Yesterday, I got home early from work, and managed to escape for a few hours into the woods behind my place. I headed in to the house a little earlier than I planned, because I was unable to sustain a fire due do the torrential downpour we had two days ago, which soaked even the standing wood. If I'd managed a fire, I would've been out a good half hour longer, which would have placed me climbing back up the hill during the sudden inch of snow we got yesterday. So, in short, though there's no snow on the ground in the photos below...it was quite cold last night, and it began falling during the last ten minutes of my hike. So we'll call this little outing an "exercise in winter gear".
The lesson learned? KNOW WHERE YOUR GLOVES ARE.
I wore my knit fingerless gloves to Church this past week...and have no clue where I put them. So I began the hike glove-less, and though I kept my hands and fingers working as best I could...it sucked. Know where your gloves are.
So here we are, on the back porch...just an obligatory "what my kit for the hike consisted of." It is definitely wool season, so I'm sporting a linen tunic, linen Braies and wool socks under heavy wool drawstring pants and tunic, with a heavy canvas cloak, hand-knit wool scarf, and deer fur mantle. Despite the glove issue, I was otherwise quite comfy, and it was a balmy "28 degrees, felt like 16 degrees" according to our dear friend, weather.com.
The view down the hill into "my" valley.
A few sites for a fire that I passed on for various reasons.
Right where the valley opens up from being a narrow drainage to a wide, flat-bottomed true "Valley".
Part of the Creek, for art's sake.
The obligatory "mug" as proof that I was, in fact, in kit for this hike:
It's pretty commonly known that one of the easiest fire builds to get started and add material to is the classic "tipi. The flames to directly to the material being burned, and leaning new material against it is a rather simple affair. It's quick to build, and every little cub scout knows how to do it. I tend to stray away from it because it has a tendency to fall over, and cooking over one with a pot almost requires setting up cross-sticks and hanging it, etc. I prefer building a lean-two of sorts between a pair of parallel larger fuel-logs to contain the coal bed and give a good place for a cooking pot to rest, but this time, since every inch of burnable material was wet, I figured my best bet was to go with the classic. However, I had a few thoughts on giving the tipi more structure, and thought I'd share them with you.
The ground, prepped for a fire, at my chosen site. Well-drained ground with a gentle slope, and a flowing creek is just a few feet off for easy access should the fire get out of control (or I get thirsty).
The ground beneath the leaves was muddy, and I found that it suited my purposes well. For starters, I broke three well-seasoned pieces of roughly equal lengths, arranged them in a triangle, and pressed them into the mud to make a framework for everything to rest upon (hand included for scale).
Within this framework, three index-finger-sized dry(ish) twigs were pressed into the ground at the corners, to frame the standing kindling.
Within the ground frame as well as outside it, as much dry tinder as required can be stacked all around this rather sturdy frame, making sure to leave one side open. This is one of the most common issues I run into when teaching kids firebuilding...they build a tipi, and have nowhere to stick their burning ball of fluff. If you have a long barbecue lighter or match, you can reach into the center, no problem. But for us Middle-Earth-ers...doesn't work that way. So leave a side open. If I'd had access to them, I'd have definitely used some dry pine needles to "thatch" the tipi, followed by the kindling...but we do the best we can with what we have. The trick is to not overload it, or you'll have air issues...which is the second most common mistake I encounter with tipis.
Here you can faintly begin to see the flurries of snow swirling around me. These are lower-quality pics, as they're screenshots from a video clip I took of the flint-and-steel process which you'll see eventually...but not today.
All that effort...and the fire wound up unsuccessful. Dry wood is hard to come by. But it's been stated many times before...you can't always gurantee a fire, so be ready for it. I made plans over a year ago to add a small bundle of well-seasoned small wood starter bits to my snapsack...but then it never happened. With all of my winter-trekking plans, it's about time I turned around and took care of that.
So my salt pork meal went uncooked, but the fun was not cut short. It was a wonderful little jaunt in the woods. I took a few minutes to do what any good ranger should--inspect his/her gear--before moving on. You may note that I'm sitting on the same log from the earlier photo of my prepped fire pit...but the pit is no longer there. I always try to make a point of leaving as little sign as possible of my passing...so put out your embers, and replace the displaced ground cover.
And, of course, one should be ever vigilant, even when this close to home. As the temperature dropped and the wind picked up, the scarf and hood became necessary, and when that is the case, I always remember how much of an affect this has on my hearing.
Cheers!
-Greg
