A Thing of Beauty and a Joy for a Good Long Time

As I creep into ever deeper senescence I ordinarily find myself drawn more to disposal than acquisition of material belongings but an exception has arisen gloriously this past while at the old cabin at Big Bras d’Or. Jan says I am like a kid at Christmas but that description hardly does justice to the euphoric state in which I behold the edifice I began building nearly a half century ago. Long an admirer of other people’s metal roofs, I decided that I wanted to have one installed on the little cabin that is our home for up to a third of a typical year.

Not necessarily opposed to this notion, Jan was not entirely on board either. Four weeks ago I delivered her to Sydney’s McCurdy airport for the trip back to Victoria and her musical week at UVic. No sooner was her back turned that I visited Benny Niesten of Timberlake Construction, a local specialist in metal roof installation, to inquire what a shiny new steel roof might cost me. Benny came down to ‘Bigador’ with tape measure in hand, made his calculations. When he told me what the bill would be I said ‘When can we start?’

I had to wait a couple of weeks for materiel to be assembled and for an opening in Benny’s schedule and by the time everything was ready to roll, Jan had returned from the west coast and was on hand to witness what unfolded. A couple of young bucks, Johnny and Greg, arrived shortly after 7 on Thursday morning with a trailer loaded with wooden strapping and steel sheets. They got right to work. The old asbestos shingle roof stayed where it was, the strapping installed directly on top of it.

What with the two additions I have made to the original cabin over the years – the sleeping porch and sun room – there were five roof pitches for Johnny and Greg to deal with, two skylights, a steel chimney and its supports. Benny had said it was likely a two-day job, the lads felt it might be closer to four. Benny turned out to know exactly what he was talking about. For someone of my tastes in spectator sport the job proved to be hugely entertaining. I watched, tried to stay out of the way. By Friday afternoon the job was done. I floated well above Cloud Nine. I still do.

The first person to lay eyes on the new roof other than ourselves was Bob Nagel’s nephew Dennis. He put the matter succinctly: ‘they under-promised and over-delivered’. I couldn’t say it better. I now declare, with only a little exaggeration, that I have a ‘million-dollar roof on a ten-cent building’.

Given the roof’s immediate surrounds – mountain-ashes and maples, tamaracks and pines, spruces and firs – I decided on a green roof, green in its myriad hues being the colour of choice in the close vicinity.

Apart from the obvious advantage of being a thing of beauty and a joy for a good long time the new roof offers other rewards: even if I live to 105 I need never fret about having to replace it ever again. It is cleaner than a shingle roof which means that the water we gather in the rain barrels is crystal clear. I admit to one very small disappointment: I had been told by many that we would learn that a heavy rain on a metal roof would deliver considerably more noise. This may have been a deterrent for some folks but not for me: I looked forward to a big jump in the decibel count. Yesterday we had a big rain. Was there a difference in noise level? Not much.

Oh well, the slight disappointment that conversation won’t be overwhelmed by mighty rains at Bigador weighs little against the delight of having the prettiest, tightest roof of any shack in all of Boularderie Island.