Window Cleaning - A Natural High

A natural high: Jeremy Warren, a reporter with "The StarPhoenix" survives a day spent with high-rise window washers. Every time I walk across a tall bridge or step out on a high balcony, I imagine myself jumping off. Not on a suicidal whim but out of curiosity for the - excuse me - fallout.
On Thursday morning, while walking a 30-foot stage lift hanging 22 stories above the ground at The View (the former Milroy Apartments) on Fifth Avenue North, I didn't have time to mull the jump. I was working with a five-man crew from DJ's Windows and Aerial Access who allowed me to tag along as they worked two jobs in downtown Saskatoon, one to move the stage and the other a high-rise window cleaning gig. By 10:30 a.m. we had moved the stage, a narrow walkway used for high-rise window cleaning and maintenance, and we now had to test it for the contractors who rented the contraption.
My job was to take it up 22 stories and back down with another employee. We stood at opposite ends, each controlling a small motor to lift the stage. We're hooked into a lifeline independent of the stage and we dangle one foot over the side to push away from the building at spots where residents have opened windows. With both hands occupied and one foot on the stage, I lean back on the outer railing for balance. It's a precarious situation, and as we slowly rise my one sturdy leg shakes from the pressure and nervousness. About 10 stories up, I'm sneaking a glimpse of cars getting smaller and smaller when an elderly resident pokes her head out a window. "Peek-a-boo," she says. I flinch and for a quick melodramatic moment I think it's Death in my deceased grandmother's image ready to push me over the side. "Nice day for a climb," I say as the stage passes her window. We get to the top, take a brief moment to look over the edge and head back down.
Owned by the gregarious Dave Nichols, DJ's Windows and Aerial Access has been in business for 25 years, travelling all over Saskatchewan and as far as Alberta for jobs. The 13 employees are jacks of all trades: The company does snow removal, street level and high-rise window washing, power washing and stage and scaffolding rentals, which means they set up and tear down the equipment. "Anything high, we do it," said Nichols before we left his west-side office Thursday morning. "And without the staff I'm nobody." The staff is a hearty crew, a mix of young and old. From the moment I sit down in the office that morning to the end of the day there's a steady drip of coffee for all of us and deluge of swearing and scouting for women. If there isn't a rope or wiper in hand, it's a cigarette.



"This job is almost an addiction," said Rick Schellenberg, the company's foreman. "By the time winter hits, you're looking to hop over a building again. I'd rather be rappelling down a building than anything else we do. It's the most relaxing thing just hanging there." Mix interesting days on a window-cleaner's swing with good company and solid boss - a remark made by several employees - and this is one attractive job. The pay is decent, too, with bonuses for finishing a job quickly."People pay to do this on the weekend," said Rick Wilkins, a young British ex-pat. "We get paid every day for the same thing."
The day starts at 9 a.m., and after a few coffees and equipment checks we head off to the Milroy Apartments, in the midst of a condo conversion. The stage used by contractors to caulk the outside windows is rented and our crew has to move it from the right side to the left for the contractors.Up the stairs to the roof and there's a panoramic view of downtown Saskatoon, the river and Kiwanis Park on a clear June day, but the heat of the sun quickly drains any joy from the sight. While the others haul up cables and take down the lifts, I'm told to move weights from one patio to another. There's 15, 55-pound iron weights, and when I'm done my hair is sopping wet with sweat. The water jugs, it turns out, have been forgotten in the truck below. The counter weights -- the iron blocks, aluminum rails and several ropes -- are set up and angles precisely measured. Then we descend to the street to test the stage with one quick lift and drop before heading to the second job.
Dangling in front of windows every day offers a glimpse into private lives - in the bedroom or at the office - where personal habits can be protected by cubical walls but not by the window six storeys high. Of course, the reverse is true. Anybody can see a window washer's office. Before heading out, and without prompting from me (although it was the first question on a mental list), this story is told: On Wednesday, the first sighting of the season. Not a mosquito or pelican or bumble bee, but flesh. High above the street washing windows, a couple of guys from the crew spot two women in the next building watching them. One gives a quick flash and the other fakes a flash, teasing the guys dangling high in the air.
Our second job for the day starts on the roof of seven-storey building at the corner of 25th Street and Third Avenue. After a coffee break, the crew splits and sets up the window-cleaning swings on opposite sides of the building. When window cleaning, one person slinks into the swing, which consists of a one-by-two-foot piece of board and carpet padding that dangles over the roof's edge. The window washer slowly moves down the building, making one continuous swipe with a soap brush and a second with the wiper blade on each window. A bucket dangles from the swing's edge, dripping water to create inkblot patterns on the street each time a blade is dipped.
I'm supposed to replace one of the three men rappelling down the front of the building after they finish one drop. Within a minute of me taking to the swing, the storm clouds we've been watching for an hour cover our location, dropping rain and blowing a hard wind. Weather is the ultimate boss in the precarious job, and we speedily dismantle the swings and gather the loose equipment.
I miss my chance. We drive back to the office around 2 p.m. and grab another coffee for a staff meeting just as the storm clouds begin to clear. Pictured below: Jeremy Warren is hoisted to the 22nd floor at The View on Fifth Avenue