{"id":202,"date":"2012-02-26T18:32:26","date_gmt":"2012-02-26T18:32:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.sandralangston.com\/?p=202"},"modified":"2012-02-26T18:32:26","modified_gmt":"2012-02-26T18:32:26","slug":"a-deep-subject","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.sandralangston.com\/?p=202","title":{"rendered":"A deep subject"},"content":{"rendered":"

The water lines which supply the town didn’t come out this far when we built our house. \u00a0The obvious solution was to have a well dug, and keep our water tanks filled with well water. \u00a0 To do this, we needed an expert who had experience with our stratified terrain, which was comprised of hard sandstone “chiangare*<\/em>,” sandy soil patches, and, of course, sand. \u00a0Not the best material to collect and hold water.<\/p>\n

Word was spread around town, and a man appeared who seemed to meet the prerequisites. \u00a0He was from Pisticci, (because when an expert is needed it is always better not \u00a0to go local) \u00a0and we were assured that he had ample experience, \u00a0and was responsible for numerous productive wells in our area.<\/p>\n

We imagined that his first day on the job would bring heavy equipment, rumbling diesel motors, long \u00a0pipes and tangled cables, \u00a0all indecipherable to us. \u00a0We were amazed when, \u00a0punctually at 7 AM on the first morning, \u00a0there appeared a \u00a0three-wheeled\u00a0Ape*<\/em>\u00a0truck holding just a man with a pick\u00a0ax, a bucket, and a mission.<\/p>\n

The only thing he lacked, to my mind, was a forked stick. \u00a0He assured us, as had the town whisperers, that he had never failed to find water. \u00a0But finding it, assuming that veins were plentiful and ubiquitous, was not the main problem when digging a well. \u00a0It was much more difficult to capture and not break through the\u00a0falde*<\/em>, which were tiny and easily destroyed \u00a0with one blow too many to the fragile sedimentary strata. \u00a0This was the main reason why \u00a0it was practically impossible to drill a decent well mechanically. \u00a0The drill couldn’t recognize, of course, a vein when it found it. \u00a0But a man could.<\/p>\n

He produced a string from his pocket, and after a few minutes of contemplation and slow meandering steps around the area we had in mind for our well, staked the center of his circle and drew it in the dirt. \u00a0He then commenced the arduous task of picking \u00a0and shoveling out his meter-wide pit. \u00a0We watched, transfixed, as we soon lost sight of his ankles, his knees, his hips and torso.<\/p>\n

The second day, he arrived accompanied by his son, a strapping twenty-something who helped his father to descend faster by hauling up the buckets and porting them away. \u00a0At lunchtime, after they had consumed the contents of their \u00a0small stainless steel buckets of wonderful delicacies brought from home, they set up a winch and pulley system over the deepening hole. \u00a0We could no longer see the man, but the buckets of soil and sand and rock came out fast and furiously, pulled up by his son hand-cranking the winch. \u00a0Peering down inside, we saw a \u00a0perfect cilindrical chamber had been created, the negative image of the growing pile of sand and rock which grew steadily at the corner of the yard. \u00a0 It descended about twenty feet by day three, and began to cause us great concern as to the stability of its unsupported walls.<\/p>\n

But our guys had a plan, and they brought forth two half-circle aluminum forms which would be employed, along with cement, to create the walls of the well. \u00a0 As he burrowed further down, he placed these forms inside the cilinder and his son sent down buckets of cement which he had mixed in a small two-stroke diesel tumbler. \u00a0As each three-foot length of wall was created, he set to work picking away the ground underneath. \u00a0When enough earth was removed the rings would slide seamlessly down to the next level, and another cement fill was created.<\/p>\n

Every time he came up out of the well, he would drop a pebble at the center. \u00a0This method, in the days before lasers, would indicate immediately if his vertical cylinder was perfectly symmetrical. \u00a0The eye is, after all, \u00a0always the best judge of space, and an artist’s eye especially.<\/p>\n

Down and down, impossibly far down he went. \u00a0I experienced cold sweat peering down at him, \u00a0claustrophobia making my palms clammy, imagining myself in the damp half-dark tunnel. \u00a0He began to tell us that he was finding signs of water at about 30 feet, but the veins were too weak. \u00a0As soon as they were discovered, they bled out. \u00a0The missions was to descend to a point where three or more small rivulets would supply enough water to allow a submersible pump to be installed.<\/p>\n

Looking down from above, seeing a vague outline of our man’s head at 75 feet, was eerily disturbing. \u00a0When he finally reached the depth he considered adequate, the final ring, slightly larger in diameter than the others, was installed. \u00a0There is no bottom to the well, just the natural sandstone layer. \u00a0 With a strong spotlight, we could see three finger-sized streams of water as they entered the flat reflective circle of water. \u00a0 It would supply only small amounts, but continuously pumped out and stored in tanks, this would be our drinking water.<\/p>\n

Our well water was \u00a0full of calcium and had a rusty taste, but some of our friends came with bottles to collect what they assured us was superior to any treated water available in town. \u00a0We have since switched to “town” water and we do not miss the problems caused by calcium, nor do we miss the possibility that some small animal could easily fall into the shaft and end up a soupy flavoring in our drinking water. \u00a0But while it is closed and locked now, and mostly a visual addition to the yard with its wisteria vine growing above, we know that if we should ever need that water it will be there. \u00a0And every time I open the heavy iron cover to look down into 80 feet of perfectly round shaft, I think of one man and his pick and how he \u00a0demonstrated to us yet another \u00a0manifestation of a true work of art.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

*chiangare<\/em>: \u00a0flat sandstone formations formed by flowing water millions of years ago<\/p>\n

*Ape<\/em>: \u00a0Made by Piaggio, a three-wheeled motor scooter with a cab and hauling bed behind. \u00a0It is the vehicle of choice for those that have no drivers license, and they can be encountered crawling along the roadways stuffed to the gills with farmers, their wives, \u00a0produce and small livestock.<\/p>\n

*falde<\/em>: \u00a0small tributary channels of water flowing deep below the ground<\/p>\n

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