Here's a serious topic that I hope everyone who owns a house built before 1978 or does any work on a house built before 1978 will read. In April of 2010, North Carolina adopted the new rules created by the EPA concerning renovations and painting of houses containing leap based paint.
If you want to read up on all the rules on this new requirement, just Google something like North Carolina Lead paint. You will find lots of sites discussing this subject, including the EPA and the North Carolina government site regulating this requirement.
Here are the basic requirements: Anyone responsible for renovations or painting on a house built before 1978 and disturbs an area of more than 6 square feet, or replaces a door or window, shall be certified and licensed by the state as a lead renovator. This includes general contractors, repairmen, painters, plumbers, electricians, heating and air companies, and landlords.
About 24% of houses built between 1960 and 1978 contain lead paint. It may be possible to test these houses in the areas being renovated, and determine that they do not contain lead, but this can only be done by the certified renovator. 69% of houses built between 1940 and 1960 contain lead, and 87% of homes built before 1940 contain lead. Essentially, you can assume that any renovation in a house built before 1960 will disturb lead paint and the renovations will need to be carried out in accordance with EPA regulations. The renovator is required to present the home owner with a pamphlet Entitled "Renovate Right" Which outlines the hazards of lead dust, and requires a sign off by the home owner.
The EPA estimates that the additional average repair cost will increase by about $45.00. This is insanely wrong. As a general contractor, I have performed many renovations in older homes that with these new regulations would have added thousands of dollars to the cost of the project.
The requirements require that lead paint be handled with about the same amount of caution as asbestos. The areas being renovated are to be completely isolated from the other parts of the home. An extensive cleanup is to be performed at the end of each day, with a wipe down test to be done only by the licensed individual, and if it fails, the cleanup is to be repeated. All debris is to be bagged and sealed. All dust shall be collected with hepa vacuums. These rules also involve OSHA in that complete worker protection must be provided. (Suits, masks, etc.)
The fines for noncompliance can be staggering. The EPA looks at sins of omission versus sins of co mission. If a renovator performs work and ignores the rules, or if the homeowner chooses to knowingly hire someone that is not licensed, the fines can be up to $32,500.00 per day. If a licensed renovator performs the work in good faith, but fails to meet all the requirements, the fines might be less. In addition, the homeowner might be subject to lawsuit by his neighbors for failing to properly protect them.
The EPA is right now relying on other homeowners and licensed renovators to rat out the violators. Consider what might happen if you get a price from three renovators and you award the job to the least expensive one and he does not carry out the proper requirements. Would you be surprised if one of the other renovators or painters with the proper license turned you in?
I am both a general contractor and an owner of a home built in 1922. I do over half my work in homes built before 1978. I've taken the course, and have been certified, but I have not yet applied for my license. I'm not sure that I will apply. I'm a sole proprietor, at the very least, I will need to incorporate to protect my assets from fines or lawsuits. I only have one employee, and the two of us would be hard put to get any actual work done, and perform the proper set up and clean up required each day. In addition, I, without question, will be competing against unlicensed renovators. Will I turn them in to protect my share of the business? Right now, after six months of the requirements implementation, and over a year of notification, there are less than ten licensed renovators in the county.
On the other side of the coin, what will happen to the value of my house, where most of my assets lie, after these regulations have been in effect for five or ten years, and people have become aware of the increased cost of owning an older home, and potential homeowners have been scared by the supposed dangers of lead in there homes.
I don't even believe that the regulations will protect the children they were designed for. Houses, and especially rental properties, will be allowed to deteriorate because of the increased cost to renovate. The paint will chip, and the kids will eat it.
I can only hope that home owners and renovators will become incensed over these rules, and demand repeal. I hope you all will read this and tell your friends and neighbors about it. Most people that I talk to about these regulations, both homeowners and renovators, seem unconcerned, but believe me, this is a disaster in the making.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Black Rock
It had been twenty years since I last hiked to my favorite place in the smokies. With surprisingly little cajoling, I got my wife up at five o'clock yesterday morning, and we headed to the mountains.
Blackrock is as spot that is infrequently visited, but is often observed by travelers to Sylva, North Carolina. As you drive into Sylva from Waynesville, a ridge towers over the town to your right. This ridge is known as the Plott Balsams, and at nearly the highest point as you walk down the ridge starting at Water Rock Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway, you come to Black Rock. It is a rock formation as big as a small house that sits atop of the mountain. You make way the last 50 yards through a Laural hell, and then step up onto the top of the world.
Below and to your right, you see the town of Sylva, and in the distance, Webster and Cullowhee. Turn 180 degrees, and you see the deep wooded valley that drops down to Cherokee. As you scan the horizon, first looking back from your starting point, you can see many of the most well known peaks in the smokies. To the east, away in the distance you see the steep peak of Mt Pisgah with its tower on top. Scanning from there you see Richland Balsam, the highest point on the Blue Ridge Parkway, Then, farther to the south, Whitesides and Scaly Mountain, and to the west, Standing Indian. To the North You see Clingmans Dome, the chiseled sides of Mt Leconte, then Mt Guyot, and the high pastures of Cattaloochee.
My first trip to Black Rock was a real adventure. There was no trail guide available, in fact, there was no real trail. My friend Mickey and I arrived at Water Rock Knob late on a fall afternoon in the early seventies. I had a topo map and a compass, and a vague idea of which way to go. Following a wooded ridge seems like no brain er from the perspective of a map, but not so simple in reality. We crossed the parkway and stepped into the woods, following a faint trail up the hill. When we came out onto the brushy side of Yellow Face, trouble and twilight began. It was early in the fall, and frost had not killed and beat down brambles. They were head high and obscured any sign of a trail. We camped on a slope so steep that we had to push upright sticks into the ground to keep from sliding down into the fire in our sleeping bags.
We awoke the next morning stiff, but determined to continue our trek. Let me point out that the distance from Water Rock Knob to Black Rock is only about two and one half miles as the crow flies, and we had already spent several hours wandering around on what would be a forty five minute walk up Union Street. After a good deal of fumbling around with the map and compass, we got our bearings and headed on out the ridge line. We only got seriously lost one more time. This time we came to a wide heavily wooded gap were the slope we were facing was covered in blow downs which obscured the trail, and made walking difficult. We bushwhacked our way up the slope, and finally came out on the knife edged ridge that leads the rest of the way to Black Rock.
This ridge is truly spectacular. Huge boulders are stacked and balanced along the ridge top as if placed by some gigantic hand. We made our way up, over, and around these obstacles until we came to the Laural slick that leads up to the main attraction. This slick was so thick, that you could not stand upright, but instead, we crouched and crawled, following a path created by a small man or some four legged animal.
We came out into the bright sunshine atop of the rock. A golden day, the maples, poplars, and oaks below reflected the sunlight. Just below us the scattered blueberry bushes were bright red among the waxy green Laural bushes. A raven soared just above us, and a hawk glided along below. We spent the remainder of the day perched on top of that rock, and, even though there was not a level spot on the entire rock, we rolled out our sleeping bags and spent the night there as well. A beautiful but hard bed, the stars above, and the distant lights of Sylva made up for the discomfort. The next morning we woke on a sunny island in the middle of a sea of fog. Below us the valleys of Scotts Creek, and the Tuskaseegee river were immersed in fog, probably as a result of the smokestacks of the Meade Paper plant at Sylva. Back then, Meade Paper made Sylva a dismal and smelly town, as evidenced from the backstreet scene in the movie Deliverance, but at least on this day, Meade redeemed itself by creating the view that we witnessed.
I made a lot of trips to Black Rock during the seventies and eighties, with friends and wives, and my son. All of the trips are memorable, though not always as beautiful. Three friends and myself hiked in from Fisher Creek one January, in snow that became so deep that we could not make it all the way to the summit. We camped on a logging road below the peak in at least thirty inches of snow and temperatures that dipped close to zero. A wild and windy, fearful night. The next morning we put on our frozen boots and , thankfully, got the hell out of there.
I was camped on the rock late one afternoon when the Hennessee Lumber Mill caught on fire way below us down in the valley. We watched the fire trucks make their futile way up Scotts Creek from Sylva. The smoke rose up thick from the fire below, and we paranoidly wondered if the whole mountain would catch fire.
I learned to camp just below the next rock down the ridge where there was a level spot on the ground. After a grueling search for water on the slopes below, we found a spring that we had passed in a little switch back of the trail less than a hundred yards below the ridge. Next trip, and there after, I carried an eighteen inch lenght of plastic pipe to insert into the spring and create a drip of fresh water we could catch in our canteens.
I took my new wife to Black Rock with promises of bright stars and beautiful vistas, and we hiked in drizzle, and woke up in fog and freezing rain.
This trip was better, we did not camp. My years, and my knees don't let me carry a forty pound pack up and down the mountains. If I had proposed a camping trip, it would have been a solo trek, my wife and friends have become leery of "Eudy Adventures". The hike was tough enough with just a small day pack and a stick. The trail has been somewhat cleared, and marked, but it's a lot more strenuous than I remembered. That short two and one half mile walk took two hours in and two and one half out. The sun was bright and warm. Although the leaves were slightly past their peak, it was a beautiful day. We met several other hikers on the trip in, and there were about ten people on the rock when we got there. There was plenty of room for all of us, and I'm actually glad to see that more people are aware of this unique place.
We set on the rock, ate some cheese and salami, and drank some wine. (Traditional fare for a trip to Black rock.) After an hour or so we started out hike out, and arrived at the car, worn slap out. We took the Park Way back to Asheville, ate dinner at the Pisgah inn on the way, and made it home by about ten last night. A long day, but one of the best.
Blackrock is as spot that is infrequently visited, but is often observed by travelers to Sylva, North Carolina. As you drive into Sylva from Waynesville, a ridge towers over the town to your right. This ridge is known as the Plott Balsams, and at nearly the highest point as you walk down the ridge starting at Water Rock Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway, you come to Black Rock. It is a rock formation as big as a small house that sits atop of the mountain. You make way the last 50 yards through a Laural hell, and then step up onto the top of the world.
Below and to your right, you see the town of Sylva, and in the distance, Webster and Cullowhee. Turn 180 degrees, and you see the deep wooded valley that drops down to Cherokee. As you scan the horizon, first looking back from your starting point, you can see many of the most well known peaks in the smokies. To the east, away in the distance you see the steep peak of Mt Pisgah with its tower on top. Scanning from there you see Richland Balsam, the highest point on the Blue Ridge Parkway, Then, farther to the south, Whitesides and Scaly Mountain, and to the west, Standing Indian. To the North You see Clingmans Dome, the chiseled sides of Mt Leconte, then Mt Guyot, and the high pastures of Cattaloochee.
My first trip to Black Rock was a real adventure. There was no trail guide available, in fact, there was no real trail. My friend Mickey and I arrived at Water Rock Knob late on a fall afternoon in the early seventies. I had a topo map and a compass, and a vague idea of which way to go. Following a wooded ridge seems like no brain er from the perspective of a map, but not so simple in reality. We crossed the parkway and stepped into the woods, following a faint trail up the hill. When we came out onto the brushy side of Yellow Face, trouble and twilight began. It was early in the fall, and frost had not killed and beat down brambles. They were head high and obscured any sign of a trail. We camped on a slope so steep that we had to push upright sticks into the ground to keep from sliding down into the fire in our sleeping bags.
We awoke the next morning stiff, but determined to continue our trek. Let me point out that the distance from Water Rock Knob to Black Rock is only about two and one half miles as the crow flies, and we had already spent several hours wandering around on what would be a forty five minute walk up Union Street. After a good deal of fumbling around with the map and compass, we got our bearings and headed on out the ridge line. We only got seriously lost one more time. This time we came to a wide heavily wooded gap were the slope we were facing was covered in blow downs which obscured the trail, and made walking difficult. We bushwhacked our way up the slope, and finally came out on the knife edged ridge that leads the rest of the way to Black Rock.
This ridge is truly spectacular. Huge boulders are stacked and balanced along the ridge top as if placed by some gigantic hand. We made our way up, over, and around these obstacles until we came to the Laural slick that leads up to the main attraction. This slick was so thick, that you could not stand upright, but instead, we crouched and crawled, following a path created by a small man or some four legged animal.
We came out into the bright sunshine atop of the rock. A golden day, the maples, poplars, and oaks below reflected the sunlight. Just below us the scattered blueberry bushes were bright red among the waxy green Laural bushes. A raven soared just above us, and a hawk glided along below. We spent the remainder of the day perched on top of that rock, and, even though there was not a level spot on the entire rock, we rolled out our sleeping bags and spent the night there as well. A beautiful but hard bed, the stars above, and the distant lights of Sylva made up for the discomfort. The next morning we woke on a sunny island in the middle of a sea of fog. Below us the valleys of Scotts Creek, and the Tuskaseegee river were immersed in fog, probably as a result of the smokestacks of the Meade Paper plant at Sylva. Back then, Meade Paper made Sylva a dismal and smelly town, as evidenced from the backstreet scene in the movie Deliverance, but at least on this day, Meade redeemed itself by creating the view that we witnessed.
I made a lot of trips to Black Rock during the seventies and eighties, with friends and wives, and my son. All of the trips are memorable, though not always as beautiful. Three friends and myself hiked in from Fisher Creek one January, in snow that became so deep that we could not make it all the way to the summit. We camped on a logging road below the peak in at least thirty inches of snow and temperatures that dipped close to zero. A wild and windy, fearful night. The next morning we put on our frozen boots and , thankfully, got the hell out of there.
I was camped on the rock late one afternoon when the Hennessee Lumber Mill caught on fire way below us down in the valley. We watched the fire trucks make their futile way up Scotts Creek from Sylva. The smoke rose up thick from the fire below, and we paranoidly wondered if the whole mountain would catch fire.
I learned to camp just below the next rock down the ridge where there was a level spot on the ground. After a grueling search for water on the slopes below, we found a spring that we had passed in a little switch back of the trail less than a hundred yards below the ridge. Next trip, and there after, I carried an eighteen inch lenght of plastic pipe to insert into the spring and create a drip of fresh water we could catch in our canteens.
I took my new wife to Black Rock with promises of bright stars and beautiful vistas, and we hiked in drizzle, and woke up in fog and freezing rain.
This trip was better, we did not camp. My years, and my knees don't let me carry a forty pound pack up and down the mountains. If I had proposed a camping trip, it would have been a solo trek, my wife and friends have become leery of "Eudy Adventures". The hike was tough enough with just a small day pack and a stick. The trail has been somewhat cleared, and marked, but it's a lot more strenuous than I remembered. That short two and one half mile walk took two hours in and two and one half out. The sun was bright and warm. Although the leaves were slightly past their peak, it was a beautiful day. We met several other hikers on the trip in, and there were about ten people on the rock when we got there. There was plenty of room for all of us, and I'm actually glad to see that more people are aware of this unique place.
We set on the rock, ate some cheese and salami, and drank some wine. (Traditional fare for a trip to Black rock.) After an hour or so we started out hike out, and arrived at the car, worn slap out. We took the Park Way back to Asheville, ate dinner at the Pisgah inn on the way, and made it home by about ten last night. A long day, but one of the best.
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