Apparently we are gluttons for punishment, because this week we called back our concrete contractors. No offence to them, but we sincerely hope this will be the last time we ever see them! This time, it was to pour a floor for the main basement of our old house.
When we moved in to this c.1834 house in 1998, the basement had a dirt floor, which occasionally did double-duty as, um, an ephemeral creek bed. We traced (most of) the water to a poorly-installed-and-therefore-clogged diversion drain that had been installed when the septic system went in the late 1980’s to get the leach field to perk. After we dealt with that, back in the early aughts we had the mud-laid foundation stones mortared in place to direct any remaining water down low to the floor. We then put in a French drain system to drain both cellars out back down the hill.
The trench drain worked, mostly. In ’05 we hired some guys to dig out 8 inches or so of the dirt (Atkins Silt Loam, to be precise) floor. We then had them put in 5 inches or so of gravel. This has served as our basement floor ever since.
Fast forward to last summer, when we decided to go ahead and have a concrete slab poured, to complete the conversion into a fully usable space. We spent some time removing and leveling the gravel down so the 3-4″ of concrete would come up to the pre-existing level of the old dirt floor.
As always seems to be the case, it took some months to schedule the contractors, but over last weekend we confirmed a pour for Wednesday. Tuesday saw the final preparations.
Wednesday dawned to the sound of contractors banging, yelling (*always* with the yelling, these contractors), and engines delivering and pumping the concrete.
After several days of curing, the finished floor is now walkable. A far cry from where we found it 18 years ago.