Jari Mower RIP

June 16, 2013

jari on fire

I am sad to report that the Jari mower bit the dust this weekend.  I purchased it about two years ago from a guy upcountry, and put several hours into getting it running well.  I sorted out most of the issues, including the frozen-up cutter bar and rotted gas tank, but the replacement tank never quite fit right – there was a slight intermittent gas leak between the top of the tank and the carb, and I never could figure out why.  However, on Saturday it finally caught up with me.  The mower ran out of gas so I shut it off, filled the tank, and as soon as I cranked it up a small flame started on the surface of the carburetor. I tried to bat it out with a mat of fresh-cut green grass, and it almost worked, but the flames persisted.  I ran over to the neighbor’s and grabbed two fire extinguishers, and exhausted them on it, but by that time the metal was hot enough that it re-ignited after the powder stopped flowing.

I didn’t think it would explode, since the gas seemed to be escaping from the tank – at first through the leak, and subsequently through the zinc carburetor, which melted into a puddle on the ground.  Still, I ran down the hill for some hoses, to tap the neighbor’s water.  At peak the flames reached 6-8 feet high, but by the time we had the hoses up there the gas had burned itself out, and the fire was reduced to burning the rubber tire, belts, and the thermoformed plastic fairing on the front.  Ben Wilkins tossed a couple of pails of water on the smoldering heap and the excitement was over.

Once it cooled off, Bodhi and Kieran rolled the machine down the hill and I took stock of the damage.  The engine was pretty well baked (as I mentioned the carb had completely melted), the left tire and shroud were shot, and the belts were burned down to the fiber cores.  But the frame was intact, and even most of the paint was still in good shape – I tipped the machine over on its side when it caught fire so the tank was up, and there wasn’t much to burn up forward.  One of the idler pulleys looks pretty baked, so it would probably need to be replaced.  Joshua and I toyed with the idea of doing an electric retrofit, since sickle mowers don’t use a lot of power compared to rotary machines, and using two separate motors would significantly simplify the mechanicals.  Unfortunately, I haven’t got time to do a major rebuild (or an electric conversion), so today I bought another used sickle mower (Troy-Bilt make) from a nice retired couple in Cornish – I’ll tune it up next weekend and see how I like it.

Running the mighty Stroudwater

June 8, 2013

A couple of weekends ago, Emily, Andy, and Elsie came to visit, and Andy (who has done a lot more paddling than I) got the notion to run Stroudwater falls.

In dry times the river running through our front yard is little more than an overgrown brook, but when multiple inches of rain fall over a day  or more, it swells impressively.  Instead of sneaking around and through the abrupt ~1m rocky upper fall at low points in the bedrock, it rushes directly over the drop in a handful of weakly organized chutes into the millpond below.  We scoped it out and judged it (and the rapid below the ruined dam) doable.

running the stroudwater 1

Borrowing Joshua and Kelsey’s 16′ fiberglass canoe (not the beautiful cedar one his brother made for him), we carried upriver and put in.  The main channel in low water is a tight 180 degree bend at the far right, but we didn’t think we could maneuver that, so we went through the next largest chute, immediately to the left.  I half-expected we would end up swamping the canoe out of the knee-deep shallows below the fall, but although we shipped a few pails of water over the bow (which is not nearly as high as in some whitewater canoes), we passed without incident, and proceeded to run the rapid below the ruins of the dam and under the bridge, where Kelsey snapped some photos (see below).  Though these rapids were less imposing, we actually shipped more water over the bow, giving the boat a slow, plowing character in the flatwater below.  We pulled out on the  north side of the river shortly below the old bridge site and carried the canoe back over the bridge and home.

running the stroudwater 2

It made me wish the next half-mile or so of flatter water below the falls wasn’t so choked up with blowdown, so we could paddle to work – Pika Energy’s new home in Westbrook is similarly only a few hundred feet from the south bank of the Stroudwater, perhaps 3-4 river miles downstream.

running the stroudwter 3

And the rhubarb pie…

May 28, 2013

Andy and Emily came up to visit on Sunday, and brought rhubarb and strawberries, occasioning some baking – I rarely make 9″ pies any more now that I have the 12″ plate…

rhubarb pie may 2013

Jari Mower rehab, rhubarb pie

May 28, 2013

The grass is growing rapidly and Saturday was a washout, so I took advantage to make some repairs to the Jari mower that  I bought for $125 two springs ago.  It has worked well for us, but the carburetor has been loose on its bolts for a while, and they were frozen into the cylinder so I couldn’t tighten them.  The two bolts holding the carb to the cylinder were hex head bolts so tightly housed in the casting that it wasn’t possible to get a wrench on them, so they were also cross-slotted for a large screwdriver.  The whole thing was clusterific, so I ordered a box of 1/4-20×3/4″ socket head cap screws from McMaster, and shortened the short end of an allen wrench so it would fit into the available space.  I cleaned up the mating surfaces as best I could, and reassembled with lock washers and some loctite (not sure how the loctite will do on a hot engine block), and with fresh gas and a shot of ether it fired up and ran happily.

sprag-clutch

I also cleaned the chaff out of the flywheel fan assembly; Jari adds a perforated steel intake screen over the flywheel, but there’s a hole in it where the recoil start enters, and it still sucks in an incredible amount of grass.  The centrifugal ball clutch is protected by a second, finer screen and a rubber bushing, but amazingly even that manages to fill with fine organic matter, to the point where the balls lodge in the clutch housing and won’t catch.  It’s gotten to be a sort of set routine to unbolt the flywheel cover (7/16 ratchet), remove the cover (1/4″ nutdriver), pry off the retainer cover (Swiss army knife), clean out the dust, and reassemble.

When I got the mower there was as much water as oil in the crankcase and it hadn’t run for years; at this point I’ve spent several hours fixing up this mower and I’ve developed something of an affinity for it. There’s something endearing about a small engine that seems to want to run.  The annoyance of keeping at least a half-dozen small engines running around a typical homestead (tiller, sicklebar mower, rotary mower, log splitter, generator, water pump) makes me think from time to time about a nice powerful BCS walk-behind tractor, but at $1500, the cost of just the log splitter attachment for the BCS is greater than the cost of many stand-alone log splitters  - of course you don’t get the cachet of the fine Italian engineering.

What would be really great is if Marcin Jakubowski and company over at Open Source Ecology would design a good open-source walking tractor, rather than trying to re-invent the skid-steer loader.

Pics of 2013 planting

May 3, 2013

 

 

 

 

 

Here are some photos that Emily took a few days after we planted.

ring of goodness around tree

 

 

 

redfield leafing out old tree, newground, fence

 

new pear tree new fence new peach tree

Orchard Weekend 2013

April 29, 2013

On Saturday several friends joined Alexis, my family, and me for an action-packed day of orcharding.  We put up a permanent woven wire fence at the south end of the orchard enclosing enough newground for about 8-10 trees, and planted new trees in that area and also between the existing apple trees.

We had done the preparation for the new fencing on the last orchard weekend two years ago, but had not had time to put up the fence.  So on Saturday we installed and tensioned the 6.5′ woven wire, stapled it to the posts, and braced it to convenient locations on nearby bedrock outcrops or stone wall boulders.  The woven wire (between 4×4 posts at about 22 foot intervals) makes a much more handsome and stout-feeling fence than the combination plastic netting and tensioned electric fence system we have been using, and counting the maintenance of the plastic netting and wires, I suspect it will actually end up being significantly less work in the long term.  Meanwhile, other folks raked the mulch away from the trees and spread manure and lime, as well as seaweed that was collected from the intertidal zone by an ambitious group of kids under the leadership of Jake and Joanna.  Emily and Joanna also patrolled for borers, finding a few small infestations in most trees and a couple of cases where the tree would clearly have been doomed without their efforts.  I didn’t paint the trees with latex and rotenone last year, and that might have been part of the problem – in any case, greater vigilance is needed.

We then planted new peach trees from Fedco, primarily in places where previous peach trees had died (some from apparent blight of some type, others from porcupine damage.  I’ve gotten reasonably good at bud grafting peaches, but I haven’t started a new batch, and I didn’t want to wait at least 2 more years, so I ordered several varieties from Fedco.  I also ordered another cherry tree just for fun, and we planted it on the southeast corner near the only other cherry tree.  We also transplanted a couple of apples to replace failed trees, and planted a new block of pear threes in the newground.  That area had been outside the fence, and was cleared and stumped a couple years previously, and left neglected to grow weeds and a rough sod.  Pear trees grow slowly, so I made the decision to plant them in the freshly broken newground rather than wait a year or two to cover crop it and smooth it out – we’ll see how that decision turns out.  Most of the large rocks and roots came out previously with the chisel plow and mini-ex, but I think it could use a final treatment with the moldboard plow and disk harrow before seeding down with oats and clover.  I’m going to try that mix because I’m sure the new area could use nitrogen, and the orchard grass I planted in the rest of the orchard is pretty aggressive, so it takes a fair amount of work to keep it tame around the trees.  I also turned over the sod between a couple of the newer rows at the west end of the orchard, to be planted in clover and pumpkins for the summer.  I’m going to try a mix of white and red clover in hopes of getting a long-term clover-dominated sod that can help feed the bees.

Thanks to everyone who helped out, thanks to MomJones for being with us in spirit and contributing to the tree fund, and thanks as always to my family, who enthusiastically go along with my orchard obsession.

 

Spring is on!

April 22, 2013

Yesterday Dave and I worked the newground on the south edge of the orchard – one goal for orchard weekend this year is to enclose the southerly boundary with permanent woven wire fencing, and while it had been cleared and stumped by Evan Holbrook a couple years ago, it was still pretty rough.   First I hauled off over a cord of firewood from the selective thinning we did in the woods to the south of the stone wall.  Then we used string to establish the fenceline grades, and the excavator to get as close as we could to those lines – the woven wire does not bump up and down over the terrain as well as electric or plastic netting does.  That being done, I hitched up the disk harrow and spring-tooth plow and worked over the new area, turning up a number of very large rocks which Dave shoved to the margins.  There are still a lot of roots in there and surely plenty more rocks, but the soil looked good, and with a bit of luck on the weather, we should be ready to string the fence and plant new trees in there next weekend.

On Manipulation: a skeptical stance is appropriate in a world formed by evolution

April 13, 2013

If I am climbing a remote snow-filled couloir deep in the mountains, and a rock breaks loose from the cliff above me, it is reasonable for me to believe that the flying piece of stone is indifferent to my presence as it bounces down the slope – it might brain me by pure chance, but it gains nothing by doing so.  I can look at the distribution of similar rocks arrayed on the gentler slope below and verify this randomness.  But the case is potentially very different for the teeming horde of microorganisms, invertebrates, and buzzards that would take great pleasure in eating my remains.  And if I drink straight from the stream below and ingest Giardia lamblia organisms, it is probably not a coincidence that the resulting frequent bathroom breaks will increase the probability that I make a deposit near open water.

giardia

There is a fungus in South America that reproduces by infecting an ant and commandeering it’s nervous system, causing it to perform odd behaviors that are not in the normal ant repertoire, but happen to be especially conducive to the propagation of fungal spores.  This sort of relationship has been discovered all over the place – I remember reading about another critter (maybe a fluke) that causes a different species of ant to depart from its customary routine and hang out on the tips of blades of grass, where the ant is likely to be eaten by the sheep whose gut is needed to complete the life cycle of the fluke. These phenomena illustrate the incredible power of evolution – that the chance appearance by mutation of an incidental cause in one species with a marginal effect on another species can be amplified and honed over thousands of generations into the appearance of an ingenious stunt. 

In the time since Darwin laid the keel of biology, we have come to understand that the living world is full of replicators that have survived from ancient times to the present by possessing heritable traits that made them slightly better than anyone else around at levering themselves into the next generation.   There are a lot of strategies for doing the levering, and one particularly effective one is manipulation – why do the hard work of slithering up a blade of grass, when it might be easier to grab the controls of the body of an ant and make it do the work for you?  And this is at least as true of our fellow humans as it is of viruses, fungi, and ants.  One theory of why humans are so darn smart is that we evolved high levels of intelligence not to outsmart other species, but to out-manipulate one another – a sort of evolutionary arms race in the direction of cleverness.

An understanding of the evolutionary benefits of manipulation should lead us to a healthy skepticism, especially about the motives of unfamiliar agents.  I was thinking about this after a recent discussion of belief, skepticism, and the scientific method, and I realized that the relationship between skepticism and evolution is stronger than I had previously understood.  Skepticism is associated with evolution because the discovery of evolution by natural selection is one of the great achievements of the scientific project, and evolution is a major flashpoint in the ongoing turf battle between reason and received tradition.  But more fundamentally, a worldview informed by skepticism is a logical conclusion that flows from an understanding of humans as an evolved species.

As much as the nature-documentary view of evolution involves carnivores running down and chomping herbivores, a lot of the evolutionary action has got to be intra-species, and in social animals there’s a tension between manipulation, aggression, and dominance on one side and cooperation for mutual benefit on the other.  If manipulation were the whole story, we never would have managed to work together enough to build this amazing computer I’m typing on. Theory shows how  pro-social behavior can emerge under suitable conditions, and how it can out-compete ruthlessness.  Altruism towards family members is easy to understand, but under the right conditions it can extend further – particularly where living arrangements allow for repeated interaction, and the critters in question (e.g. us) have sufficient intelligence and memory to sort out and recognize the reliable characters from the shifty ones. But these conditions are fragile and limited in scope, and powerful motivations for betrayal are never far beneath the surface.   Accordingly, manipulation, loyalty, and betrayal are constant preoccupations among people everywhere, and a perennial staple of fiction.

The principles of evolution offer some guidance about when to suspect manipulation most – especially single-shot interactions (for instance buying a used car far from home) and anonymous settings (e.g. emails from ‘friends’ in Nigeria).  But far beyond outright fraud, on average a random person who is trying to make you believe something is far more likely to be doing it for their benefit than for yours. The most obvious example is advertising: the product might be good and it might be shoddy, but the person producing the ad copy probably may not even know – their bonus (and their continued employment) hangs on their ability to get you to open your wallet.

Understanding the incentives that are motivating the people (and other organisms) we interact with is a powerful tool.  If your doctor receives 30% of his income in the form of clandestine ‘gifts’ from drug manufacturers, it is reasonable to expect that this will have an impact on his prescribing behavior – whether he admits it to himself or not, you are unlikely to be the beneficiary of that influence.  But a flight to ‘alternative’ or ‘holistic’ practice is no refuge – indeed the skeptical worldview is frequently under attack by people who would love to convince potential customers that the scientific establishment are fascist storm troopers, so they can sell more herbs or crystals or whatever type of dubious product they have on offer.

Others are skeptical of skepticism for reasons of iconoclasm – ‘it comports with my self-image as an edgy person to claim that all ways of knowing are equally valid’ – or simply aesthetics and wish-fulfillment: ‘true or not, I am happier believing that powerful forces want me to be beautiful and successful.’ (There may even be a strange evolutionary logic to illogic – if I truly believe that warpaint protects me from arrows, I will surely act with more courage, and in a world of less deadly weapons, the added benefit of banishing fear could conceivably more than compensate for the cost of miscalculations about the effects of pigment on projectiles.) Still others condemn the skeptical stance as heartless and austere; that – even if  true – it is too thin and hard a pillow for the average mortal to rest their head on at night, and that ordinary people would be better off believing in comforting fictions.  But this is condescending. People can handle unvarnished reality, and they make better decisions when they understand it.

Evolutionary insight brings the realization that the world is jam-packed with finely-tuned organisms that in no way have your best interests in mind – ranging all the way from viruses to used car salesmen.  This understanding is very different (and potentially a lot less attractive) than conceptions of a stern but loving God – or a fluffy New Age optimism that the universe cares about you and everything happens for a reason – but it has the virtue of being true.The skeptical view is consistent with our best understanding of how the universe works, and it is of a piece with hard-won, durable, practical knowledge of how matter, energy, and living organisms interact. This same body of knowledge amplified our power (and our environmental impact, alas) a hundredfold by harnessing thermodynamics, cured deadly diseases through detailed knowledge and intricate manipulations of  invisible biological machinery, built us microscopes and telescopes that allow us to visualize the stuff of the universe across 20 orders of magnitude, and landed a few lucky dudes temporarily on the moon. And it says that the universe doesn’t care about you, no matter how much you wish it did, and furthermore that many of its living pieces would much rather use you for their own purposes than do you a favor.

2013 spring pruning

March 17, 2013

With apologies for radio silence, a brief report.  It was a cold, windy day, but it was the day I had, so Jake and I pruned all the apples in the orchard, and also the older trees in Pops’ garden.  We were a bit more aggressive with the older trees than I have been in the past, since they looked brushy despite several years of diligent pruning, and haven’t been fruiting well.  I also collected up some scionwood, in case by some miracle I get some time to do some topworking on the north side at Stroudwater.

Bridgeport milling machine

December 23, 2012

To a mechanical engineer, a Bridgeport is the iconic machine tool, the basic necessity for doing precision work, and I’ve felt increasingly hamstrung by the inability to whip out simple components or modify parts we buy.  I looked at a smaller Jet machine, but it was missing a couple of degrees of freedom that I’ve actually found quite useful recently, it didn’t have quill feed or back gear, and I scraped my knuckles trying to adjust the five speed belt drive – I could have swapped the single phase motor for a three-phase and run a VFD, but that seemed like too much work for a compromised machine.  So I found a mid-eighties Bridgeport with variable speed on Craigslist, and checked it out last weekend.  It looked pretty good, so today Joshua and I went to southern NH to pick it up.

The owner was an older German gentleman who had made his living building big pieces of equipment, and he had a large forklift which made the loading part simple.  We had a half-ton pickup with a 1500lb flatbed trailer, and the pickup probably could have handled the whole tool (it has the heavy suspension b/c snowplow) but getting it from the high bed of the trailer to our shop floor would have been a real trick.  So we took the head assembly off the column and put it in the truck bed.  We unbolted the head assembly from the column and lifted it off with the forklift, then bolted it to a couple of 2X8s cross-wise, which we then screwed to a pallet and skidded it into the truck.  We then hooked up the trailer and arranged more 2x8s crosswise underneath the column, picked up the column, and slid it into the trailer, adjusting the position to get suitable tongue weight.  We used wide nylon ratchet straps left over from Joshua’s boat to lash it fore and aft, and got on the road.  I have had bad experiences hauling heavy loads in these little Snowbear trailers, so we took back roads for the first 20 miles or so, then stopped to check the tires (slightly warm) and wheel bearings (stone cold) before getting on the  freeway.  Fortunately we made it home without incident.  Here is how the load looked when we arrived:

the load

 

Then came the fun part.  Lacking a forklift, we had to resort to Egyptian methods.  We carefully backed the trailer until its rear end was over the threshold of the door, then chocked the wheels and jacked the tongue with a Hi-Lift jack until the tail grounded out on a 4×4 on the sill.  We then screwed some 4′ 2x scraps to the 4×4 to create a ramp, and rolled the mill onto the shop floor on 1.5″ pipe rollers, controlling the speed by snubbing against the hitch ball of the pickup:

jacking the trailer

 

rolling off the column

 

Once on the floor, we could roll the column around easily, though changing direction was more difficult.  The trickier part was getting the head assembly off the truck and onto the column.  We started by fabricating a u-bolt out of 1/2″ all-thread to hoist from, and installing it on the underside of one of the I-beams that make the (relatively unconventional but extremely stout) first floor framing of the south house.  We hooked a pulley to the u-bolt, and ran the bitter end of a rope-a-long through the pulley and to the eye on the top of the ram.  The main complication was that the truck was too wide to fit through the double doors.  So we fabricated a rudimentary platform to skid the head assembly off the tailgate and under the hoisting ring. We could have done a better job of this and the transition was a bit sketchy, but we had the assembly supported with the rope-a-long.  We also put a sling around the head itself and used a second pulley to keep it more or less level as we winched it up:

hoisting head assembly

 

From there it was relatively simple to lower the head assembly onto the column and bolt it together – there’s a funky spider casting that holds the head down, but with a bit of fiddling we got it lined up.  We skidded the assembled mill (significantly more top-heavy now) into its assigned corner, and set it down on some rubber pads:

in place

 

Next steps include leveling the machine, wiring it to the VFD I bought, tramming the head, and throwing up a fast-and-nasty partition to keep the wood dust from the rest of the shop out of the works.


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