DIY Septic Woes: Conquering Clogs and Root Intrusions

This is a continuation of our septic system adventures. If you missed the beginning, you might want to start with Part 1: The Basement Sewage Disaster. Prepare yourself for Part 2: Snakes, Worms, and Severe Burns.

The Unpleasant Awakening

I woke up that morning with a stark realization: I couldn’t use the toilet. This seemingly simple act, a cornerstone of modern life, was suddenly unavailable. Panic began to set in.

My first thought was to venture outside. Nature called, but the sun was high, and my neighbors weren’t exactly the forgiving type. The risk of public indecency charges loomed large.

However, the urgency of the situation proved to be a powerful motivator. By 7:30 AM, I was reluctantly out of bed, frantically searching for a solution. I grabbed the phone book, a relic of a bygone era, and to my surprise and immense relief, I found a listing under “Public Works” for “Sewer Complaints/Back-ups.”

This was precisely what I needed! A sewer complaint! A sewer back-up! Surely, these public servants would ride to my rescue and restore order to my distressed plumbing system.

I eagerly explained my predicament to the man on the phone, painting a vivid picture of the “poopy basement” crisis. He calmly informed me that the main line was likely clogged somewhere between my house and the street.

Frankly, I didn’t care about the specifics of the obstruction. I just wanted him, or someone equally qualified, to come and fix it, to banish the sewage back to where it belonged.

But my hopes were quickly dashed. He wasn’t coming, he declared. Nor was anyone else. Apparently, the main line between my house and the street was not the city’s responsibility. Their jurisdiction only extended to the larger sewers beneath the streets. His advice? Call a plumber, or, if I was feeling adventurous (and frugal), acquire a snake.

The DIY Plumbing Solution: Enter the Snake

A plumbing snake, also known as an auger, is a flexible metal tool, available in various lengths. It typically features a pointy tip, either arrow-shaped or corkscrew-shaped, designed to penetrate and break up the offending blockage.

I contacted several plumbers and received quotes in the ballpark of $190 to clear the obstruction. Faced with this expense, and fueled by a sense of DIY spirit (or perhaps desperation), I opted for the snake.

Within twenty minutes, I found myself standing at the checkout counter of Home Depot, clutching a brand-new plumbing snake and a bottle of Drano, ready to wage war against the subterranean menace.

Back in the “milk-bottle room” (as I now affectionately referred to my besieged basement), I strategically placed some 2x4s to elevate myself above the contaminated water. Sewage, I quickly learned, is remarkably slippery if you’re not careful.

I began the delicate process of threading the snake into the murky water. After several frustrating attempts and a disconcerting burning sensation in my eyes (lesson learned: ventilation is key), I managed to guide the snake into the pipe.

After feeding approximately 40 feet of snake into the abyss, I felt a slight give, a subtle release. Hope surged through me. I carefully began to retract the snake.

As I pulled the flat wire back through my hands, a chilling realization washed over me. This snake had just traversed what were likely the 40 most unhygienic feet of water I would ever encounter in my life. A profound sense of disgust mingled with a newfound appreciation for personal protective equipment. Gloves, I decided with unwavering conviction, were absolutely essential.

The Horror Revealed

Finally, the tip of the snake emerged from the pipe, bearing a gruesome offering. Like a cat proudly presenting a dead mouse on the doorstep, the snake deposited a softball-sized clump of black, dripping, stringy… things.

“This is horrid,” I muttered to myself. “This is absolutely not worth saving $190.” The aroma alone was enough to make me reconsider my budgetary constraints.

But the horror didn’t end there. As I examined the clump more closely, I realized that it was teeming with life. Thin, white slugs and wriggling worms crawled throughout the mass, adding a new layer of revulsion to the already unpleasant scene. My initial suspicion was correct: these were tree roots, thriving in the dark, nutrient-rich environment of my sewer line.

The Allure of DIY (and the Limits Thereof)

On the other hand, I rationalized, practically anything is worth saving money on, especially when it comes to fixing things that go wrong with your house. There’s something undeniably satisfying about being able to say, “I fixed it myself.” A badge of honor for the homeowner, a testament to resourcefulness and self-reliance.

Except, I couldn’t claim victory just yet. While the water was beginning to drain, it was moving at a glacial pace. I knew that if my roommates or I flushed even a moderate amount of… waste… it would inevitably end up back on the basement floor.

Clearly, more drastic measures were required. I ventured back to the hardware store, this time seeking the most potent drain cleaner they had to offer. Drano had proven ineffective. I wasn’t interested in any prissy foams or gels. I wanted raw power, liquid fire.

Playing with Fire (Literally)

The helpful (and slightly intimidating) hardware store employee directed me to Insta-Flo, a sodium-hydroxide powder that, when mixed with hot water, generates intense heat. The label boasted that it “will burn its way through small roots” and, more ominously, “causes severe burns,” depending on where you applied it.

Back at home, I stood contemplating the “harmful or fatal if swallowed” warning, and a sobering thought occurred to me. If I were going to succumb to Insta-Flo poisoning, I certainly didn’t want to do it in my sewage-soaked basement. There was simply no dignity to be found in that scenario.

Heeding the directions, I donned goggles and a face mask, preparing myself for chemical warfare. I commenced pouring the powder into the drain. The powder fizzed and popped violently as it came into contact with the hot water I was running through the pipe. It was the sound of my problems… melting.

It sounded… promising.

Triumph (and a Dose of Reality)

Even better, it actually worked! An hour and another application of Insta-Flo later, the pipe was draining perfectly. It was like a miniature gurgling creek, flowing freely right there in my basement. A disgusting, yet strangely satisfying, sight.

And, by the way, don’t be fooled into thinking that those city creeks are pristine. Stay out of there, kids. Nature isn’t what it used to be. Consider this a public service announcement.

So, the water was flowing, my skin was thankfully not burning, and the slug-infested root clump had been unceremoniously disposed of (back into the storm sewer, I confess). Everything was, relatively speaking, rosy. Except, of course, for the lingering sewage that had contaminated the basement floor. But I tackled that with a snow shovel and, naturally, the ShopVac.

Lessons Learned in the Trenches (of Sewage)

Although it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, I gained a wealth of knowledge from the ordeal. I now know that no household problem is so dreadful that it can’t be solved with the right tools, a healthy dose of persistence (and a lot of poking), and perhaps a bit of dumb luck and reckless self-endangerment.

But I also learned that a house possesses its own internal logic, even when it seems to be actively rebelling against you. When sewage is erupting from a hole in the basement, there’s a reason. If there’s a leak in the ceiling, there’s a reason.

And if you can decipher those reasons, you have a chance to address the problem. It may be difficult. It may be utterly disgusting. But this is your house, and there’s seemingly nothing you can’t handle… at least initially.

That is, there’s nothing you can’t handle the first time. If the problem recurs a second, third, or even fourth time, you inevitably reach the limit that every do-it-yourself homeowner eventually encounters: the point where you simply refuse to stand in raw sewage for another minute.

Because owning a house involves learning not only what you’re capable of doing, but also, and perhaps more importantly, what you’re actually *willing* to do. The first category tends to expand over time, while the second category inevitably shrinks.

And that’s when you call a plumber. Because sometimes, the price of professional help is worth far more than your sanity (and your health).