Rim joist + cedar siding repair

Rescuing water-damaged structual framing & cedar siding from a Titanic fate

At first glance, the two holes on the exterior of this client’s addition appeared to be a small repair job.

But when my early exploration revealed that these small holes were merely the tips of two proverbial icebergs (icebergs eaten by carpenter ants) plans changed. Suddenly this was no one-man dinghy job. I needed a crew in order to get the job done before winter hit.

Luckily my friend and mentor, master carpenter Carl Davidson was available to swing-in for a couple weeks, and together we navigated the iceberg field: he tackled the iceberg-sized issues up on the roof, and I wrestled with the iceberg-sized issues down on the ground, with each of us lending helping hands.

I soon discovered that carpenter ants and rot, had eaten away so much wood from the rim joists (a foundational part of a house's framing) that – and I kid you not – the house was literally being supported by wood no thicker than the jewel case of a Titanic soundtrack CD. You could almost hear Rose whispering: “never let go, Jack.”

Like the Titanic, it was a disaster just waiting to happen. I’m glad we caught it!

Rim joist as thin as a CD case! Holding up a wall!

It turned out that the builders of this early 1980's addition, much like the captain of the Titanic, had neither respected the mighty powers of water, nor practiced the art of “flashing”. [Side note: “flashing” is just a fancy word for the carefully layered slip-and-slide of materials that whisks water away from vulnerable spots like windows, doors, and junctions -- and sends it on a thrilling, controlled ride from roof down to ground, without ever letting it touch the wood].

An example of this hubris is that none of the cedar siding had been back-primed or end-sealed, and flashing details (tapes, membranes, and metal profiles like a sill pan) were nowhere to be found. It was like a slip-and-slide with no sidewalls, letting its rider spill right off the side. (Jack, um, seriously never let go!) What I'm trying to say is, is that if Celine Dion wasn't such a strong singer, that Titanic CD-thick piece of wood would've certainly collapsed years ago. Fortunately for us all, Celine is that good.

This is what you get if you don't build good slip-and-slides, kids:

...an iceberg field.

The path we charted through the icebergs wasn't our "ideal route" (which, in case you were curious, would've been pulling out all the old compromised siding, glass door, steel bars, doing our repairs, then starting with a nice blank slate, into which we'd install a new window, new siding, and flash everything tight as a drum). The "ideal route" would’ve cost the owner 3x more. So instead he reasonably chose to keep the repair as simple and sweet as possible: just shoring up the rotten things we found, without sending us out hunting for more icebergs. This allowed him to preserve his limited infrastructure budget for future renovations he’d actually enjoy, like a new bathroom.

The simple and sweet process that we applied to four walls: 1) Walk up to the addition for the first time and think: "this will be quick and easy repair of a small hole!"

As you poke the small hole it becomes a bigger hole, then a bigger hole, then turns into a large ant colony, and then you realize that most of the wood you're seeing is actually just a dust pile, dressed up like wood, and that if you sneezed on it funny, it would blow away. This video is from about halfway down the rabbit hole on one of the four walls that were repaired (you can hear the homeowner on the phone in the background, talking to his insurance company).

Bring in master carpenter Carl Davidson to turn a drowning roof area (including a huge fascia hole and complicated roof junction)...
...into seaworthy perfection like this: