KENT'S LEAK

In the late twenty-oughts, I worked as Project Manager for CM Construction, one of the premier historic restoration outfits in Arkansas.

Okay we were THE best, but mostly because I was there. 

Sometimes I'm so humble I can't stand myself. Really, I can't.

One of our best repeat customers was Kent. He had an early 1960s Modern home, and we'd done some fine work on this house, which is built into a sandstone ledge in Little Rock, a town famous for its..rock. Seriously, the Jackfork Sandstone that makes up the Ouachita Mountains, which begin in Little Rock, is some of the hardest and most massive stone deposits in the Midwest. And Kent's house was built into it.

He'd been having seepage problems in his lower floor, and I was called in because I am familiar with leaks of all sorts. Whether it comes from a sink or bathtub, gutter or stucco wall, I can usually sniff it out. Sometimes literally.

I figured this seepage was coming from the Jackfork ledge, and as I am quite the student of geology, I was asked to figure it out. So I donned my muddy clothes (not that they are muddy, they are just what I use to wallow around under houses) and crawled into the space below his upper floor. 

It was, not surprisingly, wet. No, that's not true, it was SOAKED. With a little crawling, I figured out the extent of the saturated area and found its highest point, which was adjacent to the foundation wall closest to...wait for it... where the house was dug into the ledge. Taking out my trusty Genuine U.S. Army gung-ho John Wayne folding shovel, I dug a hole and was not surprised to see it fill with water in the time it takes to say 'inundation.' It made quite a muddy little pool in no time at all.

                                                                    Beautiful, isn't it?

In a few minutes, the little hole was filled. And since I was being paid by the hour, I watched.

That's not true, though I was being paid by the hour. I needed to watch it for two reasons.

One, I had to see how fast it would fill, and if it would overtop the edge of the hole. That would show me how much water was coming in and at what pressure.

Two, I wanted to see if it had such a source that I could actually SEE the water move. And if it was muddy or clear.

If muddy, it wasn't a spring. 

I was amazed to see it fill rather quickly, and could actually see movement in the water.

In fact, the water was swirling and small eddies appeared.

By the time I waited fifteen minutes, I knew we had not just a leak, but a spring. So I did what any good contractor would do. I went to deal with another job.

But I came back the next day and watched it again. But this time, the little pool was clear, as the dirt in the water had settled. Loan behold, there was the little spring just a-swirlin' away.

So I figured it really was a spring after all. Damn. Not good news.

I went behind the house and dug around on the other side of foundation, but I pretty much knew the leak wouldn't be so close to the surface. So I did what any good Project manager would do; I called in my Minions.

I got Randy, my best Minion, to bring a team out, and they dug and dug until they found the source. And surprisingly, I had good news for  Kent.

You see, if it had been a natural spring coming out of the Jackfork Sandstone, we would have had to build a catchment and diversion to take the water away, and that would have cost thousands. Besides, springs have a  way of reappearing when you plug or divert them; it's nature's way of telling you that water will always seek a lower level.

But Kent lucked out. My team found an 'abandoned' storm drain behind the house only about two and a half feet down and a foot above the bedrock. Its concrete was intact, but roots had expanded a joint just behind where the 'spring' was located. We called the City Public Works but they denied its existence, and  therefore, their responsibility. And despite my asking who ELSE might be responsible for this particular drain ("Hey, the builder might have put it in!"), Randy dug out the offending section, replaced it with more technologically advanced PVC, sealed it and refilled the hole. 

And for the first time since 1989, Kent has no more seepage in his lower floor.

I didn't study hydrology in college for nothing.

It cost a lot of money.

Then I went in to Home Repair. 

Hydrologists don't make squat.

But studying pays off.