Home Ownership: The American Dream
“I believe wherever dreams dwell, the heart calls it home. So may you untangle yourself from the twist of melancholy and ley your thoughts carry you back to the birthplace of your truth.” – Dodinsky
Linda and I were living in a mobile home in Uniontown, Washington. Rent was cheap and we were attempting to save some money to buy some land and build a house. On a drive one Sunday afternoon, we saw a sign on the highway at the top of a ridge north of Moscow, Idaho that said, “5 acre lots for sale”. We turned off onto the gravel road, drove for about a mile and discovered that the two lots at the end of the road were still for sale. One lot was forested and faced north. The other lot was planted in wheat and faced south. Both views were beautiful. Being at the top of the ridge, we could see for miles and miles. We fell in love with the property, called the owner and made an offer. In no time at all we were the proud owners of two five-acre lots and were now completely broke.
Our beautiful view lots did not come with wells so I searched through the yellow pages for well contractors and finally spoke with Bud DeTray of DeTray Well Drilling in Lewiston. Bud said he’d be glad to give us an estimate and that he had drilled most of the wells up on our mountain. He warned me that the rock structure in the area was “rotten granite” and that the wells in the area were marginal but of sufficient flow that with water storage, would be adequate for a household. He asked me if he should bring his water finding equipment. Quite surprised that such equipment actually existed, I said, “sure”, and we agreed on a date and time to meet at the property.
Being a little concerned about having adequate water I scheduled an appointment with a geologist at the University of Idaho who was an expert in local geologic formations. He assured me that Bud was correct in his analysis of the underlying rock and went on to tell me that he may have slightly over-estimated the water flow from the wells. I asked him about the water-finding equipment and he smiled, no, grinned from ear-to-ear and told me he wasn’t aware of any scientific tools for determining where to drill.
Soon, I met with Bud at the property and he stepped out of his pick-up and grabbed a couple of welding rods that had one end bent into a handle. I asked him what they were for and he announced that they were his water finding tools. I tried not to be rude but I was so doubled up trying to stifle my laughter that tears were coming out of my eyes. He asked if I was a bit skeptical and I had to admit that, yes, yes, I was. He continued walking down a path toward our south facing lot with his arms held straight out in front of him holding a welding rod in each outstretched hand. After a few steps, the welding rods crossed and he announced that there was water there and he marked the location with a stick. He walked up the path a little further, turned around and walked back towards the stick. About two feet from the stick the welding rods crossed again and he marked the spot where they crossed and told me that this water seam that he had just located was only two feet wide and that there were probably better spots to be found. I asked him to do it again. This time I was closely watching his hands to see if there was any movement. Bud backed up and then walked forward again. At the exact same spot on the trail, the rods crossed. There was no discernible movement of his hands. I asked him to do it again. And again there was no apparent movement of his hands, fingers or arms. I asked him if he had another set of water finding equipment and he smiled and said, “yes I think I do. But not very many people have this gift so don’t be surprised if it doesn’t work for you.” I took the rods and walked slowly down the path. When I came to the marker, the rods turned in my hands. I backed up, gripped the rods even harder and moved forward toward the marker. No matter how hard I gripped the rods, they turned in my hands at the exact location every time. Bud declared that I was a water witch and I proudly walked around the five acres marking each location that the rods crossed. There was one location that was wider than the others and the welding rods seemed to cross more strongly than in the other areas. I called Bud over to confirm. He had the same result. We marked the area and set a date for the well drilling to commence.
And commence it did. At $20 per foot, Bud drilled and drilled. He assured me that most wells on the mountain were about 200 feet deep which would cost me about $4000. That seemed like an awful lot of money to me, but we committed to getting water from the location I had determined and due to my very special water finding powers, was about to be a real gusher. Possibly an artesian well. Maybe there’d be so much water we would build a trout pond.
Bud drilled and drilled. 200 feet no water. Bud gave me my options. We could pull up and try another location in which case I would owe him $4000 for a dry hold in the ground plus whatever it cost to drill in the new location or we could keep going another 20 feet. If we hit water, I would owe him for a 220 foot well. If not, there would be no extra charge. We plunged forward. 220 feet. No water. Same offer from Bud; keep drilling and if we hit water at 240 feet, I would owe him for 240 feet of well. If not, no extra charge. And so it continued. 260 feet. 280 feet. 300 feet. 320 feet. 340 feet. 360 feet. At 360 feet the rock changed. We hit sand. “Good news”, says Bud. The sand is a good thing. “I think we are getting close.” “I need a cardiologist”, I say. “And if we keep going, you will need to accept a payment plan.” “Don’t give up”, Bud says. “We’re almost there.” 380 feet. 390 feet and “whoosh”, up comes water. I felt my blood pressure start to fall a bit until I calculated how much this hole in the ground was going to cost us. Must be time to borrow some money.
Husbandry 