40 years ago [that's an approximation], when I was in business for myself, married [for the first time] with three children, and looking to set anchor permanently I went looking for a lot on which to build the family home. We had purchased a city lot in an upscale section of Redding, not far from the in-laws (mine, not hers), but had decided it really wouldn't suit our needs. It wasn't level and dropped precipitously from street level. There'd be no yard for the kids to play.
I looked through the want ads in the local fish wrap. At that time there were developers popping up all over the place, subdividing large parcels.
Don't ask me what attracted me to this particular lot. I don't remember. I called the number in the ad and met the seller that afternoon. My wife wasn't available for some reason or other, so it was the seller and I walking the parcel. It was three tree covered acres, with a year-round creek along the back of the lot and it was at the end of the one lane gravel road. It looked ideal to me. When she saw it, the wife loved it, too.
So we paid $13,000 for some country property. We sold our city lot for twice what we paid for it, basically covering the cost of the new lot. Later we also sold our house for more than double what we paid, which provided quite a bit toward keeping out construction loan at a reasonable amount.
There were options, up to a point, as to where we could build on the lot, though we had to make allowances for a well and septic system. Oh . . . and we needed power . . . eventually.
The neighbors, the ones immediately adjacent on our road, who'd actually named the road using the first syllables of their given names needed power almost immediately. I found that out one morning at work. The local community liaison guy from the electric and gas company, who was also a city councilman, showed up with some paperwork to grant them an easement from the nearest power pole to the lots along the road. After some discussion about why it had to be done they way they were doing it permission was granted.
The neighboring construction was started almost immediately despite it being the rainy season. Progress was slow because the mud was horrendous. One wheel off the road almost immediately got a vehicle stuck (DAMHIK). The neighbor was not a happy camper . . . literally. He and his wife were living in a camp trailer on the site while constructing his own house. He was working full time for a concrete outfit the manufacture precast concrete products like septic tanks.
They built their house in phases. The finished garage was completed first and they moved into it. But that's not pertinent to this story. In fact a lot of what's written so far is just rambling on.
So we built our house and moved. We got to know our immediate neighbors, all eight. We even liked them, most of them anyway. One of them was a highway construction contractor with access to really good equipment he used to keep the road in shape. He tried to explain how potholes develop through speeding down the road at faster than idle speed. One or two of us may have listened. Others were always in too big of a hurry.
At about the four or five year mark after moving in, the domestic situation started south. To keep this tale short I will say it was decided that I would move out.
Within days of my departure my wife came home one afternoon to find the road blocked just before the entrance to the second neighbor's drive. There was a big chain with a padlock, anchored by two big concrete bollards. She was flummoxed and a bit upset because she had groceries and three young kids with her.
So she backed up to where she could turn around and drove around to another neighbor, whose drive is off the main road. She had three children about the same age as ours and two high school age stepdaughters. Their lot was directly in front of our place, but across a wash that was more times than not full of water from a natural spring. We'd put a footbridge made from a 30 inch wide glulam that someone hadn't needed. It was convenient and relatively close so the groceries didn't have to be packed too far.
So it was my wife who discovered why the electric and gas company needed a power easement. It would've helped earlier if they'd explained that they couldn't follow road from the other end because it was not built in the easement, but almost entirely across the next door neighbor's property such that both of his neighbors were landlocked.
The issue for my wife was resolved by the neighbor from across the wash. She granted and easement allowing ingress and egress. The highway contractor introduced a local guy with culvert experience to us. Permits were pulled and in about three weeks time there was new access to her house [see what I did there?].
There would be no reconciliations. The neighbors moved about three years later. I don't know what the other landlocked neighbor did. He and his wife had used their life savings to build their home and were on fixed income. Ironically, I haven't been able to entirely shake the one way neighbor. Our paths have crossed more time than I care to think about. I choose to remain civil. It would've been really nice if my ex and I got along so well.
$#!+ happens
*with apologies to Cormack McCarthy though I did walk that road with my son a time or two

















