Considering the frequency and length of electrical outages in Maine, having an emergency heat source in place was a high priority. I’ll explain later what derailed us from going directly from an emergency generator. Wood heat was the more obvious answer for us, but the big obstacle was that we didn’t have a usable chimney. We couldn’t just run up to Tractor Supply or Tru-Value, pick out a cast-iron stove, plug it in, and breathe a sigh of comforting relief.

Instead, we needed some professional advice, and that’s where we were stymied. Local inquiries led nowhere. The nearest wood stove and fireplace dealers were 2½-hour drives away.

Since Ellsworth has two, that’s where we headed. The smaller dealership was far more helpful than the other – and it referred us to a nearby chimneysweep who, after we approached him, did agree to install a stove for us as well as, more crucially, addressing the chimney situation.

While a previous woodburning cook stove in the kitchen had vented into the same flue that the furnace uses, that’s now contrary to building code.

Tim confirmed that our best smoke-venting option was to run an insulated metal chimney pipe straight up next to the existing brick one. At this point, with our upstairs about to be torn apart and the rafters exposed, we wouldn’t be disrupting anything there. Our ultimate placement of the stove itself would require moving a water heater and a cold-air vent in the floor. Not that big of an issue, now that we had a contractor. Glory be!

As for the existing but inefficient hot water heater? That advanced our planned acquisition of a heat-exchange water heating unit, but just where?

That’s when Adam, our contractor, lined up a license plumber, Thomas. You’ll be meeting more of him later.

~*~

Back to the central decision, which stove?

From my days in the Pacific Northwest, I was impressed with the pioneering Norway’s Jotul brand, a view reenforced by our purchase and intensive use of a small model in New Hampshire two decades ago.

Still, looking for maximum efficiency of our new stove, I was pressed to research other available options. After all, a lot has happened in the interim. And how, as I discovered.

Since our stove was also for a power-outage alternative and not just supplemental heat, wood pellets were out of the question. Alas, perhaps. A pellet fire isn’t quite the same when it comes to simple repose.

Two new considerations for me were cast-iron versus straight metal. The former takes longer to warm up but holds longer. The latter, the opposite.

Since much of our usage Way Downeast involves offseason chilly mornings and evenings in spring and autumn, the metal models gained an advantage over cast iron. We’ll see how that holds.

A complicating factor was catalysts, which would require attention every few years – and, more critically, by whom? By this point, Jotul slipped from the picture.

From my book Quaking Dover, I knew that soapstone and other heat sustainers worked as efficiency boosters, but in this round, the added cost and weight didn’t fit our setting.

Vermont Castings, which had been our principal rival to Jotul, fell from consideration over quality control issues, as other, newer, brands came to the fore: Ambiance, Blaze King, and HearthStone, among them.

We did have to quibble about how our stove would look and function in our situation, but in the end, after a thorough review of the efficiency specs, sizes, and prices, we went with a Lopi model, one from an enterprising Pacific Northwest outfit.

Alleluia. We even got it installed before deep winter kicked in.

Second floor.

A view up the pipe before it was capped.

Meanwhile, on the ground floor.

And there it was, just in time for Christmas.

~*~

Let’s be honest. The new stove wasn’t entirely about emergency heating. It was mostly about having the utter pleasure of wood warmth. It was even about reducing our onerous fuel oil bills, even before we add heat-exchange units upstairs.

After waiting three years to get the renovations underway, the unfolding events sometimes felt chaotic. So much happened at once.

Still, looking at the glossy brochures, I’m left thinking there’s a much bigger picture left to be presented. Sitting back against the unrivaled comfort of a wood fire and reading in my favorite chair is an unsurpassed pleasure in my book. This was a definite improvement over our previous winters.

As a slide flash, as a writer I’m reminded about the adage, “Write only about what you know.” Is there anything like this in a novel? Or even a movie? Maybe the bearskin rug in front of a fire as a photo?

By the way, we never heard back from the other stove dealership. The bigger one. We do have an affinity for smaller is beautiful, especially when it’s family-centered.

The roofing wasn’t the only thing taking place. We had to make some more key decisions regarding the next steps.

First was settling on the size and shapes and placement of windows in the back half of the house. We’ll examine those later. The glossy catalogues had a wide range of types and sizes, but no prices. For now, Adam needed to know where to frame them.

To do that much, we had to finalize our upstairs layout, at least roughly. A new bathroom and laundry room were part of that, details to come later.

Getting that far included electrical outlet placements along the exterior walls.

Those were steps that had to be taken before the spray-foam insulation crew showed up – which they did, two days after promised and leaving us with a nonrefundable Airbnb reservation. On top of that, we were required to be out of the house for 24 hours after they finished. Back to the Airbnb reservation. The crew’s deadline here was also contingent on a bigger job they were doing downtown – the two brothers live an hour-and-a-half from Eastport. We were second in line.

Before.

And after. Note that a diamond window in the corner is no longer in the plan.

We now faced some related decisions, beginning with the kind of roofing.

Our preference was for standing seam metal, but we were concerned about the price. It would, however, allow for a lesser roof pitch, and that would give us more headroom, and that was in addition to its added durability.

Asphalt shingles may be less expensive, but we live in a heavy winds-prone town. The forecast seems to have gale warnings every other day, at least for small craft out on the water. After a strong storm, the streets and yards are littered with blown-away shingles, even from new houses.

As I said, living beside the sea exposes us to a lot of wind.

~*~

The next decision involved the color. There were more standard color options than I’d thought from casual observation.

We liked bright red and the bold cobalt, at least for homes out in the country, but ours is tucked into a tight neighborhood and we wanted to continue to blend in. Our goal was something subtle but still classy. The color of the metal would also determine the shade of trim we would be applying later, maybe around the foundation, too.

We settled on a pale blue, which we find is common around the neighborhood.

There was far more to do up there than we could see from the street, and far more steps than simply putting the metal sheets down.

With condensation as a consideration, a vapor barrier went up. Strapping and rigid-foam insulation boards were fitted and secured. A weather-resistant fascia went around the trim. As did flashing.

And finally, we had the metal roofing itself.

After several setbacks from bad weather, Adam and Keith worked like maniacs over the weekend to have it securely in place before a hurricane-force storm – and then Christmas, a storm of a whole other nature.

~*~

As for the exterior walls, new cedar shake shingles were a given.

Week 7 brought the dramatic steps that would be seen from the street. This is a small town, after all, and people would talk. Fortunately, all we heard was approval and admiration.

As another plus, the weather turned in our favor, a week without rain.

As an added blessing, Adam, our exacting contractor, was joined by Keith, a simpatico master carpenter (even mediocre ones are hard to find around here). Fortuitously, they melded into a relentless team that raised the back wall, crafted new rafters, and encased the roof like clockwork.

Doing that precisely to an old freeform house like ours required many adjustments akin to sculpting, which these two performed with great understanding and patience.

The new wall would be sitting atop an old wall that was serpentine in length and height. It required a lot of precise correction.

The week ended with the thrill of seeing back half of our greatly expanded upstairs actually buttoned up days before Thanksgiving and the wintry weather to follow.

The front half will have to wait till spring, but there’s plenty to do before then. Much more, actually, than I wanted to consider.

After a week or more of finetuning the ridgepole and columns, Adam was ready for more drama. It was time for the old roof and rafters to go.

By now, much of the time the work was mostly loud reverberations punctuated by pounding and thuds within the top half of our house. Most of it mystified me. It often sounded like a war zone, especially when the air compressor kicked in. Not that I’m complaining.

Here we were, six weeks and thousands of dollars later and nothing we’d done was of the sort that would appear on a flip-this-house kind of a video streaming channel – the superficial changes that one local inspector we know dismisses as “lipstick.”

You do have to love an old house. Or, for perspective, an old lover.

Now we faced the decisive moment. Off with the back half of our upstairs!

A large, “rolling” dumpster was in place.

That saw appeared like the fin on a shark.

And then the roofing was removed in panels.

We got an idea of what a deck up there would be like.

The dumpster quickly filled.

 

While waiting three years for our big renovations to transpire, I often joked that living here was like camping. I won’t go into the list now, but I did accept defects that could have greatly raised my blood pressure if they weren’t already on the to-be-addressed list.

I could even go into the pro-gentrification argument that if big repairs weren’t being undertaken, these dwellings were well on their way to collapse.

Our renovation, daunting as it is, remains a minor effort compared to a few others in town, including true mansions being brought back from the brink. One is a fussy restoration project to keep the place as close to historic accuracy as possible, apart from wiring and a kitchen upgrade. Another is to improve its Victorian social showcase qualities.

I’m also finally understanding why so many old houses out in the surrounding countryside have been left to fall in. They simply weren’t worth the cost of upgrading, not when you could build newer, better, even closer to the world for less.

One of the annoyances we had tolerated was the big cavity where the second chimney had stood – the one that was about to collapse when we bid on the house.

We had passed on an offer to rebuild the brickwork, no matter how charming a working fireplace would have been. The chimney would have limited our remodeling options on the second floor, or so I argued, and without it, we do have a 2½-by-5-foot space to develop into a closet or something on the main floor. Patching the floor itself would be a huge improvement, as well, rather than having a light covering that couldn’t bear weight.

The cavity now provided a place where that 28-foot-long LVL column could run down through the house, as well as some new electrical wiring.

And, during a later break, Adam even fixed the holes.

Yes, step by step, it was all coming together.

Three weeks into the project, I noted my wonder at how quickly the work was going.

The back half of the upstairs interior was now exposed, giving us a sense of how much flooring and headspace we would be gaining. And we could see all of the rafters. Unobstructed? Adam had set up an impressive indoor workshop on the back half of the second floor, while the front two rooms clustered many of our possessions, now under plastic.

That said, I also noted my concern at how slowly the work was going.

The old roof over the back half of the house was still in place, and the clock was ticking down toward winter.

What dawned on me as I gazed up toward to the peak of the rafters was that the ones from the back – which were about to disappear – secured the ones at the front of the house, the half of the roof that would have to stay well in place into late spring or early summer. A few of those charred rafters would actually be remaining like forever, a nod to history and all that.

In a flash, the urgency of the new laminated ridge pole and supporting columns made sense. Without them, the whole roof would come crashing down and, in turn, there would be nothing to hold up the new one. One earlier contractor’s proposal for premade trusses to create a gambrel roof on both sides now became comprehendible – so that’s what he meant? We weren’t exactly communicating, and his results wouldn’t have been our first choice. As we were hearing, not every carpenter today knows how to frame a roof from scratch.

~*~

The key to achieving this was a recommended custom-made laminated veneer lumber ridge pole running the length of the house. Or more accurately, three pieces that would be joined together once they were inside and raised into position. Each one was 1¾-by-14-inches by 40-feet and weighed 280 pounds.

In addition, another custom-made LVL 3½-by-3½-inches by 26-feet was delivered for the remaining supporting column. That one would run down the cavity where our second chimney had been, the bricks that had been on the verge of collapse when we bought the place.

~*~

The new ridge pole would have to slip in where the rafters from each side were now overlapping. What would hold them up as he sawed them asunder? The answer was temporary framing underneath.

We were really, really glad Adam knew what he was doing, though we suspect he was losing some sleep over it. We do know he was doing his research and some thorough calculations.

had

The electrical line coming into our house had to be moved to one side of the gable to allow for the ridge pole to come into the house. That meant getting the utility to come out for a free service.

Inside, our contractor was making cuts accurate to one-sixteenth of an inch. Sometimes the beam below, cut in the early 19^th century, varied by a half-inch within the length of the two-by-sixes they would be supporting.

We were beginning to appreciate the fact that Adam was our contractor and not just our carpenter/electrician. He was making the arrangements and phone calls. Viking Lumber was making nearly daily deliveries from Machias.

After working largely solo, he lined up a crew to manage the pieces into the upstairs floor and then higher once inside. There was also the matter of a rented lift, positioned outside.

A lot of coordination had to come into place, even before discovering the power line coming into the house needed to be moved. Hello, Versant?

He had additionally expertly erected scaffolding by himself.

At that point, it really felt like this was happening.

So here we were, Week Four, the end of October, and the laminates were arriving – all four pieces. Well, make that five – Hammond Lumber had ordered a wrong size for the column and had to rush the corrected order down to our site.

This was turning into a more serious project than simply raising the roof.

Had we merely replaced the covering itself – either with asphalt shingles or upgrading to metal – without expanding our usable floor space on the second floor, we would have been glossing over serious structural issues. It’s a miracle the roof held as long as it did. One insurance company had cancelled our homeowner’s policy when it saw the photos of the roofing, and another insisted on a replacement within a year. That route would have been a very expensive band-aid in the end.

We had a dream of making better use of that space, as you’ll see. And now, after three years, we finally had someone to pull the project off.

As a starter. Adam needed to address some serious structural issues.

Was anything holding our roof up? It may seem strange to find that concern intensifying as we set out to remove it and its rafters, but we would need something to keep half of it up while the other half got ripped away. As an additional complication, we’d be living in the house rather than gutting it and starting over.

The absence of a ridge pole meant there would be nothing to hold up the front half of the roof when the back half came away for the new. Its lack also meant the existing ridge wasn’t straight but rather serpentine.

Adam had to make room for a ridge pole between the existing rafters. It was tedious and required some precise calculations.

Structurally, all the weight of the roof for nearly 200 years was directed outwardly to the walls – and, as he was finding, they weren’t exactly perpendicular.

Now he needed to have something to support the weight of the ridge pole and roof, too. That meant constructing four columns from the crown of the roof down to the cellar – one on each end of the house, the other two spaced in-between. That required going through two floors as well, plus building concrete pads in the cellar.

This was time-consuming work, and he was racing winter weather. We had reason for concern.

As these findings sank in, we realized our earlier option of just putting new shingles on the existing slope would have done nothing for real issues lingering underneath. Even without raising the back wall or consolidating the dormers in front, we would have had a larger problem waiting to erupt overhead. Living beside the ocean exposes us to many gale-force blasts. It’s a wonder the roof hadn’t gone years ago.

After taking some deep breaths, we appreciated what our contractor was telling us. Now, just exactly where was the center of the roof or the alignment down under? He did have some amazing laser tools to determine that.

We were really glad Adam was a pro, maybe more than the others working in town. He was definitely earning our trust and respect.

When Adam set about ripping out the drywall upstairs – and immediately filling his first dumpster in the process – the emerging picture soon presented a number of challenging hurdles. I’ve mentioned the lack of a ridge pole and matters regarding rafters, plus the wiring situation. This wasn’t going to be nearly as straightforward a project as I hoped.

The dumpster, by the way, was a new step for me. Back in New Hampshire, our carpenter hauled the debris to the transfer station in his pickup – or I burned what I could in the side yard. We even used a lot of the ripped-out sheetrock and plaster to “sweeten” our garden pH. How much would the alternative cost us, anyway?

I’ll say it was a bargain, especially considering the time that would be lost if Adam were driving that to the trash transfer station an hour away.

Adam’s selective demolition led to a small collections of old wallpaper examples. Meanwhile, a hippie-dippy yellow crab painted under some of the later wallpaper, alas, couldn’t be preserved, not that I quite wanted that. Mine was the minority vote. Still, we’d love to know the story of its creator – a kid? – and its inspiration.

More puzzling were the broken bricks in the walls and joists away from the chimneys. Huh?

Or, more impressive, finding some of the exterior sheathing is more than 18 inches wide. Try buying that today.

The fire damage was more extensive than we had imagined. Not just the historic downtown fire of 1886, charring our rafters but not setting them ablaze, but also a later chimney fire that charred the insulation off electrical wiring that we were still using.

What if the char damage on the beams and rafters wasn’t superficial but went deeper into what we assumed was still solid wood? (We were relieved to find out just how much good lumber remained inside.)

We’re left wondering. Did a fire originate in one of two wings once attached to the house and then spread to the roof? Sounds like an archaeology problem to tackle sometime ahead.

In addition, earlier carpenters here didn’t seem to do much measuring. I had to ask Adam, “So how does it feel to be correcting 200-year-old work?”

He gave me a look.

As I said, Adam set to work with determination and within a day filled the first dumpster.

Beyond the fire damage, he uncovered more knob-and-tube wiring to contend with than we had wished.

But to our surprise, Adam is not only a master carpenter but also a licensed electrician. This was sounding too good to be true.