DITCH CLEANING DAY

Naturally, the first thing I did was fall in!

The ditch was a dry acequia, maybe 5 feet wide at the top, a good 4 feet deep and lined with large rocks. I put my left foot on a dry clump of grass at the edge, but there was nothing underneath but air! All 190-plus pounds of me came down on my ankle, twisted between several large rocks, causing me to plunge head first into the bottom of the ditch.

I rolled over onto my back, temporarily unaware of the small boulders poking me in unfamiliar places.The sun was shining in my eyes and I lay there for a few moments, more in shock than pain, sure that several bones were broken. Oh shit, I have to go to the damn hospital, I thought. My first time to take part in the yearly community acequia cleaning, my first actual step into the ditch, and I have to go the hospital. OWWW!!!

"Can I give you a hand?" sounded a voice, breaking through the pain and fear.

A tall strong fellow I only knew as "Chris" leaned over me, blocking the sun. I think I said something like, "I'm probably gonna need more than that, but let's see." He extended a gloved hand and yanked me upright. I took a step or two to the bank I had just plunged from and sat down to catch my breath.

"Man, I heard you fall! That was something. Are you all right?"

I did a quick inventory: painful throbbing ankle, as hard a blow to the left side of my leg as I've ever taken, badly bruised left hand I must have extended to break my fall, but miraculously nothing else. Nothing to indicate torn ligaments or broken bones. I could sort of walk, but should I? "I think so," I muttered weakly feeling equal parts stupid and wounded. The pain was frightening but manageable. I could feel significantly more slack in the lacing of my right boot than my left and knew what that meant: "I tell you what though, I'm not taking off that boot! If I did, I'd never get it back on."

The next few hours were interesting, to say the least. I found I could hobble around and actually get some meaningful work done without too much trouble, though I hurt like hell and would have gladly been a casualty in any other context.

It's different here, you see, very different.

Try to think of a community activity in your own part of the world, something that brings neighbors together once a year for a day of hard work doing something that is absolutely essential. The only thing I can think of in our old home town was a day when everyone was supposed to come help pick up trash on the beach. Admittedly worthwhile, but not a mission-critical endeavor.

Here in nothern New Mexico there are still places where drinking and irrigation water don't come primarily from expensive drilled wells but rather from open, rock-lined ditches called acequias that carry water diverted from streams high up in the mountains. Some of these ditches are quite ancient. Property owners with water rights are entitled to use a certain amount of water for everything from gardens to alfalfa fields. In a land where rain is scarce, this water's importance can hardly be exaggerated.

In communities with an active acequia association, a particular day each spring is designated "ditch day." This is when everyone pitches in to clear the winter's debris from the ditch, make repairs as needed, and in general do whatever is necessary to make sure the water flows swiftly and unimpeded. This year the cleaning was even more important, because the snowpack in the mountains was well below normal, and people wondered whether there would even be water reaching the lower end of the valley.

Our small crew of eight was assigned to work down from a particular spot in the upper valley, where we would eventually meet a crew working its way up from below. The work to be done consisted of removing dead branches, trimming brush, raking leaves, and repairing the actual bed of the ditch itself. This last chore involved channeling the wide flat areas to prevent the stream from spreading out and undercutting the banks and bringing in large rocks from the surrounding fields to shore up eroded areas. There were also briars and saplings to be cut and debris piles to be pulled away from the banks. The section we were assigned hadn't been cleaned recently and needed lots of work.

In the midst of all this manual labor, I even manged to take some pictures, reproduced here through the miracle of digital imaging,. Apple's QuickTime technology, and my PowerMac 8600. These should set the scene for you and give you an idea of what we were up against. Most of the people shots on this page were taken during a pre-lunch water break.

Back home for lunch, I rummaged quickly through the bathroom drawers, dizzy with pain and fatigue: Ibuprofen? Yes! (Better take two or three of those suckers). A bottle of Tylenol with codeine left over from having that wisdom tooth pulled last year? Nah, not on an empty stomach and on top of the Ibus. Four-year-old muscle relaxant tablets from that last back spasm episode? Damn straight! I packed all these in my stomach underneath a big peanut butter and jelly sandwich washed down with cold milk, gulped down a big cup of coffee, and headed back out for the afternoon shift.

I did not take off my boots during lunch, as much as I wanted to, and neither did I lie down, for that would have been the end of me. During the course of the afternoon, I even imagined that the swelling went down somewhat. I was just beginning to congratulate myself for being an unexpectedly healthy and resilient sonofabitch when I noticed I was taking longer and longer breaks. There was something about letting the dry, cool wind evaporate the sweat from my forehead that was -- how shall I put it -- positively soothing! Intoxicating, even.

Just as well. The stones I moved were somehow heavier than they had been in the morning, and the leaves and sticks looked so at home in the rocky streambed, I was evermore loathe to disturb them. (And why hello, little briar! Are you enjoying being rooted where you are? Have a nice day!)

Somehow we persevered and got the job done, and by 5:00 o'clock most everyone showed up at the community center for a feast of cookies, tortilla chips, salsa, and beer. I met a few more of the neighbors and didn't even notice my ankle anymore. My wife and I were happy to have survived, grateful for the chance to do our part, and proud to help bring the water down from the mountain and give the cycle of life another spin. Later that night, when I did notice my ankle again, I marveled at how unusual the whole undertaking had been (to me) and wondered if my neighbors had any idea how rare their communal traditions are in this day and age.

Can you imagine the result of asking all the homeowners in a typical American suburb to work together on a certain Saturday each year to rehabilitate the local water system, even if not showing up meant that their lawn sprinklers and faucets would run dry?

"What, no coffee?! And whaddaya mean I can't wash the Explorer??"

Not a pretty sight!

John H. Farr edits the news for Applelinks.com and invites your comments. The Farr Site Archives will take you to the past two years' worth of columns. John also writes his WebFaust column for MacAddict.com and a monthly op-ed page column called "El Emigrante" for Horse Fly in Taos, NM. His Zoo Zone site will soon be on the National Historic Registry, but don't let that stop you from giving it a click.

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February 08, 2012