. The new pump in place, pumping out the built-up iron in the line. It ran clear after about a minute, then JC hooked it all back up.
He also took some measurements and our well turns out to be 146.5 feet deep. That's good. We thought it was much deeper, for some reason, but this means the water, while not exactly a gusher, is not too far down, especially in the driest part of the year.
So, with the help of Mike and JC, this week, we are now washing, flushing and irrigating, again. And much better-educated about our own system. They've told us how to mitigate the iron problem, so with a bit of uncharacteristic attention to regular maintenance, this pump should last longer than the last one.
Once again, we are very pleased with the folks on whom we've had to rely to help us in a crisis and teach us about these new (to us) infrastructures. Happy Harley-riding, JC!
