To Build a Fire

To build a fire: I have never met a person who does not like a nice fire. Fires are comforting, warming and entertaining. When you are camping, there is nothing like having a campfire. However, it’s important that the fire REMAIN in the fireplace, of course, which can sometimes be a might tricky; as fire has a mind of its own, which I have learned the hard way.

A few years ago I went camping at Pillsbury State Park in New Hampshire; a park very much off the beaten path. Since I did not have much dry wood, I waited until it was nearly completely dark before I started my fire. By then I was surely looking forward to the fire. However, It only sputtered and smoked and basically just kept going out. A pall of smoke lay about the now completely darkened site, but that was the only sign of fire.

I was all alone except me and my dog. I used up quite a bit of my kindling and I still had no fire. I have found that while it’s easy to build a fire, getting it hot enough to be self sustaining is the challenge. I had one time attended a fire safety demonstration where the instructor had a hard time getting a fire started with a tub full of kerosene, and a road flare! How much more difficult is it with wet wood and a Bic?

Since I had just finished dinner, I still had my backpacking stove out. A backpacking stove is a small, one burner affair, big enough to boil just a quart of water. It uses a small gas bottle filled with liquid white gas. My stove had a small leak around the seal where the stove met the bottle. I found that by shaking the bottle a few drops at a time would come out. I began using this technique to keep the fire going in hopes that it would get the main logs to alight.

I had always been told that fire can hop up a stream of gas, but I had never really experienced it and therefore did not realize how FAST it can do this. In less than a blink of an eye, the flame jumped up from between the logs, followed up the stream of fuel, literally hopping from drop to drop. Before I knew it, the fire was on the stove and bottle configuration in my hand. I was on fire.

Of course, your natural response is to try and shake the thing hard enough to blow out the flames, which of course I did, which of course caused more fuel to come out, and which of course caused the fire in my hand to grow. I now had a large ball of flame in my exposed hand and it was moving up my arm as it grew. It wasn’t hot, yet, but I could feel the heat expanding too. Not knowing what to do, I threw the stove and bottle on the ground.

That was probably a bad move, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. As soon as the bottle hit the ground, more gas than ever began to fan out and with it the flames too. Now I had a fairly large circle of fire all around me and it was growing. Still not knowing what else to do, I kicked the bottle into the fire pit, which sent it careening into the rocks surrounding the pit. Again, probably a bad move, but at this point, I was afraid the bottle was going to explode. My dog just stood there staring at the fire, slowly backing up step by step.


He didn’t know what to do either. I think he may have given out a soft “woof” once, but I couldn’t be sure.

When I kicked the bottle this caused the plastic valve stem, which was now melting, to disengage from the gas bottle itself. The remaining fuel, from a bottle which had almost been full, added itself to the fire circle. In an instant the fire doubled in size, to an area approximately 20 feet in diameter, with me standing on the outer edge. I looked around frantically for something to put the fire out, but I had nothing but a small amount of water. I grabbed my canteen and upended it over the fire to no effect. I also tried stamping on the fire, but I just got the gas, and thus, the fire, on my boots and wherever I stamped down, larger flames erupted. I imagined that I looked like some sort of crazed Indian dancing around the fire with flames sprouting from my every step.

In my minds eye, I saw myself running to the ranger station several miles way ( this was a primitive campsite where you had to park your car and hike in a few hundred yards to your campsite ). I also saw the woods fully engulfed with flame and the headline of the newspaper the next day “Camper Starts Fire, Acres Burned.”

Fortunately, this type of gas burns quickly and almost as fast as it started, it was out. The bottle, which had been red and was now charred black, was still in the fire. Tongues of flame licked out from the open neck, but it seemed the explosive danger was passed. The plastic valve laid nearby, nothing more than a heap of slag.

In a period of time which lasted on a few seconds, the crisis went from inception, the original spark up the stream of gas, to a raging inferno, to the fire being almost spent.

I sat down at a nearby picnic table and said “Whoa”! Disaster had been averted. I looked at Rascal, my dog, the flames from the remaining fire reflecting off his eyes in the dark. He just stood there with his tongue hanging out. If he could have, I think he would have said “whoa” too.

Two positive things came out of this experience, 1) I have a new found respect for the Beast which is fire and 2) My wood finally lit and I had a pleasant campfire for the remainder of the night.

Ah, there’s nothing like a nice campfire!