Cottage Memories
Chronicles Of A City Boy’s Life In The Country
By Craig Nicholson
SEPTIC WOES
The next few months herald a new awakening, nature springing back to life. I hope the microbes in my septic get the memo.
Septic systems are like a bad joke that no one gets. Except the punch line passes under your fanny, not over your head. Nobody seems to know much about septics. They are easy to ignore, being out of sight and out of mind. Kind of like credit card charges. And as long as the toilet keeps flushing, who cares?
Rumour was that our cottage had one, but who knew where? Being a city boy, used to municipal sewers, I gave it no thought until, as they say, “one went down but two came up” when I flushed the toilet. That left our old outhouse as temporary back-up. “Not temporary enough,” declared the wife, reminding me why that the little brown shack is out back.
Yes, the outhouse is where I get bit or frozen, depending on the season. It’s a place that stinks, where creepy-crawlies have their way, and where I’m careful not to drop my phone. There is never a line-up, at least not of people. But the wife will have none of it. She’s avoided outhouses ever since a horse tried to join her in one (another story for another day). So her idea of temporary back-up is renting a motel room in town.
So I called for help. The operator said it was not a 911 emergency, but her toilet probably works. Then I recalled an ad that read: “A royal flush is better than a full house” and phoned, gambling that it was not a card shark. “It won’t flush!”, I said, and he asked where it is. “Floating in the bowl,” I replied – “Oh, you mean my septic? What does it look like?”
Buried somewhere flat and nearby, but I’d have to find it myself before he’d come. So, with a metal rod and sledge I aerated the lawn as if searching for some long-forgotten cemetery or buried treasure.
Several hundred holes later, I had it pegged and Mr. Flush said he’d hurry out with his honey wagon.
Not knowing what bees had to do with septics, I kept my mouth shut. The “wagon” turned out to be a large tanker truck complete with vacuum pump and long hose. The “honey” is what’s pumped. I am now suspicious of road signs offering “Honey For Sale” – and of what the wife really means using that endearment on me.
That spring, I had to replace my septic. Not surprising, after years of unappreciated service. After all, we expect our septic systems to handle new demands, larger families, more use and numerous household chemicals without complaint. But replacing it was painful, largely because there was nothing visible or glamorous to show for the expenditure. I mean, does anyone ever invite friends over for a celebratory ribbon cutting? What’s more, I had to use the outhouse for a week in black fly season. The wife says she’s never seen calamine lotion applied there before.
The following winter brought more septic woes. Drain pipes insufficiently buried or insulated can freeze solid, another invisible occurrence. At least until our toilet backed up all over the bathroom floor. Shocked that my new septic tank had filled so quickly, I consulted a neighbour who suggested frozen pipes, but declined to help. Now I know why…
There’s a large nut at the elbow where the drain pipe exits the basement wall. When I unscrewed it to see what was what, about five gallons more of backed up honey burst out than my one-gallon bucket would hold. The wife was impressed that now both the bathroom and the basement were flooded.
Peering into the exit pipe with a flashlight, I spotted a frozen blockage. After four hours with a red-hot poker, hair dryer, boiling water, a pick and searing curses, I broke through. The wife said it reminded her of my bar-b-cueing.
That spring, I dug and insulated the pipes. Aside from the groundhog who stole some insulation (to maintain his own drains no doubt), my septic has functioned properly ever since. I even planted a flowerbed on top. Although It’s now withered as if the gardener must have died, my septic won’t go missing again.
Meanwhile, I’m doing my part by using the outhouse more. That takes a load off the septic and it isn’t crowded. Just me sitting there, wondering what ate the toilet paper again.
Craig Nicholson is a long-time Kawarthas cottager who also provides tips and tour info for snowmobilers at intrepidsnowmobiler.com and for PWC riders at intrepidcottager.com.
