To Build a Fire

Growing up, I was in both a scouting group and a frontiersmen re-enactment organization, and camping was the only thing I enjoyed more than G.I. Joes. It wasn’t until I became an adult and began camping with others that I realized how naïve most are to basic survival techniques, such as shelter building, trail navigation, food preparation and, possibly most importantly, fire building. The interesting thing about watching others build fires, besides the extreme incompetence, is the stubborn refusal to accept any help, especially when males are involved. Every man assumes that the knowledge of starting a fire is somehow embedded in their genes; if their ancestors could figure it out, so can they. Consequently, I’ve seen rituals involving bundles of smoldering newspaper, bottles of wasted starter fluid and smoldering logs strewn throughout the campsite (apparently in an attempt to put them out).

I can start a fire in a light rain or heavy winds with absolutely no problem. I’m not bragging, because all it takes is a basic understanding of how fire behaves, which I’m keen to share with anyone willing to listen. I’m also content to sit back and mock stubbornly desperate and futile attempts.

Tenet #1: Fire is lazy. If you are willing to do the work for it, it is content to let you. It will consume the easiest thing available that will sustain its current state. It doesn’t want to grow and doesn’t like change.

Tenet #2: Fire can’t hold its breath. It needs a constant supply of oxygen. Wood does not act as a substitute for oxygen; in fact oxygen is more important than fuel.

That’s pretty much all you need to know about fire to get one started.

The ideal diameter area in which to build a normal-sized fire is about a yard (meter), but most provided pits at modern campsites are about half that. This is because the people providing them know most people become idiots in the presence of fire and are trying to restrict the size of it as much as possible. I don’t blame them. Speaking of idiots- things that should never be discarded in a fire pit include glass, metal, plastic and rubber. Burning railroad ties is also a bad idea.

Have all your firewood gathered before starting the fire. There are three categories of wood, and you will need all three to progress a flame into a campfire. The finest materials used to get the fire started are called tinder. You don’t need much of it- just enough to fill two cupped hands. Tinder can be: a dried out bird’s nest, dried pine needles, shredded paper or a ripped up brown paper grocery sack. A ripped up weekday newspaper also works, but avoid the glossy pages printed with color ink. Do not use dried leaves; they just create smoke and tend to smother the fire. A common mistake in building a fire is using too much tinder. Its purpose is to get the fire started and not to keep it going. As long as you keep feeding tinder to a jejune fire, tinder is the only thing it will consume (refer to tenet #1). The goal is to ween it off tinder and force it to burn larger materials.

Kindling is the term used for the wood used to grow the fire. Basically, kindling is tree branches. As your fire building skills improve, you will need less and less kindling, but an armload or one dead tree branch should be more than enough. The main thing is to have a progression in size from twigs to about 2 inch diameter sticks. If a branch bends instead of snaps or is green in the middle, it is not dried, or cured. Also, I’d better point out that in some states it is illegal to use tree branches found on site at certain campgrounds. Alternatively, you can use a progression from tightly rolled up newspaper or brown paper bag to corrugated cardboard or paint stir sticks to untreated lumber or quartered logs.

The goal of building a fire is to get it to burn logs, which are called fuel. In ideal conditions, the progression from match to log takes about 5 minutes. If you’re not using dry wood, a realistic goal is more like 10-15 minutes. If you construct the tinder, kindling and fuel properly, very little work is needed once the tinder is lit, whereas if you just haphazardly chuck wood into the pit, you will spend more time than necessary fussing with it.

Please note: starter fluid is for putting on charcoal briquettes, not on campfires.

You want to provide a way for a little air to get under the tinder. I do this by placing two ½” sticks in a V shape pointing away from the wind (opposite how a weather vane works) so the wind blows inside the opening of the V and laying several small twigs across the V like a grate. Nest, I surround that small V with a much larger V of two 4” logs. Across this large V make an A by placing a wedges log across it. I recommend a wedge both because that’s an easy way of preventing it from rolling off and because it provides an easier meal for the fire than a rounded log. This wedged log is the goal of our fire building operation. Once that wedge is in flames, you should be able to keep the fire going simply by adding more logs.

The tinder goes in the area on top of the small twigs held up by the small V and inside the A of the logs. One handy cheat I use as the primary thing to light is a stick of sawdust compressed with resin or wax that you can either make or buy for cheap in any store with a camping section.

If you are using some method other than a match or lighter to start the fire, you’ll have to wait before stacking any more wood, because it’ll probably involve cupping and blowing on the tinder to get it smoking before putting it into the A frame. (Flint and steel is a technique that’s easier than it looks while using a friction bow is far more difficult than you’d imagine.) As long as you have something you can light and fit under the A-bar of the big logs to light the tinder, you can arrange the kindling before doing so. I’ve recently been using an aim-and-flame but that’s not really as good as using wood matches stored in a waterproof container. If you opt for more of a challenge in fire-starting, you’ll have to add the rest of the wood as you make sure the tinder is getting air (which isn’t particularly challenging, actually, as long as the kindling is with easy reach).

Secret #1: The fuzz stick. If your wood isn’t dry or weather conditions aren’t amenable, I highly recommend taking a few minutes to construct a fuzz stick, which acts as a transitional device between the tinder and the kindling. Get a stick about a ½” thick and a foot or so long, and cover the entire thing with a series of thin U-shaped cuts. Each U gets flared out so the stick looks fluffy. Finally, sharpen the end opposite the one the knife blade has been facing to a point and stab it through the middle of the tinder in the A frame so that it stands erect. The fire will climb the stick, first burning the flared out notches until it consumes the stick itself. This might seem like a waste of time, but it’ll save you a few matches in the event your tinder goes out before the kindling is fully lit. Making the fuzz stick for the next trip is a great pastime while sitting around the fire. You can quickly improvise a substitute by ripping a bunch of tears into a brown paper bag and then rolling it up.

Immediately after the fuzz stick is in place, the smallest twigs are placed in rows above the tinder across the triangle of the A frame. Leave space between the sticks for air to be able to pass through. Then, form the largest kindling, consisting of three thick branches or log wedges, into a tripod above them. Finally, lean medium-sized kindling against the tripod, making a teepee surrounding the outside of the A frame but not between the legs of the A.

Now all you need to do is light the tinder. You might be noticing that there are a lot more places where more wood can be added. Instead of acting on this impulse, refer to tenet #2.

Once the tinder is started (if you don’t have a match long enough to reach under the log, light something longer, like a thinly rolled piece of paper, first), you want to make sure to keep airflow underneath it as the flames raise up and into the kindling. The classic methods are to contort your head down there and blow or use a bellows. I have to credit my friend Chant for introducing me to a third option.

Secret #2: The blow tube. Take approximately two feet of ¾” copper tubing and flatten one end with a hammer, leaving a sliver for an opening. Wrap glow tape at the top of the opposite end so that you remember which end is which. Then all you do is aim the flattened end where air is needed and blow through it. Don’t be overly worried about blowing out the flame; even if you do, a couple more blows should get it started again. The flames going out is not the same as the fire going out, but if you run out of glowing embers you might be hosed.

Depending upon the dryness of the wood, you might need to add a bit more kindling before the fire is hot enough to burn the log. If it starts going out, there is no need to immediately panic, because the small grated platform for the tinder that was the first thing placed acts as emergency back-up kindling. Build the fire by adding slightly larger sizes while keeping it supplied with oxygen; resist the urge to frantically dump on a bunch more tinder. The teepee will eventually collapse and you might need to push the sticks together to prevent the fire from getting too spread out, and the blow tube can be reappropriated for this task. Once the largest kindling that acted as the main support for the teepee is burning, another log can be placed alongside the cross bar of the A frame on top of the V with space between the two logs for airflow and then two more logs can be stacked perpendicular on top of those. That’s all there is to it. Occasionally consolidating and adding logs is all you’ll have to do for the rest of the evening.

White-hot coals are ideal for cooking on, and at this point I usually start prepping food, as it’ll be about a half hour before there are enough of them to cook with.

Unless it rains, after the inaugural fire has burnt down to coals, you should be able to start a new one simply by putting some twigs on them and blowing.

Before abandoning the vicinity, be sure to first sprinkle (to avoid a cloud of smoke and ash) and then completely douse the entire fire pit area with water.

Paradoxical Viewpoints

While the two people I hung out with most in junior high are two of the most generous and caring people I’ve encountered, it chagrins me to admit that the three people I spent the majority of my time with in high school are utterly despicable. I mention this not to speak ill but to ponder why I didn’t notice. They would criticize how I have changed, but I perceive my own character back then as deficient. I blame this in part on a typically teenage combination of wholly self-assured and utterly confused, but also on a fundamentally skewed view of reality.

One insight into my high school mindset is an occurrence I remember in one of Bob’s classes. (Bob was the teacher: his name was Mr. Roberts, but everybody called him Bob, because he allowed them to do so.) One of his assignments was to write a character sketch of him. I essentially wrote, “Bob adheres to New Age beliefs,” and turned it in, proud that I had so succinctly captured his persona. It came back with a failing grade and the comment, “You didn’t follow the assignment, which was to describe my personality.” I was genuinely confused by this. It seemed like he was suggesting there was something more to him than which religious stereotype he most resembled. Perhaps there was a religion I was unfamiliar with which better reflected his ideology? Perhaps he wasn’t privy to the accuracy of my insight? I thought about challenging the grade I’d received and get to the bottom of this obvious misunderstanding on his part, but decided against it.

The whole affair seems utterly strange to me today, especially considering the only thing I know about New Age is that it somehow involves crystals and John Tesh, and have no idea how I related these to Bob. I can’t figure out how I presumably didn’t understand that people have unique traits and qualities separate from any ideology. I can only surmise that I didn’t see them because I didn’t know to look for them. I just assumed everyone was either going to heaven or hell when they died, and it was best not to get to know the ones that were going to hell because they were bad influences. This heavily suggests that I was a major tool, to use parlance that, as far as I know, didn’t exist back then.

All life would be tragic if we weren’t provided the opportunity to learn, change and grow; but even more unfortunate is the life of someone who refuses that chance. I’ve long held that our lives our guided foremost by our priorities; that the things we value the most affects our perception of everything we encounter. I propose that even if we understand our own priorities, egocentrism makes it difficult to discern the motivations of others. For instance, I’ve long scratched my head at those prone to declare, “You’re just jealous,” as it seems ridiculously dismissive reductionism. But I’m not at all a jealous person, and perhaps that is why I’ve never considered it a valid motive for any pronouncement.

I’m notoriously impatient, and that bad habit prevents me from paying enough attention sometimes. I think of replies while others are still speaking, can be easily frustrated by communication failures and never see the point of beating around the bush. I’m prone to attack a sentence before heeding the clarifying or qualifying follow-up. My hurriedness tends to cause me to neglect affability and embrace crass bluntness. Our society is generally more comfortable with pretense and niceties than frankness, and perhaps rightfully so. Honest opinions tend to either offend or infuriate. Others are prone to informing me, “It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it,” to which I respond, “It’s not what you hear, it’s what you’re listening for.”

Oh, the irony. What am I listening for?

I find the nature of reality both fascinating and important. Sadly (from my perspective), this puts me in the minority. I’m constantly struggling to see things objectively and from multiple angles. This translates into a fondness for debate. While I strive to understand, often by exposing untruths (following Sherlock Holmes’ famous maxim), I’m often seen as argumentative. In actuality, I don’t at all like to argue and find it counter-productive.

Because some might retort that the difference between argument and debate is only semantic, I want to address what I see as a key difference: in argument there is always disrespect or the feeling of being disrespected whereas in debate both parties attempt to find mutual respect. Debate is sometimes impossible; one can only argue with a grocery store employee explaining store policy or a driver trying to run people off the road. Argument is the expression of one’s own bias causing frustration at another’s perceived faults. Debate, on the other hand, seeks accuracy and avoids assumption.

For some, the goal of debate is to trick another into a corner from which they cannot get out. This makes sense if you’re a prosecuting attorney or simply want to humiliate someone, but often results in chasing red herrings. I prefer to stay on topic.

Perhaps the greatest result of any debate is to come to a mutual understanding and appreciation for why divergent opinions are held, but this is only possible when both viewpoints have validity. When I don’t perceive this to be the case, I am strongly inclined to try and talk some sense into another. Although I might optimistically strive to change another’s mind, usually the best I can hope for is to promote further reflection or exploration on a topic. My debate tendency is to attempt to introduce concepts and variables as well as point out assumptions and fallacies pertaining to a conviction that perhaps another hasn’t considered. Unconsciously, I tend to assume refusal to accept facts is due to stubbornness. But after reflecting on some similarly confusing conversations and encounters with others through the years, I’m realizing some conversations never get anywhere precisely because their priorities, motivations and goals are fundamentally incompatible with mine, resulting in two separate conversations taking place simultaneously.

Some see stubbornness as a virtue. In this framework, the person who most refuses to concede is seen to have more conviction in what they believe, and through some fallacy of logic conclude that this validates those beliefs. Facts are considered a crutch for those who fail to “feel it in their heart.” In lieu of valid evidence, these people will tend to recite quotes echoing their position and metaphors explaining them. They will boast of their faith-based beliefs, not realizing that term was originally intended as a mocking antonym for fact-based beliefs. Rigidly hoping does not lead to truth, but (to state a tautology) it does sustain hope, and that is the highest of priorities for many. For me, as already stated, futility is found in a life refusing change, so what others perceive as retaining hopefulness I view as hopelessness. Eureka.

The Christian ideology I grew up with emphasized humility, devotion and long-suffering. My cynical self now realizes this as a successful scheme to keep subjects blithe, passive and obedient. However, there is another Christian angle that venerates success, prosperity and accolades because those things are granted by a higher power only to those deemed worthy enough to have them. This latter twist is so foreign, my inclination is to approach it with incredulousness, but both concepts are right there in the same compilation of books. Just as piety can be thought to bring success, success can be thought to prove piety.

There are yet others who esteem dominance, intimidation and oppression. They adhere to the premise, “might makes right,” and for them, the goal of debate is to display the most strength. This chauvinist mentality will admit making mistakes but not that they’re wrong. They seek out perceived weaknesses, such as compromise, modesty, frustration and empathy, and attempt to exploit them. They epitomize schadenfreude. One way in which their assumption of another’s weakness can be detected is in bizarre attempts at inducing guilt. They talk loud, interrupt and use unnecessarily arcane words.

Again, this prioritizing of bravado over reasoning seems to me so patently flawed, it is very difficult for me to accept that it’s how some people think. However, upon reflection, we all tend to assume docile creatures, like cows, are dim-witted. Further, it is convenient to assume that this perceived dumbness makes us inherently superior to them, and this perceived superiority seemingly justifies our opinions and behaviors over theirs.

Another motivation that I’ve discovered others to have is the desire for affirmation. Some become crazed when their viewpoints go unacknowledged. My assumption would be that these people suffer from low self-esteem, and was surprised to find it is in fact a major symptom of narcissism. Like an over-inflated balloon, narcissists’ exaggeratedly self-important egos are highly fragile. They will criticize others of the same traits they justify in themselves. They love to boast of their possessions and accomplishments while hypocritically underestimating and devaluing others. Narcissists are often envious of things belonging to others since they see themselves as more deserving. They hold grudges. From my perspective, the most frightening trait of narcissists is that they see themselves as having or even being the cure for all that is wrong with the world.

However, it should be considered that seeking approbation can also be due to a desire for respect; which is justifiable considering without respect all debate is doomed. Disrespect is rooted in lack of empathy, and lack of empathy is the root of all kinds of evils. It is the common thread between those motivated by both dominance and narcissism. Without empathy, people are compartmentalized with labels and lumped into prepackaged categories, exactly as I had done with Bob in high school. The feelings and experiences of others, being considered less important than loftier, purer ideals, can be dismissed. Only those beliefs which personally affect that individual’s life matter, so, for example, a man will not value women’s rights.

While my goal here is to understand the perspectives of others in order to find common ground from which more productive dialogue can be generated, I’m at a loss how to see eye to eye with the trait of lacking empathy, as it creates a conundrum. I suppose the best we can do is find other characteristics or qualities within a person which make communication possible. We must look beyond the ease with which we can write someone off as a sociopath, for example, and gain awareness and understanding of each person as a fellow human being. We must strive to remain empathetic even when it seems others are being wholly selfish. In the end, it is not our ability to successfully debate but our humanity that prevents us from destroying ourselves.