Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

Arizona....land of the Free...

Collapse

Unconfigured Ad Widget

Collapse
X
 
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • Arizona....land of the Free...

    A few days later, Lori and her daughter Amy were doing laundry when the washing machine stopped filling with water. Then, a few hours later, the dishwasher conked out, too. Craig, who had serviced his own diesel truck for some 20 years, inspected both machines but couldn’t find anything wrong with either. It was the pipes feeding them that seemed to be the issue; they merely trickled, then sputtered out sand. Having lived in the rural mountains of Pennsylvania, Craig and Lori were both familiar with wells; they picked the house on East Hopi for its sweeping views eastward to the Chiricahua Mountains but also for the solitude that came with owning a remote piece of property, which was only possible so long as they had their own source of water. But as worrisome as the incidents seemed, they didn’t yet form any recognizable pattern. One evening sometime later, Lori drew a bath and left the room. When she returned a while later, she found the tub stood only half full, the water murky with silt. She watched, over the next few moments, as a thin layer of sand settled along the bottom.

    A local driller arrived for an inspection a short while later. Visible from most rooms in the house, the well consisted of a five-horsepower pump, an eight-inch-wide borehole and a screen that filtered dirt and rock from the aquifer’s water. Although the well was somewhat old, it appeared to be in good working order, the driller explained, capable of pumping 25 gallons a minute, enough to supply a home many times larger than the Paups’. The stoppages and intrusions of sand, he went on, in all likelihood signaled that the water level had begun dipping below the mouth of the pipe, causing the pump to act as a vacuum for sand. The problem wasn’t the well, in other words; it was the aquifer, which had retreated below where the well could reach it.

    “You’re running out of water,” Lori recalls the driller telling them. There was no way of knowing how long the remaining water might last.

    https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/19/m...f-arizona.html

  • #2
    Originally posted by Conor Dary View Post
    A few days later, Lori and her daughter Amy were doing laundry when the washing machine stopped filling with water. Then, a few hours later, the dishwasher conked out, too. Craig, who had serviced his own diesel truck for some 20 years, inspected both machines but couldn’t find anything wrong with either. It was the pipes feeding them that seemed to be the issue; they merely trickled, then sputtered out sand. Having lived in the rural mountains of Pennsylvania, Craig and Lori were both familiar with wells; they picked the house on East Hopi for its sweeping views eastward to the Chiricahua Mountains but also for the solitude that came with owning a remote piece of property, which was only possible so long as they had their own source of water. But as worrisome as the incidents seemed, they didn’t yet form any recognizable pattern. One evening sometime later, Lori drew a bath and left the room. When she returned a while later, she found the tub stood only half full, the water murky with silt. She watched, over the next few moments, as a thin layer of sand settled along the bottom.

    A local driller arrived for an inspection a short while later. Visible from most rooms in the house, the well consisted of a five-horsepower pump, an eight-inch-wide borehole and a screen that filtered dirt and rock from the aquifer’s water. Although the well was somewhat old, it appeared to be in good working order, the driller explained, capable of pumping 25 gallons a minute, enough to supply a home many times larger than the Paups’. The stoppages and intrusions of sand, he went on, in all likelihood signaled that the water level had begun dipping below the mouth of the pipe, causing the pump to act as a vacuum for sand. The problem wasn’t the well, in other words; it was the aquifer, which had retreated below where the well could reach it.

    “You’re running out of water,” Lori recalls the driller telling them. There was no way of knowing how long the remaining water might last.

    https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/19/m...f-arizona.html
    I kept waiting for a punch line . . .

    Comment


    • #3
      "As the Paups entered their fourth year without running water, they were left with a single inescapable problem: their home. Expenses related to hauling water to their house cost them nearly $200 a month, effectively increasing their mortgage payment by 50 percent. Little outlays — laundromat, bottled water, air-conditioners — had begun to add up, and Craig had been forced to take monthlong trucking routes on the East Coast. Unable to recoup the four years of equity they had put into the home and unable to move on without it, they felt trapped. With little possibility of selling the house or seeking redress, Lori and Craig had begun talking about abandoning it. They saw dozens of their neighbors walk off their property over the last few years, including a close friend, Billy Frisbee, whose camper caught fire after his well pump combusted from filling with sand. Many of the empty homes lay just a few blocks away, piles of furniture and clothes still visible inside."

      Comment


      • #4
        Still waiting for a punch line.

        Comment


        • #5
          building a home in the desert, what could possibly go wrong ?

          Comment


          • #6
            "You're running out of water" is the punchline. In this case it's actually a punch.

            Comment


            • #7
              Originally posted by booond View Post
              "You're running out of water" is the punchline. In this case it's actually a punch.
              Running out of water and no regulations or plans to save... .

              Comment

              Working...
              X