It never fails. A simple and benign Jekyll project that should take only hours menacingly turns into a monster Hyde, cruelly murdering every bit of time you have for the next week. Today I decided to tackle the fireplace. It's a beautiful piece of work, local stone from the creek out back, laid in place by the previous owner some sixty or more years ago. But time has taken its toll. Some of the mortar is crumbling, a few stones are loose, and it desperately needs a general and no doubt costly rebuild. It's been years since anyone built a fire in it, which is a good thing, considering the condition of the flue. Actually, I don't know the condition of the flue; I haven't checked it. But if it's anything like the outside, I'd be literally playing with fire to try to use it.
All of which is why I decided to install gas logs so I wouldn't have to worry about burning down my house, and still get both the warmth and the ambiance of the fireplace. I had measured the insert last year before buying the log set, BUT... You can see where this is headed, can't you?
I unpacked the burner, made a necessary adjustment, and slid it into place for a test fit. I got about a D- on that test. More like an F, if you really want to know. It lacked half an inch, front to back. At the back of the stove is a damper that leans forward just enough to hit the back of the burner unit. A simple, easy fit was not to be. Mr. Hyde it seems, was lurking around in the dark corners of that fireplace. I noticed that the damper looked removable, thus beginning the Hyde part of today's adventure. Dismantling a three hundred pound cast iron stove that has been nearly heat welded together over the years turns out to be a daunting task. Beginning with the removal of the old firebrick, I nearly ruined Linda's new vacuum sucking up the fine wood ash that accumulated over the years. Pieces of brick, mortar, ash, along with a mummified bird, were all part of the job. I managed to remove the decorative front and doors and set them aside before tackling the main unit. It had a sheet metal surround designed to funnel the heat into the room, but it also prevented my access to the internals that needed removing.
With a mighty heave-ho (For some odd reason I've always wanted to say that), I yanked the stove loose from the flue, wondering how in the world they ever made it fit in the first place, and finally have the whole thing sitting on a sturdy old dolly I've carted around from place to place for years, wondering if it would ever actually come in handy. It did. The stove is sitting face down on the dolly in the middle of the living room, tools scattered across the hearth and, Oh yes, with nine grandkids scheduled to sleep over tomorrow night. In addition, the condition of the actual firebox behind the insert is worse by far than I had imagined. It's rusty sheet steel, so fragile that I can poke holes through it with the vacuum cleaner wand. The stuff I've sucked out from behind it is disgusting, and the fireplace floor is crumbling, with a four inch diameter hole into the crawl space in the right rear corner. Ah, but therein lies the blessing! I was wondering how in the world I was going to be able to drill through a concrete pad in order to run the gas line to the stove. It is a tight spot, and I wasn't looking forward to the project. Guess what? It's all done, rotted away naturally! It's a wonder the stove didn't collapse into the basement.
Tomorrow I'll pick up some cement board to rebuild the firebox, mortar it in place, and hopefully be ready to reinstall the insert by Saturday. But given how these projects tend to go, I'll politely tip my hat to Mr. Hyde, hope for sometime by the end of next week, and offer a prayer of thanks for the jackhammer work I dodged today.
No comments:
Post a Comment