I just read that Tropical Storm Karen is developing. I wondered if you started that today in the investor thread.Not if this rain keeps me stuck indoors (yes, it's raining again today.... sigh...)
Possible gap tomorrow evening, though.
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Sequestering carbon by land restoration and reforestation in Iceland
- Thread starter KarenRei
- Start date
I have a sister in Houston. I'm threatening to come visit her 
The forecast for today was good, and the weather was indeed... right up until the point where I left work as early as I could (I went to bed early last night specifically to work earlier today), wherein it started pouring. Sigh...
Maybe instead of a fence I should just build an ark...
Forecast for tomorrow doesn't look good. Wednesday looks better, if I dare hope that...
The forecast for today was good, and the weather was indeed... right up until the point where I left work as early as I could (I went to bed early last night specifically to work earlier today), wherein it started pouring. Sigh...
Maybe instead of a fence I should just build an ark...
Forecast for tomorrow doesn't look good. Wednesday looks better, if I dare hope that...
Bet TSLA
Active Member
Tropical Tidbits is always good and is mostly about Karen today. In, I think, rather controversial language, she is referred to as "weak" and "disorganized". Also characterized as unpredictable and possibly dangerous. But as soon as you're convinced it can't be even vaguely related to our local hero, concern is raised by the constant talk of "shear". Can it be a reference to a well known animosity to sheep? You be the judge.
An unexpected gap! Too bad I didn't go to work early today, so I only get out at the normal time.
Fall is nearing a middle. The first trees to start changing are now almost leafless, while the late ones are just starting to change colour.
I'm headed out. I get a bit concerned as I see what might be rain in the distance.
It turns out to be haze. The sun is annoyingly low already
But wait, it gets worse! Remember that roundup that was supposed to happen? See those faint white spots on the rim of the canyon on my side....
Yeah....
On the way there I pass an uprooted tree. Strangely, a spruce.
I manage to sneak successfully past them.
AWAY! Away with ye!
They actually go right out. Lucky me!
Looks like it might be getting ready to rain further up the valley...
After having seen (and passed by) one uprooted tree, I know I need to look for more.
Fall is nearing a middle. The first trees to start changing are now almost leafless, while the late ones are just starting to change colour.
I'm headed out. I get a bit concerned as I see what might be rain in the distance.
It turns out to be haze. The sun is annoyingly low already
But wait, it gets worse! Remember that roundup that was supposed to happen? See those faint white spots on the rim of the canyon on my side....
Yeah....
On the way there I pass an uprooted tree. Strangely, a spruce.
I manage to sneak successfully past them.
AWAY! Away with ye!
They actually go right out. Lucky me!
Looks like it might be getting ready to rain further up the valley...
After having seen (and passed by) one uprooted tree, I know I need to look for more.
I start searching... but I don't see much. Not simply "much of uprooted trees", but much of anything. Because, well... it's fall. Most of the trees around here are broadleaf, and they've lost their leaves, so they just look like sticks. They would have been hard enough to find in the grass and rocks even if it weren't fall. Even the conifers aren't easy to find, but I do find some - all intact.
I do, however, think that uprooted trees would be easier to see. I just don't see any near where the sheep were. That said, there was way too much land for me to cover well in the time available.
I head back to the known uprooted tree, and on the way, I find another. This one's rootball is pretty disturbed.
And there's eggs on it to boot. I clean them off before replanting.
I get back to the first tree I saw and replant it. It's raining pretty hard on Esja, but I only get an occasional bit of light drizzle, thankfully.
Another tree:
The rain keeps threatening, but not coming.
I find one more tree, but it's clearly been there for a while - to the point where it seems to have lightly rooted into its new position. So instead of fully replanting it, I do my best to partly stand it back up without disturbing the roots, and pack more soil around it.
I finish my rounds, knowing that I didn't come even close to inspecting everything in the area. I carry down one load of posts to the base of the ravine. As I head back up, in the dwindling light, I'm happy to see the waterfalls back (although they look drab in the twilight)
One more trip is all I have time for; it's getting darker than the pictures look. I carry down five steel posts for the rocky ground, which are heavier than they look.
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It'll be random luck as to whether I get another gap in the next couple days. But late in the week / weekend the forecast is looking better. For whatever I can trust it
I do, however, think that uprooted trees would be easier to see. I just don't see any near where the sheep were. That said, there was way too much land for me to cover well in the time available.
I head back to the known uprooted tree, and on the way, I find another. This one's rootball is pretty disturbed.
And there's eggs on it to boot. I clean them off before replanting.
I get back to the first tree I saw and replant it. It's raining pretty hard on Esja, but I only get an occasional bit of light drizzle, thankfully.
Another tree:
The rain keeps threatening, but not coming.
I find one more tree, but it's clearly been there for a while - to the point where it seems to have lightly rooted into its new position. So instead of fully replanting it, I do my best to partly stand it back up without disturbing the roots, and pack more soil around it.
I finish my rounds, knowing that I didn't come even close to inspecting everything in the area. I carry down one load of posts to the base of the ravine. As I head back up, in the dwindling light, I'm happy to see the waterfalls back (although they look drab in the twilight)
One more trip is all I have time for; it's getting darker than the pictures look. I carry down five steel posts for the rocky ground, which are heavier than they look.
-----
It'll be random luck as to whether I get another gap in the next couple days. But late in the week / weekend the forecast is looking better. For whatever I can trust it
LN1_Casey
Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus
Interlopers!
I know it's a hard process, and I'm over here in the peanut gallery, but I'm glad you are putting up the fense. I do think it'll be worth it in the long run, especially since the Sheep-neighbor doesn't seem to maintain their own fense line.
I know it's a hard process, and I'm over here in the peanut gallery, but I'm glad you are putting up the fense. I do think it'll be worth it in the long run, especially since the Sheep-neighbor doesn't seem to maintain their own fense line.
Agreed
Lots of work, but totally worth it. Once its in, it'll just need an annual inspection and the occasional patchup. Way better than dealing with sheep invasions!I talked to someone about what the sheep were still doing here... he said that if the weather's still good, ranchers will often keep the sheep that didn't go to the slaughterhouse out in fenced lowland pastures (I'd noticed that with the neighbor to my west in past years)... and apparently this neighbor considers his not-a-functional-fence to be good enough :Þ Well, lucky him, I chased his sheep up into the mountains on my side of the river, so I hope he has fun rounding them up again
It was drizzling on and off when I left work. But it looked worse to the south than the north, so I decided to go for it - and my hunch turned out right. Still, it was so late that long shadows were already being cast on the distant mountains:
No interlopers But limited time. Sigh, it vanishes so fast...
I start work on the posts that are already near the ground, hammering in a steel post to replace the out-of-alignment wooden one next to the ravine creek.
In the distance, horses have descended into the canyon and are right near my western fence. Thankfully - unlike sheep, who see fences as an offense and a challenge - horses around here generally respect them (I've never had a breakin from either horses or cattle).
This ground is such a pain and a slog. All hammering this steel post in did was work its way out.
And boy, did I ever hammer the heck out of it.
Here's what a failed hammering attempt with a wooden post did to the spike at the tip.
Doing my best to keep balanced. This area - between the ravine and the landslide zone - is a likely future landslide zone. I can actually hear water flowing in the ground beneath me in places.
I run out of wooden posts (in some places I can get them in), so I head back to fetch the out-of-alignment post by the ravine creek.
Thought the other post got mangled by its hammering? Hah, it has nothing on this one
I hammer it into a semi marshy place (working around buried rocks), and head to get more posts. This means either going up or crossing the landslide zone. I decide for the latter.
It is a bit concerning because it's been raining a lot recently, and the wetter it is, the higher the risk of landslides. That said, it's not nearly as wet as it gets during the spring melt. But it is wet enough to make cascades.
No interlopers
But limited time. Sigh, it vanishes so fast...I start work on the posts that are already near the ground, hammering in a steel post to replace the out-of-alignment wooden one next to the ravine creek.
In the distance, horses have descended into the canyon and are right near my western fence. Thankfully - unlike sheep, who see fences as an offense and a challenge - horses around here generally respect them (I've never had a breakin from either horses or cattle).
This ground is such a pain and a slog. All hammering this steel post in did was work its way out.
And boy, did I ever hammer the heck out of it.
Here's what a failed hammering attempt with a wooden post did to the spike at the tip.
Doing my best to keep balanced. This area - between the ravine and the landslide zone - is a likely future landslide zone. I can actually hear water flowing in the ground beneath me in places.
I run out of wooden posts (in some places I can get them in), so I head back to fetch the out-of-alignment post by the ravine creek.
Thought the other post got mangled by its hammering? Hah, it has nothing on this one
I hammer it into a semi marshy place (working around buried rocks), and head to get more posts. This means either going up or crossing the landslide zone. I decide for the latter.
It is a bit concerning because it's been raining a lot recently, and the wetter it is, the higher the risk of landslides. That said, it's not nearly as wet as it gets during the spring melt. But it is wet enough to make cascades.
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The stream on the other side of the landslide is somewhat smaller. But the whole area is marshy, and very hard to walk in without soaking one's shoes
Water flows straight out from the dirt.
I escape that uncomfortable place and get to my post stockpile at the construction site. A ship passes in the fjörd in the distance.
I gather up four posts - three for the shoulder, one for my free hand
I go above the marsh (and landslide), and then work my way back down.
Light is fading, but I decide to try to get all the posts in. No steel posts happen to be needed, although the last one seems to be struggling a bit around a buried rock. I slip and accidentally slam the handles of the post pounder on my thigh. That's going to bruise...
Time was short, but I guess this was a decent accomplishment, given the limited hours and the fairly hostile terrain. Next time I go out I'll have to fence across the landslide zone...
Civil twilight ("bright enough to actually accomplish things outside") is over. Now it's nautical twilight ("horizon glow still visible against the sea"). By the time I get home and eat dinner it will be astronomical twilight ("no horizon glow, so light no longer washes out the stars").
But nautical twilight is pretty
Water flows straight out from the dirt.
I escape that uncomfortable place and get to my post stockpile at the construction site. A ship passes in the fjörd in the distance.
I gather up four posts - three for the shoulder, one for my free hand
I go above the marsh (and landslide), and then work my way back down.
Light is fading, but I decide to try to get all the posts in. No steel posts happen to be needed, although the last one seems to be struggling a bit around a buried rock. I slip and accidentally slam the handles of the post pounder on my thigh.
That's going to bruise...Time was short, but I guess this was a decent accomplishment, given the limited hours and the fairly hostile terrain. Next time I go out I'll have to fence across the landslide zone...
Civil twilight ("bright enough to actually accomplish things outside") is over. Now it's nautical twilight ("horizon glow still visible against the sea"). By the time I get home and eat dinner it will be astronomical twilight ("no horizon glow, so light no longer washes out the stars").
But nautical twilight is pretty
It drizzled a few times during work today, but was clear when I headed out. The sky was mostly cloudy and a bit dismal... but hey, not windy / rainy / frigid, so I can't complain too much I left a bit earlier than yesterday, but probably lost most of that to rapidly dwindling daylight.
No woolen tree-eaters around, thankfully! My stock of posts at the base of the canyon is depleted, so I need to pick up some more. And it's somewhat of a slow and circuitous route to get down there without getting my feet soaked.
I finally get four posts down there. And on the third post, I manage to hit my other thigh with the handle - even harder than the last time. I can barely set a laptop on it right now.
It's tough because the ground here is awkward and it's hard to stand without falling; it limits where I can stand and makes it likelier that I'll misaim a strike at myself. :Þ
I finish up my last post and head back up, across the landslide and through the marshes on the other side. I've finished up the first pile at the construction side, so I move on to the second.
Four posts in hand, I head back down. I pass an uprooted spruce. It's not bitten, and appears to just be collateral damage. They're drought-hardy, so it appears to be fine, apart from the lack of anchoring. I replant it.
I get the new four posts in across the landslide (it's thankfully really easy to drive them in here... hopefully they'll be stable). The challenge is not getting soaked in the process. Sun runs out, and I'm only 40% across.... next up, I'll finish the landslide and move into the awkward marshes beyond it. Once I'm past that, it should be easy going for quite a while
I drive back in the twilight once again.
I left a bit earlier than yesterday, but probably lost most of that to rapidly dwindling daylight.No woolen tree-eaters around, thankfully! My stock of posts at the base of the canyon is depleted, so I need to pick up some more. And it's somewhat of a slow and circuitous route to get down there without getting my feet soaked.
I finally get four posts down there. And on the third post, I manage to hit my other thigh with the handle - even harder than the last time.
I can barely set a laptop on it right now.It's tough because the ground here is awkward and it's hard to stand without falling; it limits where I can stand and makes it likelier that I'll misaim a strike at myself. :Þ
I finish up my last post and head back up, across the landslide and through the marshes on the other side. I've finished up the first pile at the construction side, so I move on to the second.
Four posts in hand, I head back down. I pass an uprooted spruce. It's not bitten, and appears to just be collateral damage. They're drought-hardy, so it appears to be fine, apart from the lack of anchoring. I replant it.
I get the new four posts in across the landslide (it's thankfully really easy to drive them in here... hopefully they'll be stable). The challenge is not getting soaked in the process.
Sun runs out, and I'm only 40% across.... next up, I'll finish the landslide and move into the awkward marshes beyond it. Once I'm past that, it should be easy going for quite a while I drive back in the twilight once again.
Well, that thigh bruise from yesterday is starting to darken and lump up nicely :Þ I feel it a bit when I walk around.
Also not feeling that great otherwise. But I mean, look at this weather. I have to go
Unfortunately, there's a fairly strong, cold breeze when I arrive :Þ
I put on my jacket, knit cap, and earplugs (not for the post pounder, but simply for the wind ) and head out toward the post pile.
There's lanolin-coated arboricide-perpetrators grazing on the opposite side of the canyon. I'm not happy about this.
A couple more, nearly blocked by the ridge to the east.
I decide, given that I don't want to accidentally hit my already bruised legs again, and because I'm not feeling that great, and to help scare off the sheep, to only carry posts this evening. The logic behind the sheep is that if I focus on post pounding, sure, there will be plenty of noise, but I'll be stuck in one general region, further west, while if I carry posts, I'll be constantly walking around, and progressing further east (inland), and hopefully making the sheep nervous enough to leave the canyon to the east.
I start lining up the posts, approximating where I think they should go.
I no shortage of trees during my walking (even though this isn't a heavily planted area), including this sitka spruce from Kjarr (first batch) which is now nearly as tall as my knee
The "keep walking back and forth while progressing east" plan seems to be working - the sheep are moving off!
Also not feeling that great otherwise. But I mean, look at this weather. I have to go
Unfortunately, there's a fairly strong, cold breeze when I arrive :Þ
I put on my jacket, knit cap, and earplugs (not for the post pounder, but simply for the wind
) and head out toward the post pile.There's lanolin-coated arboricide-perpetrators grazing on the opposite side of the canyon. I'm not happy about this.
A couple more, nearly blocked by the ridge to the east.
I decide, given that I don't want to accidentally hit my already bruised legs again, and because I'm not feeling that great, and to help scare off the sheep, to only carry posts this evening. The logic behind the sheep is that if I focus on post pounding, sure, there will be plenty of noise, but I'll be stuck in one general region, further west, while if I carry posts, I'll be constantly walking around, and progressing further east (inland), and hopefully making the sheep nervous enough to leave the canyon to the east.
I start lining up the posts, approximating where I think they should go.
I no shortage of trees during my walking (even though this isn't a heavily planted area), including this sitka spruce from Kjarr (first batch) which is now nearly as tall as my knee
The "keep walking back and forth while progressing east" plan seems to be working - the sheep are moving off!
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I exhaust the pile of posts at the construction site. I have concerns that I'm going to end up some number of posts short, but it's too hard to tell for sure now. I head to the next pile. It's unfortunately a longer walk from here to the slope where they'll be needed, but at least it's easy flat grassland.
I keep taking trips there and back as more land falls into shadow. The sheep are no long-gone. I plot out a potential future path for the fence and note an interesting opportunity. I could just dip down and immediately back up and have the fence outside the canyon as planned. But I could instead use the cliff edge to change the direction of the fence and head down into the canyon, without imposing any lateral force on the fence posts (e.g. the cliff itself would bear the lateral force rather than the post... indeed, acting like a fencepost itself). Hmm... I may want to do some scouting down there.
The sun is going down, but - since it's not cloudy - I actually get about half an hour more working light than I did the other day.
Heading back up for the last posts from the pile.
I finish up not far from the cliffs, where the land juts out to the south.
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Daylight doesn't stop vanishing... fast. Every single day I lose 6 1/2 minutes of daylight - half of that in the evening. Over the course of 2 1/2 weeks I lose an entire hour of evening light. The evening vanishes quickly here this time of year. But thankfully... it's a weekend now, and good weather is forecast Also, I'm going back to an uneven shift schedule, which means 10-hour days, with more frequent days off; that will work out well.
I keep taking trips there and back as more land falls into shadow. The sheep are no long-gone. I plot out a potential future path for the fence and note an interesting opportunity. I could just dip down and immediately back up and have the fence outside the canyon as planned. But I could instead use the cliff edge to change the direction of the fence and head down into the canyon, without imposing any lateral force on the fence posts (e.g. the cliff itself would bear the lateral force rather than the post... indeed, acting like a fencepost itself). Hmm... I may want to do some scouting down there.
The sun is going down, but - since it's not cloudy - I actually get about half an hour more working light than I did the other day.
Heading back up for the last posts from the pile.
I finish up not far from the cliffs, where the land juts out to the south.
---------
Daylight doesn't stop vanishing... fast. Every single day I lose 6 1/2 minutes of daylight - half of that in the evening. Over the course of 2 1/2 weeks I lose an entire hour of evening light. The evening vanishes quickly here this time of year. But thankfully... it's a weekend now, and good weather is forecast
Also, I'm going back to an uneven shift schedule, which means 10-hour days, with more frequent days off; that will work out well.
Off Shore
Off Topic Member
Projects of this kind often require a certain amount of blood sacrifice and blunt force trauma. But a tiny symbolic amount is ALWAYS sufficient, and should prompt a more deliberate response.
<--/parent mode/-->
Yeah, friends and I used to joke when one of us would cut ourselves building a computer or something that the project "demanded a blood sacrifice" to be successful
Tell us what you really think!
I get a late start (hey, weekends are for sleeping in and slowly getting moving ). But the weather outside is beautiful, so... no excuse!
I head out, and rather than turning around after my sheep inspection, I decide... hey, let's just keep driving. I haven't gone further into the valley at all this year, so.. taking pictures is an excuse, right?
Past my canyon, the river flows on the surface, weaving under the road, with numerous tributaries joining in.
Passing the farm Miðdalur (same name as the valley)
I think this circque would probably be classified as the "headwaters" (areas further down the valley flow in the opposite direction). However, the river drains the whole valley on this side.
Heading back. On the left is Kerlingargil (Old Woman Ravine), a spectacular ravine with vertical cliffs. Every time I drive through here I ask myself why I've never made the time to hike it.
I try to get a better picture of it, but the sun drowns it out.
I head back.
It's curious how much less the flow of the river seems to be on this side of my land than the other; a significant volume of water must join it from both sides during its flow through my land.
It's also curious how quickly it transitions from a surface river to a canyon river. No waterfalls - the river just keeps going down while the land goes up. The area that the river descends into is bedrock, while what goes up from the bedrock is glacial till. My best guess is that the last glaciation didn't go all the way to the fjörd (like earlier glaciations), and thus the increase in elevation above bedrock here may be the remnants of a moraine.
). But the weather outside is beautiful, so... no excuse!I head out, and rather than turning around after my sheep inspection, I decide... hey, let's just keep driving. I haven't gone further into the valley at all this year, so.. taking pictures is an excuse, right?
Past my canyon, the river flows on the surface, weaving under the road, with numerous tributaries joining in.
Passing the farm Miðdalur (same name as the valley)
I think this circque would probably be classified as the "headwaters" (areas further down the valley flow in the opposite direction). However, the river drains the whole valley on this side.
Heading back. On the left is Kerlingargil (Old Woman Ravine), a spectacular ravine with vertical cliffs. Every time I drive through here I ask myself why I've never made the time to hike it.
I try to get a better picture of it, but the sun drowns it out.
I head back.
It's curious how much less the flow of the river seems to be on this side of my land than the other; a significant volume of water must join it from both sides during its flow through my land.
It's also curious how quickly it transitions from a surface river to a canyon river. No waterfalls - the river just keeps going down while the land goes up. The area that the river descends into is bedrock, while what goes up from the bedrock is glacial till. My best guess is that the last glaciation didn't go all the way to the fjörd (like earlier glaciations), and thus the increase in elevation above bedrock here may be the remnants of a moraine.
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But anyway... back to work!
Work being something that's annoyingly difficult here :Þ This whole area of grass, meadowsweet, etc isn't just marshy, it's outright water underneath the vegetation. Including where I'm standing. Yes, my socks get wet, but thankfully not as much as I feared.
I get out of the landslide debris and into the marshy area to the east. I start placing posts.
There turns out to be a post shortage, so I go to fetch some from the (annoyingly far) second-to-last post depot.... which I then realize isn't actually the second to last, but rather the last one. :Þ I'm definitely going to need more posts.
I drop off the posts and do a massive spree of post placing.
I get back to the post pounder to start going down the line, driving them in.
The edge of the marshy ground isn't as wet, but on the downside, it also has sizeable rocks underneath. I had to relocate this one, it just wouldn't go in far enough to be secure.
Emerging onto drier, leveler ground below the construction site.
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Somehow, and I'm not sure how, I manage to rip my skin open. I think it was just too much repeated wear with the post pounder... but who knows.
It hurts, and I really want to disinfect it, but I also want to finish the posts I've already placed, so I push forward
Shadows are getting long, and I can add tiredness to my list. But just two more placed posts (the one further down is just to mark the direction to go)
Probably about half an hour of workable light left, but I need to head home. Still, that's a ton of posts in the ground! Past the landslide, past the adjacent marshy ground, past the construction site, and a third of the way to the cliffs
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Looks like more good weather tomorrow. If I think I can make it back into the canyon (need to probe the ground... I have concerns about how rocky the descent down into it is, just lightly covered by vegetation), the route will be past the cliffs, down in, around the corner, past the "fossilized" pahoehoe boulders, and up to the eastern fence.
It hurts, and I really want to disinfect it, but I also want to finish the posts I've already placed, so I push forward
Shadows are getting long, and I can add tiredness to my list. But just two more placed posts (the one further down is just to mark the direction to go)
Probably about half an hour of workable light left, but I need to head home. Still, that's a ton of posts in the ground! Past the landslide, past the adjacent marshy ground, past the construction site, and a third of the way to the cliffs
------------------
Looks like more good weather tomorrow. If I think I can make it back into the canyon (need to probe the ground... I have concerns about how rocky the descent down into it is, just lightly covered by vegetation), the route will be past the cliffs, down in, around the corner, past the "fossilized" pahoehoe boulders, and up to the eastern fence.
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I don't get out until 4. I got bed late last night thanks to the Starship presentation, then woke up early crying because of a bad dream (my mother has chronic lymphoma, but is on medication to control it; in the dream, it was killing her and she had decided on euthanasia ). I managed to sleep again, and by the time I woke up it was well after noon.
Great weather again. Almost perfectly calm (to the point that the grass barely moved), which is weird here even in the summer, let alone in the fall.
I haul some posts past the marker post right before the cliff.
I position a whole bunch of post for pounding, all the way up to the cliff.
Time to pound!
The very first post I work on just won't go in. I try two separate places.
After taking out some small loose rocks, I look in. I expect to find a big rock underneath, but, nothing.
I pull the post out and it's a mess. This is *after* straightening out the end.
My best theory is that it might have been a weak post end, combined with a large piece of gravel, that ruined the end - and then in this gravelly ground, a ruined end just can't penetrate. Normally I'd put aside the post and use it in some marshy ground, but there's no marshy ground for a long time. So I go fetch the saw.
After a while hacking away at it, I get it sharp again. It doesn't look at smooth as the posts normally do, however; I suspect that the tips are "hardened" in some way to help penetrate better. I hope it goes in....
Thankfully it does, and I continue on down the line, post after post. As I start to near the cliff, I notice that now my left hand is just starting to tear open at the same spot. So clearly it's the post pounder that's doing this :Þ I try to avoid contacting that spot with the pounder for the rest of the day.
I try to drive a wooden post in at the cliff, but it doesn't go (I was afraid of that... rocks and bedrock are visible so close to the surface. I take the post out, use the saw to resharpen it, put a metal post in, and hammer it down. Even that takes a lot of work and beds up the top end.
Back to pounding in the posts leading up to it!
). I managed to sleep again, and by the time I woke up it was well after noon.Great weather again. Almost perfectly calm (to the point that the grass barely moved), which is weird here even in the summer, let alone in the fall.
I haul some posts past the marker post right before the cliff.
I position a whole bunch of post for pounding, all the way up to the cliff.
Time to pound!
The very first post I work on just won't go in. I try two separate places.
After taking out some small loose rocks, I look in. I expect to find a big rock underneath, but, nothing.
I pull the post out and it's a mess. This is *after* straightening out the end.
My best theory is that it might have been a weak post end, combined with a large piece of gravel, that ruined the end - and then in this gravelly ground, a ruined end just can't penetrate. Normally I'd put aside the post and use it in some marshy ground, but there's no marshy ground for a long time. So I go fetch the saw.
After a while hacking away at it, I get it sharp again. It doesn't look at smooth as the posts normally do, however; I suspect that the tips are "hardened" in some way to help penetrate better. I hope it goes in....
Thankfully it does, and I continue on down the line, post after post. As I start to near the cliff, I notice that now my left hand is just starting to tear open at the same spot. So clearly it's the post pounder that's doing this :Þ I try to avoid contacting that spot with the pounder for the rest of the day.
I try to drive a wooden post in at the cliff, but it doesn't go (I was afraid of that... rocks and bedrock are visible so close to the surface. I take the post out, use the saw to resharpen it, put a metal post in, and hammer it down. Even that takes a lot of work and beds up the top end.
Back to pounding in the posts leading up to it!
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