But who's counting? Oh. Really that many?
Finally, finally, finally there is a canoe hoist in Breckenridge. Sure, some might say it's "over-engineered." Others might go as far as to say, "Hey, stop talking about the damn thing." In the end, all I can say is, "Uh, it still doesn't work like I want it to..." Proudly, and with reverence to the very object of affection, Tuck's hand-crafted canoe, I hereby present "the canoe hoist."
<< trumpet fanfare from mountain top >>Yes, after a long toil, toil, boil and bubble, my Mom and I installed the hoist this last Sunday with only three ulcers, a headache, loud swearing, dispair, elation, and of course an immediate subsequent trip to Blackhawk (for you non-Coloradoans: it's like Vegas, but with buffalo roaming the streets and olde tyme water-closets).
(Off to a good start on the day of assembly.)Yeah, I totally forgot to get a close-up of the arms that extend the canoe about a yard out from the wall to avoid the breakfast counter, but here's a photo of the hoist motor and cable guides mounted behind the rafters in the loft bedroom:
And finally, let me heap some praises where they are due:
- To Kristin for immense support and love during all the late nights,
- To Ryan Sharp for expert welds and sage engineering advice,
- To Tuck and Liz for their patience, patience, and patience these long years
- And finally to Joan, my Mom, for elbow grease, tolerance of my frustrations, and unending belief in my capabilities (however misplaced they clearly are...)
Now off to fix the damn thing...
