Right then. Let’s get ugly with it. You’re standing in your driveway, hose in hand, water spilling over your sneaker cause you’re trying to be your own detective—squirting the roof over that eave where the paint’s peeling like an old onion. And wouldn’t you know it—drip. One drip, then two. Bloop. There she goes. Under the eave board, hiding in the soffit like a raccoon that owes you rent.
That rain diverter your cousin-in-law slapped up there in 2017 (with 10-year caulk, bless his laziness) is letting water in smoother than a greased snake through a mousehole. Improper install, maybe even backwards. Done on a hot day, no hat, two beers in. Typical.
Rain diverters: good idea, bad execution
Let’s talk about these things. Rain diverters—those z-shaped clunky metal thingamajigs meant to steer rain away from an entryway or stubborn seam where your roofline gets weird. They *could* work great. Could.
But people (you, me, random roof guys with day rates) tend to stick them in like they’re solving a puzzle after someone’s hidden half the pieces. We poke them up under shingles without lifting the tabs proper, or worse—we caulk the heck out of them, like silicone solves character flaws. Spoiler: It doesn’t. One summer later, the caulk’s split like a dry biscuit and the water starts wiggling underneath, slow-slow, soft-soft until suddenly—hello mold, rot, paint flake confetti.
Install rain diverters above doorways, windows, or high-traffic areas to prevent water from pouring directly onto the ground. They can also be placed on the roof surface to ensure water flows smoothly into the gutters. Proper placement is crucial for effectively redirecting the water and keeping these areas dry.
https://roofingkettering.com/rain-diverter/
That soggy soffit isn’t whispering, it’s shouting
Sometimes water doesn’t even come in as droplets. It creeps. Feels around like a burglar with time to spare. Finds a nail hole, a rusty staple, a bit of plywood delaminated from the last hailstorm three Februaries ago. It finds the path of least resistance, which is apparently always directly into your overhang and eventually—fun!—your drywall.
Meanwhile you’re under there, maybe in the garage with a ladder, poking at swelling paint bubbles with your fingertip like they hold secrets. You wipe your finger on your pants, lie to yourself—it’s just old. Just… humidity. Sure.
The soffit is what you call the extension ceiling of the roof located outside the house. To put it simply, the soffit is the finishing material placed below the roof overhang that provides proper ventilation to the roof. Although it is not directly facing harsh weather conditions, like the roof or the walls, it can still get damaged over time.
https://gillespiehandyman.com/reasons-soffit-gets-damaged-ways-to-prevent/
How to un-mess whatever this mess is
Definitely not by YouTube alone. I’ve seen tutorials so optimistic they’d install twigs if someone told them it “adds character.” But here’s the jam: you start from the top. Literally.
1 — That diverter’s probably got to go
Rip it out. Don’t argue. Carefully pry up the shingles around it. Not saying with a crowbar—use that flat bar like it owes you money, but still owes your mom respect. Try not to tear the shingle tabs unless you’ve already accepted re-shingling a small patch. Sometimes the diverter is rusted in with roofing nails like mausoleum hardware. Wear gloves, swear quietly.
Clean the area. Yank out dead caulk whips. Wire brush or sand if it’s gooey or cracked or green. Green stuff = algae. Or moss. Or dreams gone sideways.
2 — Flashing, the right kind
Install proper step flashing or kickout flashing, where it makes sense. Those are separate things, but rain diverters often try to do both their jobs badly. Flashing should sneak under shingles, point away from the structure—not toward it like some maniac with a watering can and a grudge.
Let’s make this very backwards-clear: if any flashing is directing water TOWARD the house, you’re installing a very expensive funnel into your drywall. Might as well carve a spout on your fascia board for aesthetic irony.
3 — Look at the pitch
This is where people squint and pretend their roof doesn’t matter. That diverter might’ve cinched water *backwards* under the shingle line if the slope was wrong or insufficient. Low slope and poor install means water stays longer than guests at a holiday party who “missed their Uber.”
Check the pitch. 3:12 or less? You need extra underlayment, maybe a membrane. Maybe call someone smarter than you. Maybe not your cousin, depending on how many thumbs God gave him.
Rot: the not-so-silent wrecker
If your eaves are soffit-and-fascia kind (you’ve got boxed eaves), then water intrusion is doubly annoying. Paint goes first. Then one fine Tuesday, the wood turns to sponge cake. Peek behind peeling paint and it’s soft enough to poke with a chopstick. And we haven’t even gotten to the carpenter ants yet. They don’t pay rent either.
Pull off the soffit panel (carefully—who knows what lives back there). Probe the ends of the rafters. If they’re dark, crumbly, or smell suspiciously mushroomy: yessir, you’ve got rot. And once there’s rot, it’s not a patch job anymore. It’s a “cut and splice” kind of Saturday.
Tools / Ideas: not a checklist, just a scattered heap
– Oscillating saw (your new best friend)
– Galvanized flashing (shiny and confusing)
– Flashing cement (don’t eat it)
– Ladder that doesn’t wobble more than your ethics
– Caulk gun (don’t over-romanticize it)
– Siding removal tool (so you can pry like a gentleman)
– Beer, probably, unless you’re the responsible type
Closing thoughts? Nah
There’s no neat send-off here. If you’ve got an under-eave leak, it’s already late. You’re behind the curve. Rain’s coming next week. Or tomorrow. Nothing elegant about it. Water’s patient, sneaky, and dumb—just goes where you let it. So don’t let it.
And throw that diverter in the trash unless you know what you’re doing.
And don’t trust cured caulk more than you trust leftover soup.
That’s about the shape of it.
